#i hate to have my place filled by someone else's perfume

[imaginary-wanderer]

If you put so much perfume on that it smells like you're in the room in someone else's apartment? You really have a problem.

[dira333]

Soul-Food - Osamu x Reader

Enemies to lovers - Requested by @notsochillnerd - with Atsumu as a terrible wingman who just wanted to check out his brothers' nemesis...

There is only one thing more annoying than Miya Osamu with his cooking talent, excellent marks, and unfairly good looks: his twin brother Atsumu.

“No.” You say again, arms filled with produce. He’s in your way and he’s not even sorry about it.

“Come oooon!” He whines, draping himself over the railing of the stairs as if this is a photoshoot for some perfume. “I’m so hungry! And Osamu won’t cook for me! I’ll even pay you!”

“Wow, now I want to do it even less, knowing you might not have paid me in the first place.” You snark, patience wearing thin.

“Now get out of my way, I need to get to my room.”

“To do what?” He steps to the side, but his face remains close to yours. You’re not the fastest as it is, even less when carrying that many vegetables. 

“I need to cook.”

“Perfect.” His grin is so wide, it could split his face. “You cook, I’ll eat.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

You hesitate, if only for a second. But Atsumu is like a shark and that was the single drop of blood that he needed.

Half an hour later he’s sitting at the little table in your apartment. 

Your kitchen isn’t spacious, but equipped with everything you could possibly need - there’s a reason this school costs an arm and a leg each year. And Miya Osamu got the scholarship instead of you.

You wouldn’t have any problem with it if not for your father breathing down your neck. He’s got the money to send you here twice if he wanted to, but in his twisted mind, a 100% is barely a passing grade and you should have been able to win the scholarship, monetary status be damned.

“What are you making?” Atsumu asks from behind you.

“Udon.”

“Why is it black?” 

“I’m using Sepia.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.” You snap back, hoping against hope that he will fall quiet. He doesn’t. 

-

You’ve spent almost a year in a class with Osamu.

He might not always get a better mark than you, but he quickly figured out how much you hated it when he did. There’s nothing worse than someone else gloating over your loss.

The teachers love him and tolerate you. 

So far they’ve been kind enough not to put the two of you into a group project, or maybe they just played it safe. The sheer bloodlust you feel when he grins in your direction must have tipped them off.

But this year is going to end soon and your teachers expect you to come up with a dish. Your own creation, not unlike the dish you had to make for your entry exam. This time, however, it’s supposed to showcase what you want to do, going forward.

You can’t bring the same thing you made for your entry exam, even though it was perfect and a delight - you made it roughly one hundred times before. 

Your father has always been a fan of the Kaiseki Ryori and while you had loved taking part in the Haute Cuisine as a child, feeling grown up as you nibbled on tiny bites of expensive food, it has lost its appeal on you.

After all, there’s a set number of times you can eat a meal, even Chawanmushi, before you get sick of it.

“Hello? Are you still listening?” Nuisance number 2 asks behind you and you flinch, staring down at the dough that you kneaded for too long. 

“What’s Osamu doing for his exam?” You ask, feeling a little guilty about your attempt at spying.

“Why do you want to know?”

Nevermind. Now you only feel annoyed.

“Just because. Maybe I want to talk about something other than you.”

You move to throw the dough out, only to be stopped by Atsumu’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

“I messed it up. It’s not going to taste good.”

“So what? I’m hungry.”

“You want to eat gross noodles?” You eye him warily, but he shrugs with a grin.

“It’s definitely going to be better than what I’d produce myself. But since I hate cooking, I’d probably just get takeout pizza anyway.”

“Aren’t you an athlete?”

“Yeah?”

“And they let you eat Pizza?”

“They don’t know. Or they don’t care. Whatever you like better. I mean, they gave me a list of stuff I should keep away from but that’s like, all the food I usually consume.”

“Here.” You pull out a pen and paper. “Write down what you eat in a day. Snacks included. And drinks.”

“Why?”

“If I have to endure your chatting, you might as well get something out of this. Now, shoo!”

You turn, lid of your composter already open when his voice reaches you.

“DON’T THROW AWAY THE DOUGH!”

“Fine!” You snap. “You can eat your disgusting noodles!”

They don’t taste that awful in the end, not with your delicate sauce with mussels and steamed broccoli that turned out so good Atsumu licks his plate clean.

-

You’d been part of the track club in Middle School, switched to Volleyball in High School because they had fewer practice hours per week. Your marks had always been more important than any side activities, your future as a part of Haute Cuisine decided before you could walk. But it had been fun, especially when Coach gathered you after practice to talk about the importance of self-care. How certain foods could make or break you. How important salt and minerals were for your body, how food was more than calories, protein, carbs, and fat.

You’re not even a little bit rusty when you scribble down a meal plan for him. You keep it easy and as cheap as possible, light on the cooking because you figured he must be the opposite of his twin in the kitchen if he came begging for food… You’re not sure if you’re buying his excuse of a brotherly fight, but you’re not ashamed to say that you didn’t mind him praising your food over Osamu’s. Suck that, Miya!

Meanwhile, Atsumu’s brows are pulled so high, they’re hiding behind his bangs.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Your new meal plan. You follow that, you’ll increase your stamina.”

“But it’s so much work.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Whatever.” You get up, throw the pen down at the table. Your patience has never been the best anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He follows you to the sink but not to help with the dishes.

“You could cook for me.” He offers it like it’s a great deal. You snort.

“I bet there’s something you want. Something I could do for you…” He wiggles his brows now, looks disgustingly like Osamu when he got a better mark then you. And that kickstarts your brain.

“I want Osamu… I mean the recipe…You know, what Osamu made to get the scholarship. If you can get me that dish of him to try, I’ll cook for you.”

Atsumu grins in a way that doesn’t feel good but he nods.

“Alright, it’s a deal. You’ll cook for me and I get you the dish.” He holds out his hand to sign the deal but you’ve been the daughter of a cutthroat banker for too long to fall for that.

“I’ll cook for a week.” You tell him firmly and watch with a sick satisfaction as his face contorts. He looks awful when he’s pissed and there are definitely not enough moments of the Miya twins looking awful.

“Two weeks.

“One week, only dinner.”

“One week, lunch, dinner and snacks.”

“Are you insane?”

“Do you want Osamu’s food?”

There’s a moment of Silence, and you’re eyeing each other, calculating who’s bluffing and who’s not.

“Fine.” You huff eventually, because you feel it in your bones that trying that damned dish will get you a step closer to figuring out what you need to present for your Final.

-

You feel like a drug addict, going down the deep end, when Atsumu appears at your door one week later, carrying a Bento-Box wrapped in the cutest fabric you have ever seen.

“Are those little foxes?” You ask, eyeing the reddish-tinted animals on the grey fabric.

“What if ?” He asks back, nose up in the air.

“Jeez, I was just curious.” You snap back and muster him. He doesn’t look malnourished.

“What did you eat this week?”

“Why do you ask?” He sets the Bento-Box on your table and saunters into your kitchen, peering into the still empty pots and pans.

“You’re an awful liar.”

“Okay, so I told Samu that you cooked for me.” He throws his hands up in the air like you’re the one making a big fuss about things. “Told him it was fingerlickin’ good. Got him all angry and puffy.”

You are not ashamed to say that comment lifts you off your feet just a little bit. Hah!

“So?” You ask cooly, untying the Furoshiki with eager fingers.

“So he insisted that he would cook for me. Everything went according to plan, I pretended it wasn’t as good as your food until I asked for the dish he made for his entry exams.”

“Did you know what it was?” You ask as you lift the lid of the box.

“Maybe.” He says and you can hear in his voice that he knew. He probably didn’t tell you just to experience this.

“He made Onigiri?” You ask, your voice a little shrill.

You had made Chawanmushi, a dish literally to die for, practiced one hundred times, and he beat you with Onigiri?

“Try it.” He reaches for one of the Onigiri in the box and you slap his hand away.

“Mine!” You hiss angrily and his grin is almost feral.

“I’ll take a walk around the block then.” He jokes, moving toward the door. “Leave you alone with it.”

“Leave.” You wave him off. “I’ll make dinner later.”

“Half an hour.”

“Leave!” You huff and the door clicks shut behind him.

-

You bite into the first Onigiri and time stops for a second. 

The rice is cooked to perfection, but you know the different varieties well. He must have splurged on this kind, bought from a boutique farmer of some sorts. 

It’s filled with tuna and spring onion, but it tastes different then all the Tuna Onigiri you’ve had before. You write down all the different things you can taste, compare them to the knowledge you have but still - did he use a spice you don’t know? A combination you’re not familiar with?

The taste lingers, but you cannot put your finger on it. You feel a little weepy too, as if you had just watched your favorite movie from when you were a kid. You sniff and take the other Onigiri, bite into almost cautiously. It’s Tenmusu, your favorite kind of Onigiri.

This time, literal tears run down your cheeks. The shrimp is crisp, the sweet sauce calling you back to childhood, reminding you of the few free afternoons you got to spend with your mother, just the two of you, no work allowed. You only remember to write down the taste and ingredients when the last bite has disappeared and your hands leave the paper stained. 

Well… You’re no closer to figuring out what to make for your finals, but you might be getting your period soon. Why else would you be moved to tears by food?

-

“Onigiri, huh?” You ask Osamu after class the next day. You can’t help yourself.

He looks up from his phone, surprise on his face. It’s ridiculous how good that makes him look.

“What about it?”

“I heard you made Onigiri for your Entry Exam.”

“Ah, yes.” He smiles, the kind of smile that makes you want to slap it off his face. “Tsumu told me he made you try it.”

You can feel your face go slack. WHAT?

“What did you think?” Osamu asks, way too confident for your taste. “Did you like them?”

You can’t decide between a huff and a snort and the sound that does come out reminds you more of a dying walruss.

“They were probably pitying you.” You point out, nose in the air. “I showed up with Kaiseki Ryori. I made Chawanmushi.”

“Ah.” Osamu sounds like he’s not sure what that is. But you’ve gone over that in class, he’s just messing with you.

“Well, when do I get to try it?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“Yeah, it’s only fair, right? After you tried mine.”

You swallow thickly, look around for some help, but you’re the only one’s still in the hallway.

“Fine.” You huff eventually, because he does have a point. “As long as I don’t have to eat it.”

His brows furrow and your mind unhelpfully supplies you with the information that his eyes are a different shade than Atsumu’s. Osamu’s eyes are almost as grey as his hair, reminding you of the sky outside. 

His mouth moves and you blink, try to focus on his voice, but fail. Your collar feels too tight around your neck and you pull at it, too aware of Osamu’s eyes that flicker to your neck and stay there. God, what’s going on?”

“What did you say?” You ask in the most snooty voice you can manage. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Why do you cook something you don’t like?” He asks. “Don’t you enjoy cooking?”

Something snaps inside you like a rubberband that has been pulled taut for too long.

“Why do you care?” You sniff and he rolls his eyes. 

“I was just asking.”

“Sure you were. But you’re psychological warfare doesn’t work on me! You can flutter your long eyelashes at someone else!”

Osamu laughs. “I wasn’t-”

“Neither was I. Well, are you coming or not?”

“Where?” 

“You wanted to try my Chawanmushi!”

“Gesundheit.” You turn, not the least bit surprised to see Atsumu standing there. It’s lunchtime for him, he’s coming to collect his goods. “Or was that a codeword for something naughty?”

“Oh god, you’re awful.” 

-

You know that the Chawanmushi has turned out as perfect as all the other times. You can tell by sight and smell, but you cannot bring yourself to try it.

The thought of it has you swallow back bile but you serve it to the brothers with the biggest smile you can manage.

“Here.” You present it in tiny, elegant bowls.

“Are you in pain?” Osamu asks and you drop the smile.

“Go f-” 

“Why is it so tiny?” Atsumu asks, eyeing the bowl skeptically. “I’m hungry.”

“I made you Curry.” You tell him off. “This is just a tasting. You can’t eat full bowls with Kaiseki Ryori, you’d never manage that amount of food.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Atsumu digs in, spoon clinking loudly against the bowl to the point you fear for its life.

He’s done with it before Osamu has even tasted his, still smelling the dish carefully, pulling the spoon through as if to check for clumps.

“It was fine.” Atsumu gives his mark as one would comment on an order of KFC. “Now, the Curry?” 

You huff but don’t get up, eyes still trained on Osamu. Then, finally, he brings the spoon to his mouth. If you’re focusing a little too much on his full lips, that’s entirely because he’s the world's slowest eater at the moment and nothing else.

His face remains passive. 

Cold sweat runs down your back as he slowly but surely finishes the dish and nods appraisingly.

“It was good.” Osamu says calmly. “The Curry?”

Breathing is a little hard at the moment, but you manage to get up, collect the bowls - you don’t throw them at the floor in a fit of rage and you’re very proud of yourself for that - and get them safely to the kitchen sink.

Your hands shake a little as you serve the Curry in three different plates, but if the boys notice, they don’t comment on it. 

“I hope you like it.” Your voice is back to normal, your wounded heart tucked safely back into your chest. “It’s packed with protein and healthy vegetables to make sure you have all the necessary nutrients. You could eat this every day and wouldn’t have to worry about losing out on anything.”

Atsumu digs in without another word. He beams around the spoon, curses loudly.

“This is so good.” He says, mouth full.

“Pig.” Osamu announces next to him, puts the first spoon into his mouth and-

You can see it, in the widening of his eyes and the light blush that appears on the height of his unfairly sharp cheekbones. He likes it. He likes it very much.

You should probably feel a bit more upset about the fact that they insult your Chawanmushi but get high on your Curry, but then again, it just feels good to watch Osamu have the same reaction to your Curry that you had with his Onigiri.

“You should make this for the Exam.” Osamu points out in between a groan and another spoonful of Curry. “It’s amazing.”

“No!” Atsumu shakes his head, still speaks with his mouth full. “The Udon you made yesterday. That was crazy good.”

“What Udon?” Osamu’s voice has a tint to it you cannot place. Does he know about the Onigiri you tried but not about the deal itself? Is he jealous he didn’t get to try them?

“Okay, so she makes the Noodles herself, right? This time without the freaky black stuff-”

“Sepia,” you throw in but he ignores you, “But she used pork belly for the sauce and something creamy and mushrooms, I think-”

“Shiitake.” 

“And I tell you, Samu, it was so so good! Like, it reminded me of Mom making that stew, you know? When Dad had that big sale thing and we got to celebrate it?”

Osamu’s eyes light up in a way that has you looking down at your food, heart thrumming in your chest like a hummingbird on speed.

“Can you-” He hesitates for a second. “Can you make me that?”

“I could.” You point out, not at all feeling the upper hand. You feel nervous instead as if this is a test or something worse. You swallow thickly, try to think of something to wager against it. Your mind is unhelpful at best, offering the possibility of a date - as if! 

“If I get your recipe. For the Onigiri.”

Osamu’s mouth clicks shut. He blinks, clearly surprised. Then he grins, the kind of grin that tells you this isn’t going to work in your favor, at all.

“Sure. So, Udon tomorrow?”

“I was going to make Katsudon tomorrow.” You point out, pissed that he’s overthrowing your meal plan. Atsumu looks like he’s gotten a glimpse of heaven.

“Really?”

-

You hate to think about it, but the week is nearing its end and Osamu feels less like the devil and more like the dangerously cute boy from your class now. The dangerously cute boy who’s going to get a better mark than you, take the promised internship at one of Japan's leading five-star restaurants and laugh in your face if you don’t shape up right now.

Your father is as helpful as ever.

He’s currently obsessed with the Yakimono part of Kaiseki Ryori, taking you out to dinner each weekend only to try new variants that you should use for your Final Exam.

The food is good, there’s no denying that, but it lacks the emotional touch you had with the Onigiri.

The same Onigiri that you’ve made three times already. They never taste like Osamu’s.

You’re suspecting that he skipped on one ingredient in the recipe, the one thing you could not put your finger on when you tried them. 

“Hey.” Atsumu’s waiting at your door when you return from coffee with your mother. She had been even less helpful, talking about the new dessert dish she was creating. You might have gotten her cooking skills, but you hate baking almost as much as Chawanmushi.

“I thought we said we would skip the cooking over the weekend.” 

“Yeah, about that.” He lifts a heavy bag. “I wanted to ask for a favor.”

“I’m not setting for you.”

“Why would I- Never mind, I wanted to ask… Could you like, show me… how to cook?”

You blink in surprise.

“Why would I teach you that? Don’t you have your brother?”

“He’s not a good teacher.” Atsumu points out and you snort.

“So you want to learn how to cook? And stop harassing me and Osamu?”

“No, no, I will still harass the two of you for food, but it looked easy when you did it, so I thought you could teach me, maybe?”

“Fine.” 

“I’m even pa- Fine? Oh, wow, that was easy.”

“If I can ask you some questions in turn without you judging me?”

“Me, judging someone? Never.” He puts a hand on his chest, probably aiming for his heart, but he’s now swearing on his left ribcage.

-

You watch like a Hawk as Atsumu prepares the Omurice. He’s got a bad habit of getting distracted, but he’s not a bad student.

“So…” You swallow your nerves. “You and Osamu used to play Volleyball together, right?”

“Yeah. He could have gone Pro, like me. But he said…” He raises his hands to make air quotes and lowers his voice into a deeper pitch to mock Osamu, “Skillswise I'm just as good as you. But I think that, when all's said and done, you love volleyball just a teensy bit more than me.”

“And you were okay with that?” 

“Nah.” Atsumu flips the Omurice onto a plate and hands it over to you. “Try.”

“It’s good.” You hand it back to him. “Eat.”

-

When Atsumu leaves, you’re left with even more questions than before.

What does it mean to love something so much you’re willing to pass up something good?

Atsumu is making good money as a Pro, even now. But Osamu had no idea if he was going to make it into this school until he tried.

And why did he make freaking Onigiri?

Midnight has come and gone when you put a jacket over your sleepshirt and slip out of your apartment in nothing but booty shorts and bunny slippers.

You’re not sure if there’s a nightguard. There might be, this is still a mixed dorm filled with hormonal teens and tweens. 

Even though you’ve never been to Osamu’s place before, you know the route by heart. You had memorized it in a childish fit when you realized his room was just below the fire escape.

You wouldn’t allow him to survive you in case of an emergency.

You knock twice before you can hear movement. The door opens and you almost swallow your tongue.

His hair is in disarray as if he’d dragged his hands through it all night and there’s the imprint of his pillow left on his cheek. He’s topless and you keep your eyes trained on the imprint on his cheek as if you don’t notice his happy trail or his still well-trained abs. 

He blinks slowly and yawns.

“What’s up?” He asks. Something moves over his face, quick like a sparrow. “Shit, are you hurt? Did something happen?!”

“No, no, I… Shit, I don’t know, I-”

“Come in.” He pulls you inside, but he calculates wrong, uses too much force for your quivering body. You end up mushed against his chest, face plant right into the warm skin.

If you die like this, you won’t even be mad about it.

“Shit, sorry.” He grabs you and puts you at a distance again, blush high on his cheeks. 

“Your Onigiri.” You start, before he can realize that you’re flustered too. “You didn’t list all the ingredients.”

“I did.”

“Did not. They don’t taste the same.”

“Ah.” He makes that insufferable sound like he knows everything you don’t. 

You want to poke his abs, but you decide against it, mainly because it would make you look weird. But they do look ni-

“Tea?” He asks and you hold your right hand with your left, just in case it turns sentient. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“Your Onigiri don’t taste like mine, because I make them for someone.”

“What?”

“The Tuna one.” He looks at the kettle instead of you, but his voice is wistful, distant. “I always make that one for Tsumu.”

“And the Tenmusu?”

“It’s my Mom’s favorite.” He says softly and you can’t help it, but you start to cry.

“Your Mom likes Tenmusu too?”

“Ah, shit, don’t tell me- Wait, here, take this…” He hands you a tissue to blow your nose and dry your tears. 

“So you’re saying your secret ingredient is love? You’re really going to stand there and make me believe that you got the scholarship because you put love in your food?”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me. But there’s a reason your Chawanmushi did not taste as good as your Curry.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Gladly.” He smirks at you and this time your hand is faster than your mind, pointer finger digging into the firm muscle of his right pectoral.

“Don’t mess with me.”

“Why not?” His face moves closer to you, or did you move closer to his? “Isn’t it fun?”

Whoever moved first doesn’t matter now as his breath washes over you. His eyes skip to your lips and you lick them, no thoughts left in your brain.

Behind him, the kettle whistles, signaling that the water’s cooking, but neither of you moves. 

This could end very badly, or very great, however you want to look at it. 

Your mind, helpful as ever, comes up with a sentence that just slips out of your mouth unprompted.

“Atsumu said that you loved Volleyball a little-”

He draws back the moment he hears you speak, face now closed like a window that has let down its shutters. 

“Right, Atsumu.” He says, interrupting you. “You should get back to the bed.”

“But the tea…”

“I forgot.” He takes the kettle off the stove. “I was going to make a hot water bottle for myself. Sorry.” 

-

Somehow, somewhere, you took a wrong turn.

Maybe it was when you started liking Osamu, in this weird way that has you enjoy the bickering and the competitiveness. Maybe it was even before that, when you let Atsumu get away with his needling, fed him Udon instead of throwing him out.

Or maybe it was even before that, when you didn’t put up a fight everytime your father decided for you, when your mother put work before spending time with you. 

It’s a good thing that Finals are right around the corner.

You can’t focus in most classes, left staring holes into Osamu’s back. 

Atsumu’s stopped showing up himself, probably now a master in cooking for himself. Or he’s gone back to Osamu, to fantastic Onigiri and whatever else he knows how to make.

-

Four days before the Final, someone bangs on your door.

“Jeez, I’m coming.” You pull the door open to reveal Atsumu, soaked and clearly pissed..

“You okay?” You ask. “Or do you need a towel?”

“Why are you not a couple?” He asks back. “Like, the tension was there, you were practically undressing each other at the table - in front of me, might I add - and yet you’re not even speaking to each other? I even cooked all my meals these past weeks in the hopes of hearing good news but Samu’s acting like a bug crawled up his ass and died.”

“What are you even talking abou-”

“Oh, don’t fool me.” He steps inside and moves toward your bathroom without asking. “I just ran here because all I get from Samu are cryptic messages. Did you say something?”

“No, I-”

“Spill.” Atsumu points at the kitchentable, hesitates for a second, then he points at the kitchen itself. “Make some food while your at it. Also, can I have some change of clothes?”

You make Okayu with ginger and honey, the rice porridge a comfort to your heart and a boost to Atsumu’s immune system.

It’s not a long tale. It could be, probably, but you refuse to go into more detail than necessary. Atsumu might be kind of a friend, in his weird, annoying way, but he’s still Osamu’s twin brother.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” He grabs the bag with his clothes and stalks off, dressed in one of your oversized hoodies and bright pink pajama pants, both things slightly too short on him.

“Give him a chance when he comes back,” are his parting words.

But Osamu does not show up.

Neither does he the next morning in class.

-

One of the teachers calls you over after class.

“You and Miya-san are pretty close, right?” She starts, speaks on while you’re still trying not to choke on your spit. “Could you bring him the notes from today? He called in sick. Tell him to take care and rest, so that he can take part in the Final.”

“I-I will.”

You end up in your own room instead, debating if you should just leave everything in front of his door and run. If he’s not at the final, you automatically win. But that’s not a win you’d feel good about, if you’re being honest to yourself.

Before you know it, you find yourself making Oyaku again, with Ginger and Honey, the one food that always gives you comfort and boosts your health. The process is simple, but it still calms you down every time. When it’s done, you look down at two portions and know what to do.

-

“Osamu?” The door is closed, but you can hear faint shuffling behind it. “I made you Oyaku. I heard you’re sick and got your notes from the teachers. I didn’t tell them that I’m a friend of yours, but she was convinced of it and didn’t let me change her mind. But I… we kinda are friends, right?” You feel so weird talking to the closed door. 

“Even if you don’t like me, we got to keep up the reputation. Eat the Oyaku, okay? Winning doesn’t feel the same if you kick yourself out of the game.”

You put everything in front of his door and leave, lingering at the end of the hallway, just out of sight, until you hear his door. When you look back, the Oyaku is gone and all you have to do is wait.

-

Osamu is already outside when you step out of the classroom. 

“Already finished?”

“Onigiri doesn’t take that long to make.” 

“Ah, right.” You nod, don’t know if you should avoid his gaze or follow your instinct and look a bit more closely. He sounds healthy at least.

“What did you make?” His voice is gruff when he asks.

“Ginger Honey Oyaku.” You answer, voice soft. “Which might confuse the teachers because I had all the ingredients ready for honey-glazed pork belly but I decided against it at the last second.”

“I’d have loved to try that pork belly.” Osamu sighs dreamily. “But that Oyaku was so good. I could eat that everyday and never get tired of it.”

“Same.” You smile but it falters when you feel his eyes on you and you know you’ve got to say it. “I made it for you.”

“Yeah, I know-”

“No, what you said… about the Entry Exam.” You can feel your heartbeat, like the fluttering of hummingbird wings. If you’re going to pass out during your confession, you’re going to kill Osamu for it.

Behind you, the door opens and two more students step out. Osamu looks at them and back at you and you nod, point down the hallway. “Let’s take a walk?”

There’s a broom closet not far down and you slip inside only to regret it seconds later. There’s barely enough space for the two of you, his breath washing over you as you try to focus on the words you need to say. Out loud, so he can hear them too.

“I want to beat you.” You can hear him snort, but you keep your gaze on your hands. You won’t be able to speak if you look into his eyes. “But you’re also really funny and caring and cute, in a way. I could see myself, I mean, I already, you know-”

“What about Tsumu?” He asks, voice strangely hoarse.

“What about him?”

“Don’t you like him more? You don’t feel the need to beat him every two seconds, right?”

You roll your eyes and groan.

“Seriously? The best thing about Atsumu is that he looks kinda like you.”

If you had wanted to say more - you didn’t, but you hate letting anyone else have the last word - it leaves your mind the second his lips press onto yours. 

Your mind’s not yet caught up, but your body is, hands dragging through his hair to pull him closer, to marvel at the softness of it - what conditioner is he using? - to have him a little closer.

His hands are on your hip, your back, roam over your shoulders, leaving warm trails and goosebumps behind.

Then there’s bright light and a shrill shriek and you burst away from each other only to face one of your teachers.

“What? The indecency! During an exam no less! Detention! Detention!” Her garbled words don’t make much sense, but the last word you understand.

Osamu sends you a look, his eyes speaking of little guilt and a promise to continue this latter. You can’t help but feel the same.

-

As it turns out, Detention automatically overrules your exceptional Exam marks. Neither of you wins the internship. Neither of you cares. 

Osamu had applied to an Onigiri shop not far from the school as a second option and with your last name you have no trouble securing an internship with a well-known nutritionist for Pro Athletes. 

Your father is not happy about your change in dreams, but when you explain the earning capacity of this position, and the business plan you’re already halfway through making, your excitement swaps over.

Your mother, as usual, barely listens. But you take it in stride, her usual droning on about a recipe she’s working on, by thinking about how in less than an hour, you’ll see Osamu again.

-

“You guys owe me.” Atsumu declares during Movie night. He’s perched on the edge of the couch, the last piece of the Pizza in his hands. “I’m talking about food for life.”

“We could have done it without you,” Osamu insists, arm around you, face nuzzled into your hair. He pretends he’s watching the movie, but you know better. He’s been thinking about the cheese crackers in your pantry for hours.

“If I hadn’t pulled you out in the rain to talk things through, you wouldn’t have gotten sick and your girlfriend wouldn’t have made Oyaku for you! That’s enough reason for you to love me forever!”

“If you hadn’t interfered he wouldn’t have had to think we were dating instead.” You point out and dig your hands into Osamu’s grip on your arms, moving away from him.

“Babe, what-” He starts but you nod in the direction of your pantry. “Get the crackers. I can’t watch you any longer.”

“Really?” His face lights up like a child in front of a Christmas tree. It’s worth the ridiculous price you paid for the crackers.

“Really.”

He kisses you and the moment could be perfect. But there’s still Atsumu, fake gagging in the background.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[mykoreanlove]

from one leader to another

some skz x bts siblings x flirty fluff - @kayleefriedchicken hope u like it :)

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

You roamed the city aimlessly, desperately trying to find the perfect present for your younger brother’s birthday. 

„Fuck, fuck, fuck“, you muttered under your breath as you noticed the time. 

One hour left.

You had exactly one hour to find the right gift or else everybody at his party would judge you as the worst sister of the century. You didn’t forget about his present, in fact you put a lot of thought into it but what do you get someone that already has everything? Why was this so hard for you? 

Your inner pity monologue got interrupted as your phone rang.

„Channie“, you greeted him, hoping he wouldn’t notice your dismay.

„You sound stressed. You good?“

Damn it. His little brother senses always tingled when you were in a crappy mood.

„Promise you won’t hate me?“

His laughter filled the line.

„What’s wrong?“

„I’m going crazy because of your stupid birthday present!“, you whined in annoyance.

„Y/N, my birthday party starts in an hour and you still have no present? Damn, do you hate me?“, he chuckled amused.

„Stop making fun of me and help me instead?“

„Help you how?“

„Oh, I don’t know - maybe actually tell me what you want?“

Chan laughed again.

„I did tell you!“

You sighed in exasperation.

„The fuck you did! Every time I ask you what I can get you, you tell me shit like „I just want you to be healthy and happy. Oh, and find a boyfriend already and get married and have kids, so mom won’t pester me about it“. Not helpful, Chan!“, you mocked him.

He burst out laughing, which pissed you off even more.

„I’m sure you’ll figure it out, y/nnie. I’m going to hang up, the boys are already here. See you in an hour.“

You angrily massaged your temples, not knowing what to do. Minutes after you hung up, Chan sent you a text - a picture of him with various presents from his friends, smiling giddily into the camera.

„That little shit“, you muttered under your breath.

Just you wait - I’ll figure this out!

 You had to be strategic about it - most of the shops were about to close anyway, so which one would you go to?

The ones with clothing? You shook your head as you recalled how much clothes he already had not only at his place but also yours.

The ones with books? Nah, that boy rarely reads, you argued with yourself.

Come on, think y/n. You can do this.

„Oh“, you jumped excitedly, as you had finally figured it out.

You walked straight to the biggest fragrance shop you could find, wandering in front of the men’s aisle.

„Whoa, those are a lot“, you noticed. 

The shelves were filled with various flacons - colorful or bland, minimalistic or eccentric, cheap or ridiculously expensive.

„Fuck, how am I supposed to find the right one before the shop closes?“

As your eyes scanned the shelves you noticed two teenage girls next to you, giggling and whispering about some guy close to you.

„He is so hot, oh my god“, one of them whispered.

„I know and he smells soooo good“, the other one agreed.

You cautiously turned your head, curious about the guy they were talking about. 

„Damn“, you whispered under your breath.

He was good looking! He was tall and built like a greek god, muscular yet lean. His dark long hair suited his handsome face perfectly, adding to his chic yet urban style. You didn’t notice yourself wander closer to him, as you were too engulfed analyzing his features. You chuckled as you noticed his hair fall into his brown eyes, he clumsily pushed the strands away from his face but they fell back every time. He had a sharp gaze, observing the perfumes in front of him with precision. 

„I bet he’s hella smarted“, you mumbled silently.

Finally, you were standing right next to him. You closed your eyes, as you took him all in, his presence was mesmerizing. Shit, those girls were right. He smells amazing, you thought to yourself, lost in your mind altogether. 

The stranger turned around with wide eyes, asking you bluntly: „Did you just smell me?“

You opened your eyes abruptly, embarrassed to the core. 

„I, uh, ha, yeah, so, funny story“, you rambled shyly. 

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and faced you, a sly smile on his lips.

„I’m listening.“

You cursed yourself internally but decided to spill the truth.

„You see I am here because I need a gift. Not any gift but THE gift. And I was standing over there overlooking all these perfumes as I heard some teenagers giggle and gush about you.“

He averted his gaze to the right and looked at the two girls behind you who turned around abruptly, hiding their faces.

„Go on“, he mumbled as he looked at you again. „So, yeah, they were saying how good you smelled and since I need that perfect gift I thought I would find out for myself.“

He leaned his head to the side as he was listening to you ramble.

„And you thought smelling me, a mere stranger, was the best way to go about it?“

„In hindsight? No. But I am desperate, so cut me some slack. Please.“

He let out a deep sigh and uncrossed his arms, picking up the perfume he was wearing and handing it over to you.

„That’s the one“, he pointed out.

You observed the package, it looked hella expensive but it did smell divine. 

„Thank you“, you whispered. 

„Do you need it for your boyfriend?“

You laughed out loud, not realizing that he was serious about it.

„No. I don’t have a boyfriend. This one is for my brother.“

„Ah“, he nodded. 

Now, that the shock was gone, you noticed the stranger’s voice - deep and raspy, a melodic sound you would have loved to listen to for longer. Sadness formed in your gut as he turned around, ending this conversation now that you had what you wanted.

„Hey, wait.“

He turned around again, looking at you expectantly. Damn, why did he have to be so handsome? Okay, focus, Y/N, focus.

„I kinda feel like owning you an apology for sniffing you, so uhm, sorry…?“

„Joon“, he replied.

„Joon?“

„Yeah, actually Namjoon but you can call me Joon.“

Gosh, his name is just as pretty as he is.

„And whom does the sniffing nose belong to?“

„Y/N“, you stretched out your hand, waiting for him to shake it.

Namjoon smiled warmly as he shook your delicate hand. 

„Nice to meet you, Y/N.“

Nice to meet you, too, Joon. 

His presence made you feel warm, and comfortable. 

„So, when’s the party?“

You took a glance at your wrist, cursing yourself for arriving late.

„Started 30 minutes ago“, you confessed.

„So what, you forgot about the present?“

„No“, you exclaimed agitated.

„I just.. It’s hard to shop for him, that’s all.“

„So, you were looking for the perfect gift, is that it?“

You nodded, not entirely convinced that a perfume would be it but you were left with no options.

„What about you? Shopping for yourself?“

„Yeah, I was kinda looking for the next perfume that you would sniff on me, actually“, he mused jokingly.

Wait, what was he saying?

„Wouldn’t your girlfriend be mad about that?“

Clearly, someone like him had to be taken already. Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise - were you that oblivious?

„I don’t have one. So sniff me all you want“, he smiled sneakily.

You looked down, cheeks rosy and shy from this playful banter.

„Excuse me but we are closing the shop right now. Please buy something or leave, thank you“, the store clerk interrupted the two of you.

„Oh sure, sorry!“, you marched to the front, paying for the ridiculously expensive perfume while Namjoon was following you. You stood outside the store for a while, getting to know each other and flirting candidly. 

You learned that he was an artist, who worked with his hands a lot. He loved to read and rhyme on his own, often hanging out at public libraries and hidden bookstores. You bit your lip as you were right about him, he was a smart one.

Smart. Handsome. Funny. And into me. What were the odds?

„Do you think your brother will like the perfume?“

You shrugged your shoulders, not really sure if that was the best gift after all. You recalled his words in your mind „be happy and healthy and get a boyfriend“…

Suddenly, a new idea flooded your consciousness.

„Hey Joon?“, you asked out of the blue.

„Hm?“

„What are you doing tonight?“

„Nothing, actually. I’m free like a bird“, he cheered warmly. 

Jackpot.

„Wanna come with me? Be my date for tonight?“

[megxplryxb]

More Than This Part 2.

Authors Note: I am beyond sorry for the 9 month wait for this. I just lost my motivation for writing but its slowly and surely coming back. Thank you all for being so patient. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: GIF is not mine.

Link for Part 1: More Than This

The last of your salty tears trickle down the bathtub drain as you wrap yourself up in a well-worn motel towel. The shower had done little to improve your mood, switching from hot to cold just as you had been with Steve for the past several weeks. You had been doing so well up until recently, trying to avoid him and your feelings but now that you were sharing a room and bed with him for the night, it was going to be next to impossible to hide the fact that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend.

The rusty faucet dripped little beads of water into the sink despite it being turned off while you carefully applied your make up, hoping Steve and the others wouldn’t notice the slight puffiness under your eyes from crying. Admittedly, you were taking a little longer than usual to get ready, making sure your eyeliner was just right, lips perfectly glossed and kissable and your outfit was showing off all your best features, ‘cause although you felt like utter shit, you didn't want to look like shit too.

As you began to gather up your things, folding the towel back on to the rack, you heard a tap on the bathroom door. “Hey, are you almost done in there? I need to take a piss really bad.” Steve said in a seemingly more relaxed tone than earlier. Unlocking the bathroom door, you find your best friend standing shirtless in his Levi's, leaning against the doorframe and you curse him for looking so damn beautiful.

“I did ask if you needed to use the bathroom before I went in.” You huff, quick to brush past him, clothes and make up bundled in your arms as his eyes follow you around the room, nostrils filling with the scent of your vanilla perfume, jaw a little slack as he scanned your body.

Steve couldn't help but notice the little black dress you were wearing along with your signature converse, how it sparkled and fit perfectly on your body, breasts spilling out over the top ever so slightly. He knows it’s wrong to think of you that way, because you’re his best friend and he's seeing someone else but sometimes he wonders if you know just how pretty you are.

“Uh, the air cons not working in here, the room's like a god damn sauna.” He informs, scratching the back of his neck, trying to avert his gaze from your frame.

“Well if you hadn’t made such a fuss about the sleeping arrangements, at least one of us would have had working air con tonight, Harrington.” You mutter, tucking your things back in to your duffle, pushing by him. Steve presses his tongue to his cheek, realising that whatever the hell was bothering you, wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. Defeated, he shuts the bathroom door, leaving you to finish getting ready alone.

He emerges fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, smelling great and you hate how good he looks in his tight jeans and white t-shirt, hair perfectly in place, not that it wasn’t always. It wasn't exactly the attire you expected someone to wear to a Metallica concert, but it was Steve after all, he wasn't exactly into Heavy metal.

You can feel the tension rising between you with each passing minute of silence, unspoken words hanging in the air as his hazel eyes burn a hole through your head while you both walk on eggshells around the small room. With one quick look in the mirror and one final spray of perfume, you grab your purse and head for the front door, not being able to stand the awkwardness a second longer. “I’m gonna go see if the others are ready.” You say, reaching for the door handle but you already hear his footsteps behind you.

“Wait, can we just talk for a sec?” Steve pleads, eyes wide with concern when you sigh loudly.

“About what?” You ask as he scoffs at your response. “Seriously? Oh, I don’t know, maybe about why you’ve been acting weird with me all day?” He replies, folding his strong arms and you immediately regret not just walking out of the room to find your friends because you aren't ready to have this conversation with him.

“Steve...”

“Not just today actually, it’s been going on for a while and honestly, I don’t know what I’ve said or done to piss you off and believe me, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure it out. But I’ve obviously done something because you’re so angry at me and.….”

“I’m not…I’m not angry.” You reply, not really knowing what else to say to him.

“You’re not?” He asks, raising his brows in surprise.

“Look, you haven’t done anything to upset me, alright?” You say, giving him a fake smile but he’s not convinced at all.

“Come on, give me some credit here sweetheart. We’re supposed to be best friends, yeah?” He asks moving closer towards you.

“Mhm” Is all you manage to say when he takes your hand but you’re quick to pull it away again, feeling the heat on your cheeks start to rise, placing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then what's going on huh? Why are you staying at Robin’s? I really miss you.” Steve confesses with such a mixture of sadness and sincerity that you almost consider telling him everything right there and then but you're not ready to hear that he doesn't feel the same way and so instead, you lie.

“There’s no big reason, Steve. Robin mentioned that you were on a couple of dates and I didn’t want to get in the way of anything, I think it’d be a bit awkward with me in the next room, don’t you?” You joke, trying to make an effort with him and you can see the confused expression on his face.

“Robin told you about Tracy?” He asks, surprised by how cool you were being about this, but the minute you hear the name fall from his mouth, he instantly realises Robin never told you who it was he was actually dating.

“Wait, did you say Tracy? As in Tracy Turner from high school, that’s who you’re dating!?” You question, furrowing your brows as Steve takes a step back, sensing the air getting thicker between you again.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of, I mean it’s pretty new and…”

"How....when did...where did you even..."

"She was at the video store a few times and I don't know, we were talking one day and she just sort of asked me out." Steve explained nervously.

“And you said yes?"

"Well, girls haven't exactly been lining up to date me recently if you hadn’t noticed.” He muttered, trying to make a joke out of it but it wasn’t working.

"I can’t believe you’d date her after what she did to me!” You yell, shaking your head in disbelief.

Tracey Turner had been one of your closest friends, once upon a time. That was until you found her in the back seat of a car with your then boyfriend Matt Anderson. It wasn’t that you’d been with Matt for long or even loved him but she was supposed to be your friend and she didn’t even apologise for hurting you. Now here she was, a couple of years later trying to take Steve away from you too. Your Steve. Steve, who you actually loved.

“Come on, that was years ago! She’s changed since then.” Steve says, panic apparent in his voice when he sees the look in your eyes and he knows he’s said the wrong thing again.

“Don’t you dare defend her!” You growl and he’s wincing at how angry you are now. “Can you just calm down for a second?” He begs, hands in the air, surrendering to you immediately, not wanting to fight or upset you anymore than he already had.

“Calm down? My “best friend” is dating a girl who FUCKED my boyfriend and you want me to calm down?” You yell, enraged at the new information you've discovered, seeing nothing but visions of them together in your head. Had he slept with her already? Had she occupied your side of Steve’s bed that you’d sleep on when you watched movies late in to the night? Had she seen pieces of your clothing lying around his house? Had she seen the pictures of you and Steve on his bedside table? Had he told her he loved her? Oh god, you were going to be sick.

“I’m sorry, alright? Shit, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.” He exhales, throwing his head back.

“Oh really, Steve? If it wasn't such a big deal to you then why didn't you tell me about her, huh?” You ask bluntly as Steve's face begins to harden.

"You didn't tell me about Hargrove."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I had to find out from Henderson that you were dating that asshole and that’s only because he caught you making out on the couch while you were supposed to be babysitting!” Steve argues and you can't help but laugh at how immature he was being.

"That's completely different, we were barely even friends back then."

“But we were friends and you knew I hated him but you went out with him anyway!" He fires back, leaning against the old chest of drawers.

"Yeah, only because you were still getting....." You start to say before you stop yourself, realising that you'd almost blown your cover when Steve looks at you confused.

“Because I was still getting what?” He asks with a heightened interest, just as a knock comes to the door.

“What the hell is going on in here, we could hear you yelling outside!” Eddie shouts when you open the door, seeing the distressed look on your face as Steve stood silent, still waiting for your reply.

"Nothing, let's just go." You mutter, moving by your friends to exit the room. "You are SUCH a dingus, dingus." Robin rolls her eyes at Steve before chasing after you, figuring that you've somehow found out about Tracy Turner, praying that you won't be pissed at her for not telling you.

"Yeah, I know Robin, thanks." Steve sighs heavily, trying to follow but Eddie holds him back, placing a hand on his friends chest. "Dude, take it from me, let her cool off for a while."

"Eddie, I need to talk to her man, I need to fix this." He attempts to push by again but the metal head refuses to budge.

"How are you going to fix it Steve, huh? Do you even know what's going on with her?" Eddie questions, as Steve sighs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, but I guess she told you, yeah? You two looked pretty close in the parking lot earlier." Steve grunts, while Eddie lets out a smug laugh. "Careful big boy, you almost sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous man, I'm just...fuck, I don't know!” He exhales loudly, leaning against the wall of the motel room. “Maybe I am." Steve admits, putting a hand through his hair, slumping to the ground. “I just, I don’t know what’s going on with her y’know? She's always talked to me about everything and now? I can barely get her to look at me.” Steve sighs as Eddie takes a seat beside his friend, patting him on the shoulder.

“Look dude, there’s nothing to be jealous about ok? There’s nothing going on between us, shit I’d be so lucky.” Eddie chuckles and Steve feels a sudden feeling of relief wash over him. “Sadly, she’s only got eyes for one lucky son of a bitch and unfortunately, it isn’t me.” Eddie smirks, as the other boy lifts his head in a panic.

“She’s seeing someone?”

“No dumbass, fuck– do I really need to spell it out for you?" Eddie asks, his eyes rolling back in his head when Steve still hadn't gotten the hint. “Come on man, you’ve gotta know she’s fucking crazy about you?”

“What?” Steve exhales in disbelief as Eddie's words reply in his head. “Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to.” Eddie replies letting out a heavy breath. “Steve man, you didn’t see her that night on the lake. You didn’t see the fear in her eyes when you got pulled under the water. She jumped in after you so fast, she didn't even look back to see if the rest of us were following."

Steve remembered that night vividly, probably better than anyone else. Hell, there were still nights that he woke up in a cold sweat, thinking those bats were feasting on his flesh. Those were the nights that he missed you the most. How you’d wrap your arms around him, pull him close and tell him everything was ok now. That you could finally all move on with your lives. He missed the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, the sound of your heartbeat as his head rested on your chest. You never told anyone about those nights, he’d made you promise. Cause he had to be strong for the kids.

He thought back to that night in the Upside Down, how he feared he'd never see your face again, that he'd never be able to tell you how he really felt about you. Then suddenly, you were there, eliminating the demobats one by one, tears in your eyes as you ran to him in a panic. He should have told you then, should have made it clear that you meant everything to him but then the others appeared and so he decided to choose another time. A time when you weren't in immediate danger. A time when it was just you and him and fuck, he'd tried to tell you so many times after that but every time he got close to saying it, something stopped him.

Fear.

What if he ruined everything?

What if you laughed in his face?

What if you didn't feel the same way?

What if it didn't work out and you left him like Nancy did?

Steve couldn't bare the thought of losing you, so instead of telling you the truth, he decided to bury his feelings deep down inside. Deciding, that he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you in his life at all. So, when Tracy Turner boldly asked him on a date, he begrudgingly accepted, hoping it would stop him from thinking about you.

It didn’t.

“Jesus Eddie, I’ve been such an idiot." Steve sighs angrily. "I’ve been trying so damn hard to pretend that I don’t have feelings for her instead of just..”

“Instead of what?” Eddie asks as Steve moves his head to look at his friend.

“Instead of telling her that I love her. That I’ve been in love with her since the moment she answered Henderson’s door three years ago.” He reveals and Eddie lets out the smallest of laughs.

“Yeah Harrington, you are an idiot and out of all the dumb shit you’ve ever done, pretending you don't love that girl is probably way up there. But from what I can see, she’s always gonna carry a big ol’ torch for you. So come on, go make this right and go get your girl. I’ve got a fuckin’ mosh pit to get to.”

When Steve and Eddie finally get to the entrance gate of the concert, they see Robin pacing back and fourth with a stressed out look on her face and Steve instantly feels a knot forming in his stomach when he realises you’re nowhere in sight.

"What the hell took you both so long?" She yells frantically.

“Had to knock some sense into Harrington here.” Eddie smirks, winking at Robin who offers him a confused glance.

"Where is she?" Steve questions his friend and Robin throws her hands in the air.

"I don’t know Steve! She took off by herself with some guy, went in with him, she didn't want to talk to me. She's pissed with a capital P!" Robin yells, angry at her friend for ever telling her that he'd been seeing Tracy Turner. Angry that she’d been put in the middle of this situation.

"Calm down Robs, we'll find her." Eddie reassures, placing a supportive arm around his friend.

"No, I'll find her, this is all my fault and I’m going to fix it." Steve says adamantly.

“I think you’re the last person she wants to see right now dingus.” Robin grunts but Steve’s already making a beeline for the entrance to the outdoor concert.

"Harrington!" Eddie yells as Steve takes a quick look back to his friends.

"Don't fuck it up." He shouts as the boy nods back before marching through a sea of bodies.

“What the hell is going on?” Robin questions, earning a grin from the metal head standing beside her as he throws a lazy arm over her shoulder.

“Fifty bucks says they’re fucking by the end of the night.”

Thirty minutes later and Steve is no closer to finding you. The darkness beginning to bleed in to the sky, the smell of weed and cheap alcohol lingering in the air as he looks for you in every queue, at every stand but it isn't until he hears the familiar laughter coming from behind him that he finally sees you. You’re sitting on the ground with a beer in hand, looking very cosy with the attractive tattooed stranger that’s much too close to you for Steve’s liking and your smile fades immediately when you see the boy standing in front of you.

"What are you doing? I've been looking everywhere for you." Steve asks, clearly annoyed by the presence of the other male beside you.

"I'm just making some new friends, not that it's any of your business." You mutter, taking a sip of your beer.

"This your boyfriend, sweetheart?" The man sitting next to you asks, grinning at Steve who keeps his eyes solely focused on you.

You shake your head instantly. "Nope. He's just a friend, or at least I thought he was."

“Can you please come with me? We really need to talk.” Steve begs, holding out a hand to you but you refuse to move. “We don’t have anything left to talk about.”

“I think we both know that we do.” Steve says, staring at you and you’re sure you see new determination behind his caramel tinted eyes.

"Don't worry about her pretty boy, I'll take good care of her, you go enjoy the show." The man smirks, placing a hand on your thigh as Steve’s jaw clenches.

"Get your hands off of her." Steve warns and suddenly you feel the tension in the air. Your eyes widen as Steve's fists begin to ball up, finally removing his eyes from you to look at the man sitting beside you.

"Why? She just said you're not her boyfriend and I don’t see her saying no.” The man responds, finally standing up to meet Steve face to face.

“Listen man, she’s coming with me, alright? Now get out of my face.” Steve threatens and you’re quick to jump to your feet now.

“Or what pretty boy?” The stranger smirks, shoving Steve back before you could get between them.

“Steve, don’t!” You warn, as his fist connects with the mans jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” You yell at your best friend but he’s too focused on the impending retaliation to hear you. But just as the tattooed stranger tries to take a swing at Steve, his arm is dragged back by the security guard who had witnessed the whole altercation, deciding enough was enough,

“You three, you’re out of here now!” He demands, getting in the middle of the two males who had been fighting over you.

“He fucking suckered me, dude!” The other boy argues, holding his jaw but the security guard just laughs, ignoring his pleas. “You shoved me first, pal.” Steve replies smugly as you’re all led to the exit.

You don’t even try to defend yourself or make an argument as to why you should be left stay to watch the concert, deciding that going back to the motel was probably for the best, the night had already been ruined for you long ago and you just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, where are you going now?” Steve shouts after you, following you back towards the direction of the motel.

“Just go away Steve, haven’t you already caused enough trouble for one day?” You fire at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a jerk but I really need to talk to you.”

“I already told you, I don’t have anything left to say, so just leave me alone.” You beg but Steve shakes his head, catching up to you.

“I can’t do that.” He says as you roll your eyes trying to pass him but he gets in your way again. He was never going to let you walk back to the motel alone in the dark. Not when you were both well aware that things do in fact, go bump in the night.

“Steve, why can’t you just–"

“Look, I know you hate me right now and trust me, I really hate me too. But I just need to know one thing, please? Fuck, I’ll even switch with Robin so you don’t have to share a room with me, alright?” He bargains, as you finally give in. The prospect of not having to share a bed with him being too much to turn down.

What? What do you want to know, Steve?” You question, folding your arms as he takes a deep breath before placing his hands on his hips.

“I want to know what you were going to say before Eddie knocked on the door earlier."

"What are you talking about?" You say, eyes widening in panic as Steve lets out a breath, pleading with you to be honest.

“You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I..."

"When we were arguing and I brought up Hargrove, you said you were only with him because I was still getting–?" He questions softly as you shake your head, looking anywhere but at him.

"I don't remember."

"Honey, please just–"

“I don’t remember Steve! So just drop it, ok?” You interrupt, starting to walk away as you hear his voice calling behind you.

“Because I was still getting over Nancy?” He asks, as your whole body freezes.

How did he know?

When you turn back to face him, he’s still standing there, staring at you, waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“You really are full of yourself, you know that?” You reply, voice trembling as he begins to close the space between you and you're not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

“If that's not what you were going to say, then tell me?" .

"Why does it matter?" You question, raising a frustrated brow at him, not understanding why he couldn't just let it go.

"Because I need to know–"

"Need to know what Steve? If I had a crush on you three years ago? Fine, ok, yes, I had a crush on you. Who fucking didn't? You were the most popular guy in school! And yeah, I did go out with Billy because I knew you were still getting over Nancy but you know what? I actually liked Billy. He was different with me but he just couldn't stand me being friends with you. He kept saying that I had feelings for you, that what I felt for you was more than a friendship and so he made me choose: him or you.…and I picked you.” You reveal, tears beginning to fall from your eyes as you finally decide to be honest with your best friend. “Cause all this time, Billy fucking Hargrove was right. I did have feelings for you, even if it took me almost losing you that night on the lake to figure it out." You cry, finally feeling a huge weight lifting from your chest and for the first time in months, you could breathe again.

Steve was frozen, pink lips pursed as he put a hand through his hair, heart aching at your admission and how much it was killing him to see you so upset. He wishes he hadn't been so stupid, hadn't been so afraid of losing you and just told you the truth when he had the chance. You’d never told him or anyone else why you and Billy broke up, always keeping it to yourself and he was more than a little shocked to realise it was because of him.

Because you chose him.

“I..I didn’t know I was the reason you guys broke up.” He confessed, a sorrowful look on his face. “M’sorry.”

“Forget about it, it was a long time ago.” You shrugged coldly, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.

"I can't believe you picked me." He whispers as you let out a sarcastic huff, lifting your head to look at him.

"And I can't believe you picked Tracy."

You fire back, turning on your heels to walk towards your motel room, heartbroken, tired of arguing with him, tired of wanting him, tired of loving him and just as you were about to close the door, Steve’s hand stops you from shutting it, from shutting him out, a hurt look in his eyes as he stares at you silently for a moment before speaking.

"You think I picked Tracy over you?" Steve asks with sadness and anger in his voice as you wipe your tears, resting your head on the side of the door.

“Steve, I told you what you wanted to know. Please just-”

“No! You can't actually think I'd pick her over you?” Steve quizzes again, brows knitted together, voice more stern than the last time he asked.

“Why not? You wouldn’t be the first one.” You reply, referring to your old High School ex boyfriend Matt and Steve scoffs bitterly, hurt at the comparison.

“I can’t believe you could even think that, after everything we’ve been through, you know me better than that!”

“No Steve, I thought I knew you better than that! I thought we were best friends and that you would never ever hurt me but then you went and slept with her!” You fume, shoving him backwards as he grabs your arms gently but sternly, holding you in place. Finally letting himself inside, closing the door with the back of his foot.

“I didn’t, I didn’t sleep with Tracy!” He growls back at you, frustration apparent in his voice as you sneer at him, well aware of the notches on his bedpost. "Oh please, how stupid do you think I am, Steve?"

"I'm telling you the truth!” He snaps, as you get in his face. "Cause you've been so good at that lately, huh Harrington?" You reply, a harsh tone in your voice, refusing to back down.

"Jesus Christ, will you just listen to me for one god damn minute? I haven’t had sex with her alright? I couldn't."

"And why is that Steve? Did you realise she's a fucking–"

"Because of you!” Steve interrupts loudly, silencing you. "Because I'm in love with you! Because for the past three years since that night you answered Henderson’s door, it’s only been you.” He finally confesses, cupping your face, begging you to believe him as you see the sincerity written all over his face.

“Honey, do you really think if I had known that you had feelings for me– if I thought that me and you being together was even a possibility, that I’d be seeing anybody else?” He questions, as you stare silently at him, heart beating out of your chest as he looks into your eyes. His lips ghosting over your own as you try to catch your breath.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" You manage to ask as he shakes his head and smiles.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He retorts before cupping your face again, taking a deep breath. "I tried to, so many times. But every time I got close to it, I just...got scared." He admits, as you stare at him confused.

"Scared of what?"

"Of you not feeling the same way, of ruining our friendship, of us not working out... I was just scared of losing you." He mutters, lowering his head as you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"That would never happen, Steve."

"But it almost did! And it's my fault because I decided to be an asshole and date someone else instead of just telling you that I love–" You cut him off, placing your lips on his to stop him from talking but before Steve could even fathom what was happening, you broke the kiss again, resting your forehead on his.

"I love you too, Steve." You whisper, as he pulls you in for another kiss.

There were no words left to say, you’d said them all.

Two hours later, after the concert, Robin and Eddie decided to head back to the motel, having long given up on their search for you and Steve at the venue.

“What if she’s killed him Eddie? What if they’re fighting so bad that none of us can hang out anymore? What if we have to meet up with them at different times because they can’t stand being around each other? What about the kids?” Robin panics as Eddie laughs, rolling his eyes as he knocks on your motel room door.

After a few seconds, when the door remains unanswered, Robin begins to walk towards her own room, anxiety getting the better of her as Eddie continues to wrap on the door resiliently.

“Will someone open the god damn door before Buckley files a missing persons report?” The metal head pleads for his own sanity as he finally hears shuffling on the other side of the door.

His eyes light up and a shit eating grin spreads across his face as Steve finally answers the door, shirtless flushed and struggling to zip up his Levi’s.

“Sorry Munson, we were just, uh…sleeping.” Steve lies even though he knows it’s pointless. He can hear you giggling under the covers as Eddie notices your underwear on the floor behind Steve.

“Atta boy Harrington, I knew you had it in you.” Eddie winks. “I’ll leave you lovebirds get back to sleep. Don’t snore too loud, we’re in the next room.” He subtly teases as Steve smirks, quickly closing the door to join you in bed again.

“Did I hear Steve? Are they ok?” Robin asks, as Eddie enters their room smiling.

“Oh yeah, they’re fine. By the way, you owe me fifty bucks Buckley.”

Taglist: @freezaz123 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @season4steve @param8re @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kathieycarrerarosshley @somethingvicked @l0ve-0f-my-life @hotelfohn @iheartjennaaa @whisperingwillowxox @chickenxdrum @eddiesguitarskills @mgchaser @mgmolina2000 @keerysfolklore

[fireflowersandblood]

Letters From Home - Preview

i promised a preview so. here it is. or maybe. a first chapter. maybe. i'm not promising anything.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x f!reader

WC: 800-ish words

TWs/Warnings: strong language, adult themes

Summary: Knitting for Victory has never been bigger and Tom gets a nice, cozy package from home.

“Hey, look at this, lads!”

Tom’s head snaps up. Immediately, his lips curl into a smirk. One of the men has jumped up on a box of supplies, holding a paper in his left hand. With his right, he’s trying to ward off the poor sod who has just lost his picture. Tom can’t see what it is with all the waving about, but he’s almost entirely sure it’s a lady, maybe even a lady with very little clothing. Little else gets the men this worked up.

“Bennett, for you.”

Before he can react, a paper wrapped package has been placed in his lap. It looks almost like a wrapped Christmas gift, with the string that ties it together, and is no bigger than the Encyclopedias that Lois collected when she was younger. 

“What’s this?” Tom glances down at the package and frowns at the handwriting. It’s nothing he recognizes and he can’t think of anyone who would want to send him something. Maybe his dad, but even that seems unlikely. 

“Red Cross”, his superior explains. “Knitted socks and the like. You’re not the only one.”

Tom gives an appreciative hum and glances back down on the box. The handwriting is neat, neater than anything he could manage, and spells out his full name. To his own surprise, he runs his fingers across the letters, before he takes care to open it.

The box is filled to the brim. He finds not one, but two, pairs of navy blue socks. A matching pullover and hat, as well as a small box of hard candies in all sorts of colors. It feels strange to hold something so normal in his hands, and it reminds him of when he was smaller. His mother used to have them, he remembers, in a small tin box by the radio. She’d always give him and Lois one each, and let them pick between the fruit shaped ones.

“You got socks”, someone next to him complains, and the sigh is nothing if not envious. It makes Tom feel just a tad superior, and he immediately kicks his boots off, tears the old socks from his feet, and pulls the new pair on with a self-satisfied grin. 

“I did”, he boasts. It’s all in good fun; now that the first few months have passed, there’s not as much fighting. Everyone has seen battle one too many times to spend any time asking for trouble, even Tom. “And they’re cozy.”

Everyone close enough to have heard laughs, and Tom takes the opportunity to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. He would hate to leave another tin of candies for the rats. 

Tucked away in a corner of the box, he finds a letter. Again, with a handwriting he doesn’t recognize. Not the same as on the wrapper around the box, but something a little smaller and cleaner. He tears the envelope and is met by a sweet, light scent. It takes a moment too long to realize it must be perfume. It reminds him of the one Lois wears, and the thought makes his nose scrunch up. To take his mind off the rather unpleasant thought, he unfolds the letter.

Dear soldier,

When I’m writing this, I have no idea who you are. I might never know who you are. You, however, will know a little something about me when you’ve read this letter.

I’m the person who has made you the socks and the sweater. I hope you’ll find them useful and warm. The rationing has made it difficult to get a hold of yarn and I decided to unwind an old sweater of my father’s. I know he would much rather it be used by you.

I know our Navy must need as much as our Army, but if you have no use for two pairs of socks, perhaps you can give the second pair to a friend. I know the endless walking that the Army does tears the garments rather quickly, but two pairs might have been too much. I couldn’t help myself, when they said that the packages will be delivered to people who rarely, if ever, receive mail. I wanted you to know that there are people who think of you back home. 

The candies are made in London and remind me of my childhood. I hope it brings back pleasant memories for you, as well. 

I don’t know if people actually spray their letters with perfume, but I read it in a book once, and I thought it might lift your spirits. Pass it along and let the boys sniff it like a pair of used knickers, for all I care. 

Write, if it would please you. I would love to hear if the clothes have come to use, and make sure that you’re safe. I will pray for your safe return and a quick end to the war. 

Most love.

Tom flips the letter to find a name and an address.

“Mate, you got paper and a pen?”

[heeliopheelia]

― 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆:

‪‪♥︎ forgetting/losing the wedding ring (f)

‪♥︎‬ safe word (m)(f)

‪‪♥︎‬ hyung line as one night stands (m)

‪‪♥︎‬ fucking in public (m)

𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒍𝒗𝒅

Open me up, tell me you like it Fuck me to death, love me until I love myself There's a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard

𖹭 pairing: fuckboy! sunghoon x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers au

Sunghoon looks at you, stunned. You can't really believe that, can you? Heart pounds in his chest and suddenly he feels the most distressed he's ever been in his entire life. He just doesn't know what to do.

"Are you really asking me that shit? You can't actually think that," he nearly scoffs, dying inside as he just realizes how terrible he is at expressing his feelings.

He hates himself for the pain he's causing you and in an attempt to fix that, he takes a step towards you. He's painfully humbled when you move backwards, avoiding his touch at all cost. Ignoring the hurt look on his face, you avert your gaze away from him.

"I do love you, YN."

Your blurry eyes scan the messy living room, desperately trying to focus on anything else before you start weeping like a goddamn child. Ironically, as your eyes land on the couch that the two of you have spent hours on last night, you feel the first tear drop down your cheek.

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅

The time is right, your perfume fills my head The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue And then I go and spoil it all By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

𖹭 pairing: jake x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, fluff, slight angst

"Please, please, don't slip up, Jaeyun," you nearly beg on your knees, earning an amused look from him. "If we fuck up now, it's over for me. I won't be able to show my face to my family in the nearest ten years in the future."

"So dramatic and for what!" He laughs and you shove him in the ribs. "Why are you doubting my acting skills? I've been pretending to like you for more than a decade. I should be getting an Oscar, on God."

You mockingly beam at his smiling face. "Ha, you're so funny! You should become a comedian instead."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea. With you as a friend I'd never run out of jokes material."

𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

You glare at him one last time before putting on a fake smile and dragging him with you in the direction of the chattering voices.

Never before has someone been more Unforgettable in every way And forevermore, that's how you'll stay

𖹭 pairing: heeseung x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: friends to enemies to lovers au, barista au, angst, fluff

"I thought you wanted it this way," Heeseung says, eyebrows raised in confusion. He looks down at the mug in his hand then places it on the counter next to you.

"And where did you get that idea from?" You huff with annoyance but nonetheless pull the coffee closer. The very familiar scent flows into your nostrils almost immediately and you try your best not to show the excitement on your face.

"Well, that's how you liked it five years ago," he replies smoothly and quirks his eyebrow up. "Judging by your expression, nothing changed since then."

You send him a mocking smile, a grimace almost really, and stand up from the stool to walk away from him as quickly as you can so that he doesn't notice the tips of your ears burning with red.

"A lot has changed since then," you point out and pass him without sparing him another look.

𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏

If you dance I'll dance And if you don't I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away

𖹭 pairing: sunghoon x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers au

His thumb strokes the soft skin on your knuckles mindlessly. He hasn't let go of your hand ever since you got off his back. He's worried — you know it. Like he's said many times before, he's no medic. Neither of you knows how to take care of your ankle properly but for now it seems to be growing better, stronger.

You often wonder of how Sunghoon was before the world collapsed. Was he more cheerful? Was he a free spirit? Was he carefree or reserved? Was he always this gloomy? You wish you could learn the answers but all of that is in past right now. You always take as much as you can from the peeks of Hoon's old personality whenever he's feeling playful or teases you, but that's all you can get. There's no point of reminiscing of the past that will never come back. You're both different people now, no matter how much you love to push this thought out of your mind.

"Are you happy?" You ask as you walk past the gas station.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

"You make me happy," he answers without missing a beat. You squeeze his hand comfortingly, hoping you can get a few more emotions out of him. "I don't know if I feel happy with how my life's turned out to be, but you're with me now, so that makes the entirety of it half better."

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

𖹭 pairing: stable boy! jay x princess! reader

𖹭 genre: royal au, forbidden love au, angst, fluff

You did that to him.

It's all because of you.

"Jay," you whisper with throat clenched so tight, it hurt to speak. You should've ran out of tears a long time ago but here you are again, a sobbing mess in front of his shaking body. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

He weakly raises his hand up and covers your palm with his. "I'm fine. It's gonna be fine."

You can't help but only cry harder, knowing well you're not the one who's supposed to be comforted at the moment. In the corner of your eyes you notice a small group of other servants running to the both of you. You spot Heeseung in the middle of them and you cry out in helplessness.

"Please, help him," you stumble out. Heeseung looks at you with wide eyes, visibly petrified with the sight in front of him. You see the shock painting on the other two maids' pale faces. You sob out desperately, "Please."

© heeliopheelia 2024. All rights reserved

[sumeru-academy]

Blurry, hazy dreams.

synopsis: eula and amber’s relationship is finally established.

character(s): eula, amber. (eulamber; NOT AN X READER, THIS IS A SPECIAL OCCASION)

warning(s): mention of intrusive thoughts

note(s): gift for mod kairi <3

we recently did a secret santa like event! this was my gift to my secret dodoco- kairi.

⎯⎯mod chewie 🪑

The concept of love was a foreign thing to Eula Lawrence. She lacked understanding in all of the fairy tales in which the princess was swept off her feet by her ‘prince charming’, or how the concept of soulmates worked. How can one be born to meet someone else? With a life surrounded by duty and her own parents' marriage based on nothing but matching rings and scribbles on paper– what was love to Eula Lawrence?

There were little things that Eula loved, there were even more things she absolutely loathed. She loathed the looks she would receive from the townspeople, she hated hearing her name under hushed whispers among housewives on the streets and her fellow knights. Her only safe space was the small cottage placed on the outskirts of springvale, where Amber resided. Each day, there was her warm face smiling up at her. Chin covered in barbeque sauce from the steak she was preparing, smelling of rich pine.

 The aura of home.

 The concept of love was not a foreign concept to Amber. She loved many things, little things that helped keep a grin on her face. Amber loved how she melded herself into Eula’s daily routine, how every evening they would share a meal together. Amber adored the bubbles the children would blow in the town's square near the blooming water fountain, and over excited babies when their smiles are so big they have to close their eyes to make room for it. 

Both of them loved each other, without the others knowing. Eula had too much pride in herself to admit that she could ever love someone, to want to protect someone outside of duty. Amber was too afraid of herself and the possibility of rejection, she’d lose her best friend and the only person she’d ever truly cared for in a romantic way.

Eula often dreamed of picnics in the sunny hills. Enjoying the kiss of the sun within Amber’s company, listening to the long grass dance to the tune of the wind. She’d forgotten all about the weight of her clan and her duty as the perfect knight, only allowed to bask in the loving moment with a warm heart. However, it was all just a dream. It all was just an illusion in her head. For a faint moment, she was allowed to be free of her family’s burden and allow herself to love the woman who saw her for who she truly was. With eyes unclouded by the automatic hate that came with it.

 “Do you think you’ll be in an arranged marriage one of these days?” Amber asked, the scenery around them filled with green and the dark clouds of the night sky. 

Starsnatch cliff, possibly the most beautiful scenery the land had to offer. Eula and Amber sat with their legs dangling over the edge, the intruding urge to jump. 

“No, my parents already tried to set me up with a large number of bachelors— they’ve had to have given up by now.” 

Amber felt a rock in her stomach, “Do you plan on marrying a man?”

“I have no interest in men.”

The outrider hummed in acknowledgement, and slowly rested her head on Eula’s shoulder. She could feel her entire body stiffen, her posture fixed while an arched back. 

“This is so nice,” Amber mumbled, she could smell the faint piney perfume that Eula must have sprayed onto herself— if she just naturally smelled like the deep forest. It took a few seconds in order for Eula to relax her shoulders and allow herself to make a comfortable pillow. Her chest fluttered with a foreign warmth. 

For the first time, Eula finally admitted to herself that she was in love with the most spectacular girl ever. 

Amber could hardly wait to wake up in the morning at this point, seeing Eula everyday even when it was just passing by in the halls or seeing her after hours being silent. Ever since the moment on Starsnatch cliff there was a willingness to get rid of that wall of pride that kept such an invisible distance from the two. 

There was the suffocating beating of her heart, it didn’t allow her to breathe. No matter how much Eula tried to push Amber away, ignoring her, or straight up insulting her to her face.She always came back. With that stupid smile on her stupid cute little face. There was a part of Amber that desperately didn’t want to fall in love, but even that didn’t seem to matter anymore. The warm washing tide of being with her was more than enough to dullen the intense fear. 

“Eula,” Amber spoke into the mirror of her home, “I am in love with you.”

The glass reflected back her flushed face and her quickened breathing. Watching her face contort in embarrassment, “I am in love with you.” 

Only her reflection stared back, with a red face and a scrunched nose. 

They found themselves laying in the grass. The blades create a bed in their shape, the parting gift of the breeze leaving chilled kisses on their skin. Eula found herself changing due to Amber’s influence, the sky looked a little more blue, the morning dew shined more than usual. 

Trapped in the infinite agonizing prism that is her mind, she claimed vengeance on fate for making her fall in love with someone who seemed so out of reach. The silence was comforting, with nothing but the songs of the wind.

 Eula could feel Amber’s hair ribbon tickle her cheek, but she didn’t move her head. Was this love? Was this moment loving? If Amber wasn’t here with her, then it wouldn’t be the same. The warm fluttering feeling, the vibrance of the blue sky, the fresh air… It would all be bleak without her.

Dear Celestia, let me be with her. Forever. 

 Please let her promise to never leave me.

It didn’t matter if they didn’t end up together at this point, all they wanted for one another was to be happy.

Eula came home feeling the best she’d ever felt her entire life. A skip in her step and a smile on her face. A storm was brewing in the dark skies above Mondstadt, trembling thunder heard from above. The foreign shake of lightning never failed to make the young Lawrence jump. She arrived home right before the downpour, the lanterns still lit indicating her parents and housemaids were still awake.

“Eula!” Her faceless father greeted her, his features filled with a blur of regret and the sour sight of melancholy, “We have great news.”

Out of respect, she stood still and allowed him to finish. She noticed a few housemaids peeking from behind the corner of a bookshelf near the main hallway. 

“There’s a Noble who is temporarily residing in Fontaine who’s willing to have you marry into his family! How amazing is that?”

“I’m not interested, not in men or leaving the country.”

Mother swiftly made her way into the conversation, “I’m afraid it’s out of your hands, the papers are already arranged and the engagement is already official.” 

There was a massive, infinite pit inside Eula’s stomach, her head felt like it was spinning. Leave Mondstadt? Leave Amber? There was no absolute way she’d be willing to go through something so trivial over a stranger, let alone a man who she already loathed. 

“You need to produce an heir for this family, your duty is to us as the Lawrence’s and then your fellow knights. As the future head of this family, you are emotional and undisciplined.” 

The unwavering lightning flashed throughout the mansion, illuminating the fear within Eula’s eyes. 

She blinked, “Please, I’ll marry and produce an heir from someone in Mondstadt. Don’t send me away,” there was a tremble in her voice, the boom of the thunder shaking her core.

“Don’t be dramatic, we’ve already got everything sorted out. Your father put in so much effort to keep this hidden, don’t let our efforts go to waste.”

That was the trigger, as quick as she could. Taking two steps back she rushed outside into the violent downpour and sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her. Adrenaline filled her aching veins, she felt the sweat stick to her clothes and felt the rain soak through the layers. Her bangs stuck to her eyelids, the water in her eyes got so unbearable she clenched her eyes shut and let her legs carry her to what was her true home. Letting energy coming from the depths of her core guide her to safety, the sound of her heels clicking on the stoney path was impossible to hear over the merciless monsoon like weather. 

“Amber, please help me.” Eula begged into the watery abyss.

Her legs never stopped moving until she reached the outskirts of Springvale, before she could even reach her knuckle up to knock on the wooden door it had swung open. A warm illuminating light washed over Eula, bathing in the welcoming warmth of her beloved outrider.

“Amber.” Eula mumbled, hardly audible over the blast of the rain, “Amber, I think I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, the rain seemed to stop. The chill didn’t sink into her skin like venom, everything felt so mellow. 

“I love you too, Eula Lawrence.”

Sinking to their knees, their lips met in a kiss colder than death, but it felt warmer than the most intense of flames.

Thank you, Celestia.

[the-timeless-founder]

I just discovered your blog and I really love all your OCs! ♥️ My favourite so far is Claire! I definitely need to know more about her and her relationship with Carla. 👀

Hhhh \;u;/ thank you, it makes me so happy to know you liked my babies <3 as for more Claire and Carla content <w< coming right up... sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be enjoyable and good enough.

She'll Accompany Me

The ballroom was filled with nobles from all across the land. The King was generous after all, or so had he said. The man who'd made her life misery ever since she'd obtained the body, and beauty, of a woman.

As a result, she trusted those words very little. Or not at all.

When told about the party, she had little reason to decline the offer. The worst that could happen would be another noblewoman commenting on her mother. The last one sure hadn't held back.

'A whore, like the mother' she'd called her. Too bad with that red stain of wine and the poor mix of it's scent with her perfume, she was the one looking like a whore on her way back home, shouting insults and further plummetting whatever dignity she once possessed.

The memory still brings a smile to her face. Young as she is, Lucrecia is anything but naive. She knows what people view her as, so instead of cowering in fear of them because of that, she'll use it to her advantage. Even wear it like armor.

Though there are moments when she wishes for a more refined status, and a less debated birth. Moments such as now - as the Crown Prince, Carla, and his brother Shin enter the ball.

Her eyes remained on the Princes - curious and sharp, even if she wasn't meant to be staring directly into Roylaty's eyes - and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a title like that. Or a loving mother. Or any claim to anything and anyone.

It must be nice, she thought, being somebody's someone.

Her eyes then wandered to where her 'caretaker' should be, chatting away with old generals and pretty ladies. Typical of him - disgusting in how vain and shallow he is. "Old fool. He's beyond all hopes of mercy or grace."

Though when she'd turned to look at the Crown Prince, she did not expect to find his gaze right back on her. For what felt like an eternity, she held his gaze - confused and somewhat flattered. That is, until she remembered that it's 'insolent' to gaze back at a Royal without direct permission.

Cursing her own wit, she looked away - right, down, anywhere else - and instead tried to busy herself with getting another glass of wine. In a quick sip, she had emptied her current glass - feeling a little tipsy as a result - and walked off to the nearby table.

Right before her hand could touch the cold solace of the crystal, another one - gloved with long, slender fingers - took a hold of it. Her narrowed eyes looked up to glare, but froze with surprise when they met those same golden irises from before. Some strands of long white hair, the ends of which were bloody red, fell over his shoulder pads, and there was no mistaking the striking resemblance to the Queen.

It was him. The Crown Prince.

Quickly, she lowered her gaze as she lowered her head, and then bent her knees - placing one foot back, using her hands to pull up the sides of her long gown's skirt. She spoke in a hushed tone now, as even in her frizzly state of mind, she knew that he wasn't to be messed with. "Your Highness."

He only nodded in mild acknowledgement, allowing her to stand back at her full height. "I don't suppose you've introduced yourself to me before. What is your name?"

Straight to the point. He didn't offer flattery, and hated it when it was offered to him. No beating around the bush, no pretending to be nice and different. A small smile formed on her lips with no intention of going away.

"My name is Lucrecia Etrama, Your Highness."

"Are you with your family, Lady Lucrecia?"

"My father is here with me. He is socializing with other Ladies now." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth as she spoke them. What father, what socializing- it was all similar to a cruel joke.

"I see." He didn't seem to buy that, but he probably didn't care enough to pry more. The glass was still in his hand, the liquid within untouched. Did he only reach for it so he'd have an excuse to speak with her?

No. That was ridiculous. He is the Prince, she is the bastard. If anything, she should be the one hunting an opportunity to speak to him. And it all angered her greatly. Why couldn't she look up to his face, keep his gaze, and talk to him the way she wanted to?

"Lucrecia, step back." He was the last thing she needed right now, but her eyes turned to him nonetheless, the look in them of a cold hatred. Her face all but spoke 'get lost', and this wasn't lost on the observant young man he'd been speaking to before.

"Ah, Your Highness!" He quickly bowed upon taking notice of the pale haired male, and he spared him even less of a nod than he had to her. "I apologize for any tactless behavior she might have shown! Recia is new to high society, she has much to learn." Blatant lie, the fakeness of it nauseating her. Just like everything else about him.

"There's no need. She behaved as she should have." Carla's voice didn't shake or waver, nor did he take long to speak back those words. He put the glass away then, not even sipping a little from it.

"Surely not!" Gosh, she wished he would just shut up now. "If she had, she wouldn't be so close to the center of the ballroom."

"She's here because I willed it. She'll accompany me for the first dance."

Her head almost snapped back in shock, and yet... Instead, she let her lips curl further as she gave her 'father' a quietly mocking smile, feigning sweet innocence. He didn't fall for it, but he couldn't do anything either. "A-ah, I see. Then excuse me for halting your path sir, I simply didn't-"

"You are excused." He didn't waste any time in between those words and reaching for Lucrecia's hand, leading her further into the center and away from that man, not even letting him finish his sentence. She didn't seem even mildly bothered, if anything she was pleased.

Serves him right, that creep deserves no respect.

Besides that, her slightly tipsy self, and the fact that she was dancing with the most beautiful man in the room, you could visibly see that Lucrecia was in her best mood and on her best beahvior.

The first minute passed silently, allowing for whispers to spring up about them. Some complimented their dance, others looked to find a fault to no avail, and some remarked on how scandalous it was that the Crown Prince chose to dance with the adopted daughter of a low ranking Viscount.

"Pay them no mind." He finally said, commanding all of Lucrecia's attention back to himself. "You should only focus on me."

"I am, Your Highness, you aren't someone who can be ignored." She didn't lie nor force the words out, under the light of the chandeliers, with small shadows cast over his face and his eyes illuminated, Carla looked breathtaking enough to break all of the women's hearts.

"That wasn't the tone you used with your father."

"Is the difference so apparent? I'm ashamed if so, I supposed I was a good actress."

His brow went up slightly at that, his eyes holding a hint of amusement in them. "You won't deny it?"

She smiled again, fully this time, with all hints of the facade washing from her face for barely a moment. And for that time, she let him see something in her. Something that would haunt him, even if he tried to forget.

"It's best to be sincere with clever men, Your Highness."

[thegraygardens]

24/1/3

Ah… I have not written in quite a while.

I’ve just been very down lately since my grandma’s passing, I’ve been trying to surround myself with things that make me happy and people that make me happy. I’ve been hating my job quite a lot and will write about my frustrations… I’ll write about how things are going, I have quite a bit to really fill in about.

I did manage to get the crybaby perfume, my biggest iso! I also found some k-12 melanie merch for cheap, some melanie jackets… uhh what else… also some decor like shelves and a smaller jewelry box, my current one is way too big..

Bleh.. my workplace has been so annoying, last Saturday they had us stay till 12:30 when we are supposed to get done at 12am. Some people apparently even stayed till 1am, some even were asked to come in at 11am on Sunday.. crazy stuff, right? We have a select amount of waves to do in a day and Saturday, right before we left, they gave us even more to do and a ridiculous amount of it. That day, I just stayed in the bathroom for those thirty minutes because it made me very irritated. As someone who always excels in my department, I’ve been so sick of the lazy people’s work ending up being my responsibility when at the end of the day I just want my money and to go home. A lot of people at my work are not the best at their job, lots of people just stand around and there is many double standards for others who are good at their job. So then! Sunday, it was a half day meaning 12pm to 6pm, by 3pm many departments already went home but legit we finished at 5:20-30pm, it’s New Year’s eve and they legit had us clean for the rest of the shift… when every other department was already gone. I really hate the cleaning because every Friday we show up after am/pm weekday shift, (I work weekends), the place is always a dumb and then we get the short end of the stick for the place being a dump… it’s very annoying. It feels like sometimes management just wants to make us mad.

But, for New Year’s, I did write out a lovely thank you post on my discord and private instagram for my friends and family.. I really wanted to spread love and positivity and was open about myself, which I feel like I have a hard time doing sometimes…

ahhh!!!! i have been watching lots of documentaries such as icebergs, mommy dead and dearest (about gypsy rose blancharde), and cool music! i love this song a lot

[rafescoke]

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: The second one I was hoping could be a Rafe x reader based on the song why’d you only call me when you’re high by arctic monkeys. Maybe something along the lines of rafe only calling and giving the reader attention when he wants to hook up. Finally, the reader gets tired of it their feelings known.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself thinking about a certain boy more than what they had agreed on

Warnings: Hella angst, mentions of sex, masterbating, substance, cursing, toxic relationship

A/N: I’ve been updating a new fic every single day and the amount of love you guys are returning is beyond amazing. I love you so much, thank you for all of your kind words <3

p.s, again, my request box is always open. drop in any ideas and i’ll present to you my best :)

p.p.s, does anyone know why i can’t tag some users? im going crazy.

“I was thinking. . .” Rafe trailed, drawing invisible circles against her soft skin. She hummed in response, her eyes closed, feeling so relaxed under the silk bedsheet wrapping around her body.

“We should do this often.”

“Is twice a day isn’t enough for you?” she asked, hiding her smile. She felt him shift, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him. She giggled lightly, feeling him behind her, but she was too tired to do anything.

“We should try doing it every minute,” he simply replied, smelling into her scent. She smelt like vanilla and caramel, just the way he likes it. “Is this the perfume I bought?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, feeling so peaceful she could sleep if he hadn’t pulled her closer against his hardening member. She groaned, trying to scoot forward by an inch, but was stopped by his fingers gripping her hips.

“I’m sore.”

“I know,” he replied casually, still brushing against her bottom. Before he could do anything else she turned, now facing him. She looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes and his soft lips. Her thumb grazed over his top lip, and Rafe swore he could fuck her anytime soon if she kept doing that.

“Are you not tired?” she asked, now cupping his face. He stared into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them before giving her a smile.

“No.”

“You’re mental,” she sighed, but she failed to contain her laugh after. She giggled, still cupping his face, and she has never felt so calm and relax before. Just them two, on top of a bed in some cheap motel, sometimes hearing the couple staying on top of them screaming at each other.

“Are you?” he continued, tilting his head into her hands. She smiled when he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from her. He loves it. He feels at peace.

(Y/N) sighed, loving yet also hating these kind of moments where she knew they would be acting like strangers after, in front of everyone else. She remembered the exact day after she had had sex with him for the first time, and how he acted so cold afterwards.

“Hey,” (Y/N) smiled, standing beside his form as he squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight to inspect his goal. He didn’t reply, swinging his golf club upwards and hit the golf ball. (Y/N) watched as it flew and landed near the goal, and expressed a smile.

“You’re good.”

“Huh?” he looked up to her, as if just noticed her existence. (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart, especially when he had just whispered so many love words into her ear the night before.

“I said you’re good.”

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered, already making his way back to where his friends were. Clearly not satisfied, she followed him suit, watching as his friends cheered for him. Rafe groaned even harder, and turned to look at her before they got too close to his friends.

“What are you fucking doing here?” he scolded, his eyes staring at a space beside her. (Y/N) raised a brow, being caught off guard, but she tried to play it cool.

“I’m a member of this country club too, Rafe,” she replied, scoffing. “You’re an asshole, do you know that? Are we not going to talk about last ni-”

“Shut up,” he grunted, looking backwards to check on his friends before pulling her a few distance away. “Look, I was on drugs last night. That was not me. Let it go, okay?”

(Y/N) has never experienced that kind of disrespect, and she swore she hated Rafe Cameron so bad that when she got home, she cried against her pillows until the night sky greeted her. 

She thought about the many other guys who tried to be with her, but she had pushed them all away for a certain rich boy living 6 houses away from her. The fact that her parents are good friends with Ward and Rose Cameron doesn’t make it any easier, not when she is forced to see him every single Saturday night for ‘barbecue night’.

“What are you thinking?” he suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed, suddenly scooting away from him. He watched as she turned away, but he didn’t put much thoughts into it.

“I can still smell the weed from you,” she suddenly said, and Rafe let out a laugh. He rubbed his eyes, hating the fact that they are going to repeat the same topic they have fought countless of times before, especially after sex and they had both came down from the high.

“Don’t start, (Y/N), fuck,” he sighed, covering his face with his large hands. He watched as she scooted further, wrapping the covers around her body. “Can you please just lay right next to me?”

“I want to sleep,” she replied, and bit her lips before she could express any tears. Rafe sighed, groaning, and sat up straight, resting on the edge of the bed before reaching for his jeans discarded on the corner of the room.

“I’m leaving,” he said, and (Y/N) heard the metal bar of his belt clanking against his jeans button. “Since you wanna act like a bitch again.”

“You’re an asshole,” she replied, still not looking at him. A tear rolled down her cheeks before she could stop herself, and she quickly wiped them away.

“Whatever,” he said, and she heard the door slammed shut. She cursed, unable to stop her tears now that she was alone. The banter between the husband and wife from the room above filled the silence as (Y/N) sobbed against the pillow and she thought about how it resembled her and Rafe’s relationship so much.

He would call her when he’s under the influence, whispering sweet-nothings through the phone, saying how much he’s missing her and longing for her forehead kisses. The fight they had before the phone call will immediately evaporate into thin air, and (Y/N) will make her way to wherever Rafe is. Sometimes they’ll do it in the car in a secluded alley or sometimes in the cheap motel at Chapel Hill. 

But then it was the moments after their brief meeting that had her all moody and depress throughout the week; how he would ignore her, pretending not to see her and forcing himself to say ‘hi’ during their family barbecue.

(Y/N) never thought of herself as someone who’s prone to being in a sneaky relationship, but if that what it takes to be with Rafe Cameron, she was willing to be in one.

It had been a week since the incidence, and Rafe hadn’t call her to meet or anything of the sort. (Y/N) frowned when she thought of this, because the longest fight they had before only lasted for 2 days before he rang her up, asking to meet up. 

(Y/N) shook her head, sipping on her martini before setting it on the side of the swimming pool. She dived into the water, trying to get the heat from the scorching sun off of her, and resurfaced seconds after, her wet hair falling down her shoulders.

“(Y/N), where’s dad?” Topper appeared, squatting in front of her as she took another sip on the martini. Her eyes fell to the figure behind her brother, and she almost choked on the liquid.

“Um, I don’t know,” (Y/N) replied, staring at Rafe Cameron as he took out his phone to check on his messages, ignoring her like always. She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that there were no new texts and he was just trying to act like she wasn’t there. She dived into the water again and swam to the other side, away from Rafe and his negative energy.

If Rafe knew she was going to be in the swimming pool, he would have made an excuse to Topper, perhaps saying how he has to take Wheezie to the clinic for an appointment. (Y/N) was almost never home every time he hang out with Topper, so he thought he was safe. But there she was; in the most tempting bikini, swimming and constantly sipping on a martini.

Rafe sat right next to Topper, watching her back from the corners of his eyes as she gazed at the view in front of her. She was laying on her arms, lazily humming to a rock song Rafe plays every time he’s driving.

He jolted when Topper touched his hand. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Topper laughed, “I said, do you wanna eat?”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and thinking about good she looked in that bikini. He made a mental note to guess the brand to purchase more of that sort for her. 

“Okay, I’m going in to get myself some food. Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Topper asked, sitting on the edge of the seat. Rafe nodded, his eyes still closed, and heard him walking towards the sliding door into the kitchen.

“Why are you ignoring me?” 

Rafe opened his eyes, and to his satisfaction, the girl with the (H/C) locks stared at him with her face rested against her arms. His breath hitched, seeing how beautiful she was with the chlorine water dripping from her face, down to her neck, continuing to her che-

“God, you’re a fucking asshole,” she suddenly said, and Rafe had to shook his head from the involuntary thought that appeared in his mind. He groaned, watching as she dived in the water again, and almost catching a glimpse of her bottom. He smiled.

“Are you still a bitch?” he asked when she resurfaced, crossing his arms. “Because if you are, I don’t feel like fucking you right here and right now.”

(Y/N) halted her movements as she tried her best not to look at the smirking boy, and instead staring into the swimming pool as if there was something interesting in it. Rafe laughed, knowing exactly the impact of his words towards her, and thought about wanting to have a little more fun with her.

“I’m asking, baby,” he said softly, and her eyes landed on his. “Are you still a bitch?”

“I brought cookies!” Topper suddenly yelled, appearing from the sliding door and walking towards them with a bright smile. Rafe cursed, laying his back against the seat again and pretending to close his eyes while (Y/N) dived underwater, trying to hide her red face. He was glad when Topper handed him a cookie, talking about wanting to surf tomorrow - so oblivious towards the sexual tension between him and his own twin.

“What do you think?” Topper asked, munching on the cookies all the while trying to see Rafe’s reaction. Rafe nodded, muttering his agreement, but under his sunglasses, he was watching (Y/N) and she too, was watching him.

“Can I have a cookie, Tops?” (Y/N) suddenly interrupted, and without looking at her, Topper gave her a thumbs up sign. (Y/N) smiled, pulling herself up from the pool and Rafe almost had a heart attack from the sight of her curves donning the bikini and the water dripping off of her.

She walked towards them, hair swept to her left shoulder, and Rafe’s gaze followed her fingers as she grabbed a cookie and immediately putting it in her mouth. He watched as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet taste, all the while sitting under the glowing sun that highlighted her features even more.

He could feel himself getting harder.

“Well,” (Y/N) suddenly said, and Rafe had realized he was too busy looking at her to realize that she was already conversing with Topper. “I’ll go. Is Rafe coming too?” 

Both of the siblings’ attention fell towards him, and Rafe found himself clearing his throat before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, where are we?”

“Man, are you sure you’re okay?” Topper asked, removing his sunglasses to look at him clearly. “Do you need water?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Rafe quickly added, “Can I, um, go up to your room? I think I need a nap.”

“Yeah, okay,” Topper replied, not thinking much of it. They had been spending so much time under the sun during the summer, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them got sick. “I’ll go upstairs in a second.”

He muttered a thanks, quickly making his way to the top of the house, where Topper stayed. He groaned, feeling himself getting harder, and hating the fact that she was most probably liking the way he was reacting. 

He locked the door of the bathroom he has been using since the first day he became friends with Topper, watching himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes while he tried to picture her in his mind, his fingers trying their best to untie the knot of the band of his swimming shorts.

He held himself in the palm of his hands as he pictured her again, this time with her under him. He started sliding his palm over his hardened member, his other hand safely placed on the sink for balance. He thought of the way she’ll bounce on him when she rides him, and bit his lips before he could let out any sounds.

Fuck. 

He hated how easy she’ll make him hard and how she has him wrapped around her finger. It was true how they would only do the unholy thing when he was under the influence or they were both under the influence, but he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling in his stomach every time he saw her.

“Fuck,” he expressed, his grip on the sink tightening. His movements became faster as he tried to picture her mouth and around him, and felt his end coming. He left a string of curses as he finally released himself, watching the shot dripping off the sides of the sink. He grunted, having to do more work, and grabbed himself the white tissues before wiping his mess.

. . .

“Hey.”

“Hey, Rafe,” (Y/N) said, trying to maintain her normal tone. She bit her lips at the sound of his heavy breathing, missing his voice and also his handsome face. She longed to have his face in her hands again, staring at each other’s eyes and kissing each other’s lips right after.

“Can you come over?” he asked, his voice slurring. “No, I mean, can I pick you up?” The sound of laughter and booming music could be heard behind him, giving out his location. (Y/N) sighed, knowing the exact request behind the words, and looked at her wall to check on the time.

“It’s 12 a.m., my mom won’t allow me to go out.”

“Sneak out, then,” Rafe replied, and he said something to his friends before focusing back on her. “Please? I missed you.”

(Y/N) sighed, knowing exactly her problem.

This.

“Okay,” she replied, leaning over her mattress to close her laptop now that she had new plans for the night. “What time are you picking me up?”

“I can’t drive right now,” he said, suddenly realizing how sloshed he was. “Can you come and pick me up, please?”

She sighed again, but she had missed him so much. Him and his touches. His and his words.

Him.

“Okay, send me your location, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

(Y/N) thought about how she couldn’t do it anymore. Not when she has spent most of her life trying to make him love her. He had been friends with her brother since forever, but yet he never seemed to settle on her. She heard about the amount of girls he dated and how she tried to become like them, but after a while, she grew bored of it. She was tired of running after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

Until the night at the party, where they had been smoking and doing coke and god knows what else. (Y/N) had watched him from the corners of her eyes, liking how attractive he looked under the party lights. He was in a black shirt, his hair messily parted, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips.

“Thornton, do you know how perfect your smile is?” he asked, leaning towards her. (Y/N) giggled, her back against the wall as she stared into his eyes. 

“You’re mistaking me for my brother, Rafe?” she asked, with that smile again. Rafe licked his lips, looking down to hers before leaning closer to whisper into her ear.

“I’ve got to confess, (Y/N),” he whispered, sending shivers down to her spine. “You’re the hottest sibling.”

When she woke up the next day, laying right next to Rafe Cameron, she had to pinch herself a few times to make sure that she was living in reality, but when she tried to approach him that evening on the golf course, it was like nothing happened that night.

It scarred her until he rang her up again, six days after. 

“Rafe,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning over to open the passenger’s door from her seat, seeing how drunk he was. Rafe giggled, getting himself in before shutting the door and staring at her. He leaned towards her and placed a sloppy kiss against her cheeks, down to her neck and stopped directly before her chest.

“Just park in the back,” he ordered, placing his palm on the upper side of her thigh, too close to her heat. She bit her lips as she turned her steering wheel, entering the back alley of the club. Soon after he had texted her his location, she sneaked out through her brother’s porch and stole his car, driving straight towards Rafe.

She turned the ignition off and looked at him, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, groaning when he missed one button. He tried to reach for her, but she pushed his hand away, her face expressing into anger.

“Don’t pull this shit again, fuck,” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back against the seat and covering his face with his hands. (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a gold ring, and noticed how it looked so similar to hers hanging around her neck.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, filling the silence. Rafe let out a shrill laugh, still closing his eyes.

“Still a bitch, I guess.”

“This is the problem, Rafe!” she groaned, causing Rafe to look at her fully in the face when he noticed her increasing volume. “What are we?”

“What do you want to hear?” he simply said, staring at her with empty eyes. He licked his lips, “No, seriously. Tell me the answer, and I’ll say it.”

How cold could he be?

“Rafe, do you see how you’re treating me?” she asked, and she could feel her tears threatening to fall. “Do you realize the difference between sober Rafe and intoxicated Rafe?”

Of course he knew. He just chose to ignore it.

“I can’t do this right now,” Rafe said, putting his hands up in defeat. “Can we just fuck, get over whatever fight we’re having right now, and live our best lives the next day? Can we do that?”

He turned to look at her, and noticed her glassy eyes. He sighed, trying to cup her face, but she flinched at his touch.

“You make me feel like a whore,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “One second you love me, the next second you’re spitting on me.”

He just had the worst night of his life; having a fight with Ward about his business, bumping onto the pogues, catching Sarah and John B. . . and now this?

“You think too much,” he said, but his heartbeat was quickening. He stole a glance at her and watched as she stared at him with empty eyes. “I’m sober now. You know what, (Y/N)? You’re right. I can’t even look at you when I’m not under the influence.”

He turned to open the door, getting out while buttoning his shirt back, not wanting to look at her. He couldn’t stand it, he knew he’ll be too broken if he sees her cry over him. He didn’t know what to do; he panicked, never preparing for this exact moment where he knew she will ask about the state of their relationship.

He watched as she sped away from the alley, her engine roaring against the silence of that particular Friday night, where his day had been nothing but miserable. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to contain his feelings, but before he knew it, he had kicked on the empty beer can on the side of the road, watching its movement as it hit the opposite wall and fell into the trash can.

He laughed at the strange occurrence, his tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and made his way back to the club.

If there’s one thing he’s so sure about himself; Rafe Cameron hates himself more than anyone else in the world.

-

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[starlordsandrockets]

Thick as Thieves: Part II

pairing: Peter Parker x thief!Reader: 18+

Word Count: 6.6k

summary: You were Peter Parker’s assignment. However, he now found himself checking in on you outside of Fury’s orders. You were under Peter’s skin and he would not rest until you returned to Shield.

Part I | Part II

a/n: I hope you enjoy! I would love some feedback on this series since I have been planning it for almost a year now lol. Also, I’m still working through the requests that are in my inbox. Thanks for being patient with me!

You stared at your reflection in your bathroom’s large, framed mirror. Bringing your hands to your cheeks, you slapped your skin. Why the hell were you thinking about Peter? And why did you sneak into his apartment building and leave that postcard?

At the time, you thought it would only get under his skin, but now, you knew the truth. You used that as an excuse to seek him out. You spent days in order to locate his apartment, days filling your thoughts with him. It was disgusting.

You finished applying your skincare routine on instinct, mind occupied by him and how much you hated yourself for it. Before you met Peter, you felt alone. No one else ever came close to knowing the consequences of having so much responsibility at such a young age, and how it can ruin someone.

But you left. You left that all behind you and you would not let Peter drag you back in. You were laying low, keeping Shield and Peter off your ass and you ruined that all by sending him that stupid postcard.

You wanted to scream. Your eyes found one of your many perfume bottles that sat on your vanity. You watched as your manicured fingers fell around the bottle, throwing it to the floor, listening to the glass shatter, “fuck,” You laughed, the room filling with the sickening smell of roses.

You felt as if you were going insane, or you were in a fit of hormonal rage. Was it about to be that time of the month? 

Exiting the bathroom, you checked the time. You had planned on hitting an auction after dinner, but you felt as if you needed to blow off steam. Peter would not leave your mind, occupying it ever since he bent you over that damn sink.

Maybe you should blow off steam. You could have a ‘me day’, and you could start by getting yourself off so maybe you would think of Peter less.

Walking over to your side table, you pulled open the drawer as if it was an arsenal. You stared into the abyss of sex toys and lube, trying to make up your mind. Reaching in, you grabbed a vibrator, turning it on. No go. Tossing it back in with a groan, you searched for another.

Throwing your back against your silk sheets, you slipped off your leggings. Your fingertips fell to your black, lace underwear, making you pause. Your mind filled with the memory of Peter ripping through the similar fabric of your red lace. Suddenly, the memory halted. Peter had stuffed the torn fabric into his pocket. You sat up slightly. Did he still have it?

“Fucker,” You groaned, bringing a closed fist down against your skull, no longer wishing for Peter to fill your thoughts. You switched on your vibrator, hoping the hum would drown your thoughts. Placing it against the fabric of your underwear, a sharp inhale passed through your parted lips, “fffuck,” Your voice trembled.

***

Peter knew he was falling right into your trap, but he did not care. He found himself, in suit, swinging to what he hoped was your apartment. Using Shield’s database in his suit, he searched for your address using any street cameras that tracked your face entering and exiting the same building.

The building of expensive apartments was tall, an old, ornate fire escape scaling the side. Landing on the eleventh floor’s fire escape, Peter peered through the window of what he thought was your apartment. The window was obscured by thin, white curtains, making your room sit behind a hazy white veil. Luckily, your apartment occupied the building’s corner, giving your apartment multiple windows for Peter to spy through. He could not spot you through the first window, he could only imagine how much each item of your apartment could have cost you. Peter moved to the next window, no longer having a view of your lounge but your bedroom.

And there you laid, back flat and arched as you pressed the vibrator against your underwear. Peter ducked down out of embarrassment. He was invading your privacy, but he raised his gaze back through your window. The eyes of his suit narrowed as he heard your moans hum through the glass.

***

Your fingers made their way around the fabric of your underwear, pushing it aside. Thoughts of your night with Peter filled your head, “Shit,” You moaned, the vibrator coming in direct contact with you. You were close, as you absentmindedly thought about Peter, “P-Peter,” You whined, “Pete-“ You began to moan louder, however it was cut short as you caught a flash of red through the crack of your bathroom door. Throwing your vibrator to the side, you sat up on the large plush mattress. You scrambled, hands finding the small pistol that you kept under your bed. You pointed it towards the door, arms locked in front of you.

“What the hell?” Peter questioned. Throwing up his hands as he entered your room, no longer wearing his suit, “I thought you knew it was me- You said my name,” Peter rambled nervously, staring down the gun, “Or- Wait- Were you-“

“I knew it was you,” You played along, voice trembling, “That’s all- that’s it, I knew- I called you out here- I knew,”

“Right,” Peter almost smiled as he slowly approached you, “You gonna?” He questioned, pointing to your rogue vibrator.

Looking down, you lowered your arms slightly, allowing Peter to shoot a web towards you. Your wrists bond together by the homemade webfluid, “Fuck you,”

“You wish,” Peter replied, “You were moaning my name enough,”

“Fuck off,” You spat, “Or I’ll shoot you,” You lied through your teeth. You never shot a gun in your life. Attempting to raise your arms, your hands fumbled, no longer able to properly hold the pistol, “fuck,” You mumbled, realizing you once again allowed Peter to get the upper hand. He was only proving his point. What if you did get yourself killed?

Peter stood before you now, but you would not meet his gaze, “Give me the gun,” He instructed, outstretching his hand. You surprisingly placed the pistol in his palm, eyes fixed on your bound wrists. Walking over to your side table, Peter opened it, assuming that is where you kept it hidden. However, he only came face to face with an arsenal of sex toys.

“Not there-” You stuttered, but it was too late, his eyes darted around the shallow drawer. Turning your head, you studied the back of Peter’s head, the tips of his ears grew red, “Peter close it, I swear to god,” Your eyes fell to the buzzing vibrator, it moved around slightly on your silk sheets. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched Peter move towards you, “What are you even doing here?” You questioned, moving your wrists, you attempted to break away from the bonded webfluid, “How did you even get in?”

“Bathroom window,” Peter spoke, hearing you let out a nasaled laugh, “What?”

“He Came In Through The Bathroom Window,” You spoke, a confused look on Peter’s face, “The Beatles,” You watched Peter shrug his shoulders in front of you, “You don’t know the fucking Beatles?”

“I know The Beatles,” Peter argued back.

“Sure,” Your tone drew out, long and mocking. You studied him, he was faltering, searching his mind for a comeback, “Spider got your tongue?” You questioned, as if you pitied him.

Suddenly, Peter grabbed your bound wrists. Bringing your arms above your head, he pinned you down against your large mattress. He hovered over you now, eyes studying you as he fought off his hunger for you.

“What- what are you doing?” You questioned. Your voice cracked, but you could barely hear it over your racing heartbeat.

“Interrupting something from the looks of it,” Peter spoke, eyes falling on the buzzing vibrator, “and just when you were about to finish-”

“Shut the fuck up,” You argued, “I don’t know what-”

“I should have just kept watching from the window,” Peter admitted, watching your eyes signal an ounce of fear.

How long was he watching you? How did you not notice? How? Well, probably because you were too busy reminiscing on how he ripped you out of your lace underwear. That is when it hit you, a smile curling your lips, “So, did you come to give me back my panties?” You watched Peter stiffen slightly, “You know. The red lace ones you ripped me out of and then stuffed in your pocket,” You felt his hold weaken, so you made a break for it.

You barely moved under him, however, Peter tightened his grip again, “This-this is exactly what I’m saying. Do you know what I could do to you- What someone could do to you if they wanted?”

“I thought you would have gotten over that,” You spoke, “Since you have my panties to jerk off to now-” Your words deadened as Peter’s free hand covered your mouth. His palm was sweaty as he pressed you into the mattress.

Releasing your arms, he reached out, retrieving the vibrator. Turning it up to the highest setting he watched you squirm under him, making him almost chuckle, “Then stop being a brat,” Peter degraded, bringing the vibrator to your clothed clit. He felt you moan against his palm, his skin tickling from your vibration, “fuck,” He groaned under his breath. He wanted to hear you.

You felt the mattress shift as Peter adjusted his position on the large bed. Uncovering your mouth and reaching back out for your wrists. You could not see him, eyes rolled back from the overstimulating pleasure. Your moans bubbled past your lips, whether you wanted them to or not, “f-fuck,”

“Yeah?” Peter questioned, “You were thinking about me. Weren’t you?”

“F-fuck- you,” You attempted to speak, your voice trembling as Peter angled the wand slightly, “mm,” You opened your eyes, slightly, your vision filling with Peter hovering above you. His eyes were constantly moving, taking in every inch of your bliss.

“I want to hear you say it,” Peter spoke, putting more pressure on your clit. You squirmed, attempting to inch away from the vibrator.

“Say- say what?” You stuttered, “mm fuck,” The setting was overwhelming you. You wanted to scream.

“My name,” Peter said, “I want you to finish what you started. When you thought you were all alone,”

“You- fuck- fucking wish,” You interrupted.

“I’m here now,” Peter spoke, “You don’t even have to try to think of me. You have me-” He loosened his hold on your wrists as he felt himself begin to fall for you all over again, “You don’t have to pretend,”

“You’re fucked,” You spoke, about not only Peter’s words but him falling apart. You felt Peter pull the fabric of your underwear to the side, making you whimper at the thought of the vibrator directly on your clit.

“Come on, Y/N,” Peter coaxed, inching the vibrating wand towards you, “Want to hear you say it, baby,”

There it was again, that pet name. Peter was long gone, lost in you completely and he did not care.

You braced yourself, waiting for Peter to press the wand’s head against you, however, you heard him turn off the wand. You picked up your head, eyes locking with him, “What the fuck?” Was he just teasing you?

Peter almost laughed as he set the vibrator to the side, taking in the sight of your darkened silk sheets, “You’re making a mess,” Placing his hands on your thighs, he swung your legs over his shoulders. Crawling further onto the bed, he pushed you up the sheets, making your cropped shirt hike up your body, exposing your breasts slightly.

You struggled underneath him, unable to pull down the gathered fabric, “I hate you,” You spoke, as he stared back at you with a stupid smile on his equally stupid face, “What are you going to do? Fuck me again?” Your tone sounded as if the idea was the worst thing to cross your mind, but part of you was begging for it.

“Nope,” Peter spoke, “Wanna eat you out,” He admitted with a slight blush on his face. As Peter looked down at you he could not help but want to kiss you, but he knew better. You would probably threaten to kill him. But if you were the last thing he saw, that would not be so bad. So, maybe he would take that chance.

“Y-You-“ You started to stutter before your words were muffled by Peter’s lips. You whimpered against him as he bent your body, legs still over his shoulders. Out of all the guys you slept with, and there were a few in order to close deals, none of them ever went down on you. Why would they? Men only wanted to use you, so why would Peter ever be the exception?

Peter studied you for a moment, eyes falling to the exposed skin of your breasts. Reaching out, he ran his fingers against your breasts before pulling the fabric of your shirt back down. He watched as you almost laughed, air pushing out through your nostrils, “What?”

“What is your problem?” You question his morals, “And here I thought you’d be tearing me out of my clothes just like my panties,”

“Maybe I should just shut you up instead,” Peter teased, snaking down your body until his head fell between your legs, “maybe later,” He spoke, breath heating your skin, “Wanna hear you say my name first,”

“Shut up,” You spoke as you wrapped your fingers around the metal of your bed frame. You heard him laugh silently as his curled lips neared your exposed clit, placing a wet kiss on your aroused skin. Your angry expression was replaced by brows furrowed in pleasure.

“You like that?” Peter questioned before flattening his tongue along your folds, trailing up towards your clit, “So sweet,”

“S-Shut up,” You stuttered, brain unable to come up with a better comeback. Your knuckles whitened as your hold on your bed frame tightened. It was as if you were hanging on for dear life, as if you were trying not to fall. Your eyes were screwed shut, trying to not get lost in the feeling of Peter’s skilled tongue. You felt as Peter reached out, fingers snaking up your arm. Taking hold of you, he pulled your hands off of the cool metal and placed your bonded hands against his head.

Peter felt as your hands pulled away from him. He wanted nothing more than for your fingers to find their way into his brown locks.

You wanted to touch him, every part of him, but if you did it was over. Peter’s actions paused as you internally fought your need for him, “Come on sweetheart,” Peter coaxed, waiting for your fingers to tangle in his soft hair. You felt his locks brush against your fingertips before you gave into him, entangling your hands in his hair, “There you go,” His words praised you, yet his tone was almost mocking. Peter took in the feeling of your fingers in his hair, hands impatient and needy. Once he deemed you had enough teasing, he continued, losing himself once again. Moans passed through your lips as Peter began to focus on your clit, or as focused as he could be with you pulling on his hair. He let out a satisfied hum, “That good baby?” Opening his eyes, he raised his gaze, watching you nod your head. Slowly, Peter reached out, placing the tip of his middle finger at your entrance. Entering you, he felt your body tense as a shaking moan passed through your lips. Peter chuckled slightly, returning his tongue to your clit, working you.

“F-Fuck, Peter,” You stuttered, voice coming out in waves. You felt as Peter added another digit to your pleasure, his index finger entering you, “MM-”

“Yeah?” Peter questioned, “How’s that?” His voice vibrated off of you, making a shock travel up your spine, “You like that? Tell me,”

“Y-Yes,” You spoke quietly as Peter’s fingers curled, “Fuck-” You moaned as his fingers found your g spot.

“There?” Peter questioned, lips curling against your sensitive skin, “Hm?” He coaxed.

“Yes- there- fuck,” Your hands left his hair as your back arched. That is when Peter pushed his luck. Reaching out, he chased your bound hands, free hand slipping into your own. He intertwined his fingers with your own and god forbid, you felt as if they fit perfectly, “shit,”

“What was that?” Peter questioned, his fingers wrapping around your hand tightly while his other fingers put pressure on your g spot. You were falling apart in his hold, mind unable to process just exactly what Peter was doing to you, let alone answer his question, “Am I making you feel good?” He sat back, no longer stimulating you orally. However, he was doing so verbally, to the point where you were a stuttering mess. He watched you nod in response, “Who’s making you feel good?” He watched as your gaze fell to the side, no wanting to answer his question.

You raise your arms, bringing your wrist across your face. Peter’s fingers left yours, taking hold of your wrist. Pulling your hands away from your face, he placed his thumb on your bottom lip.

“Who,” Peter spoke again, “Tell me who’s making you feel good,” Slipping his thumb into your mouth, he hooks it on your cheek, directing your gaze to him.

Peter’s gaze was dominant, yet somehow still loving. And god you hated it. You hated him, “You,” You spoke, “and I hate it,” You watched as Peter threw his head back slightly, a chuckle passing through his teeth. He thought for a moment that he had gotten through to you.

The real you.

“Then hurry up and cum for me,” Peter spoke, “Since you hate it so much,” He picked up his pace, putting the right amount of pressure, bringing you close to the edge. Peter watched as your eyes rolled back, thumb still in your mouth, “Are you going to cum?”

“Mhm,” You hummed around his finger. You chased your high, you wanted to cum just as much as you wanted Peter to leave your bed. Hell, you wanted him out of your life. You were completely satisfied with your life up until Fury sent Peter your way. Now you had no idea what you wanted. Were you ever truly satisfied? Every man you slept with before never treated you like this. Did you want this?

“Want you to say my name,” Peter spoke, watching your eyes snap forward, locking with his brown ones, “Want to hear you say my name when you cum,” Peter studied you, “like you were about to before I came in here,”

You hated him, “F-Fuck-” You stuttered. It would just be easier to give into him, maybe then, he would leave you alone, “Peter,” You moaned as he removed his thumb from your lips, pushing up your shirt.

Peter hovered over you, taking your nipple between his lips. He peppered your chest in wet, carless kisses. Moving to your moaning lips, he muffled the noises that passed through them as he helped your ride out your orgasm.

***

You snapped awake, eyes falling to your side table. You picked up your phone, unplugging it. Was that all a dream? The time read 7am and your lock screen screamed about the twelve missed calls you had from an unknown number. Did you miss a scheduled sale? Calling the number back, it only rang twice before the call was answered, “Hello?” You questioned.

“If it isn’t my favorite little Agent,” Nick’s voice rang on the opposite end. You felt as if you were shot through the chest. Placing a hand on your skin, you checked for a physical attack, yet it was only your nerves.

“What the fuck,” You groaned, “How did you get my number?”

“You never escaped, not really,” Nick spoke, “I’ve had my eye on you ever since you left,”

“Yeah, the only one you have,” You spat, hearing him laugh slightly, “I just want to be left alone so call your dog back,”

“I never sent him,” He explained, “That’s the problem. We need to talk Y/N,”

***

You adjusted your sunglasses that sat underneath the bandana you tied around your hair. You could not believe you agreed to get brunch with Nick Fury, but god did you just want Peter gone. You found the high end restaurant, finding Fury sat at one of the outside tables.

“You look good Y/N,” Fury spoke as the waitress showed you to your table. You were wearing a black pantsuit, “But I’m afraid if you’re trying to be undercover, I’ve already found you,”

“I’d rather have you find me than the Spider,” You spoke, watching Fury look towards you, “Yeah,” You smiled, “I know. Figured that out all on my own. I used my training from the good old days,” You took a sip of water that sat on the table, “The worst years of my life-”

“You’re a distraction,” Fury spoke, watching you set down the glass. Reaching out, he pulled off your sunglasses. You opened your mouth to argue but decided against it as he started again, “I sent him to get through to you. But you’re messing with him,”

“It’s fun,” You spoke, a serious look on your face.

“I pulled Peter from your case as soon as you stopped your little petty thefts. After the first case,” Fury grew silent as the waitress approached the table.

“Are you two ready?” She smiled.

“Of course, dad’s buying,” You smiled back, “Right dad?”

“Of course,” Fury played along, “I haven’t seen this girl in such a long time,” He watched the waitress place a hand over her chest.

“I’m a workaholic,” You joked, making the woman laugh, “So could I have a glass of chardonnay and an eggs benedict,” You looked at Fury, “You know what, why not bring the bottle. Right dad?”

“Right,” He replied, “and I’ll have a salad,” Fury studied you as you played your role until the waitress departed, “You still got it,”

“It’s all I know,” You spoke, “Kind of hard to drop the act,” Every passing second in Fury’s presence was reminding you exactly why you left.

“Is that all it is with him? An act?” Fury questioned.

“Of course,” You answered, quite quickly.

Fury reclined a bit in the restaurant’s chair, “Then you’re good at faking it,” He watched as you choked on your water.

“You’re fucking disgusting. How-” You stuttered.

“You should have known I wouldn’t just send a kid off on a mission without either eyes or ears on the place,” Fury studied you, “Especially with you,”

“I shouldn’t have even agreed to this-” You began to stand up, but locked eyes with the waitress as she brought the bottle of white wine to the table, “fuck,” You groaned, “Thank you so much,” You smiled. The two of you were silent as the woman poured wine into both of your glasses.

“So it’s all an act?” Fury questioned, watching you nod from behind your full glass, “From what I’ve heard, and from what Peter had relayed, he started getting through to you,”

You smiled slightly. Did he get through to you? Maybe a little.

“Sounds just like him,” You spoke, setting down the glass, “He’s fun to mess with. I’m using everything you taught me on him you know,” You mocked, “Look at how convinced he is. He’s like a puppy,”

“He won’t let you go,” Fury spoke, “You know that? He’s convinced that he can bring you back to Shield,”

“I’m never fucking going back,” You shot back, “I hate Shield, I hate you and god I fucking hate him,” Bringing the glass back to your lips, you finished the contents, “I want him out of my life and it’s your fault. You literally can’t leave me the fuck alone,”

“As long as he knows you’re out there he’s not going to stop trying,” Fury spoke.

You laughed, pouring yourself another glass, “Yeah,” Swirling the glass you brought it back to your lips, “and what? I fake my death, leave all this behind me and you and Peter will finally leave me alone,” You caught Fury���s gaze, “You’re fucked,”

“As long as you’re alive, he won’t let it go,” He added, “And you want him to leave you alone, don't you?”

You caught the waitress’s glance as she approached you, food in hand, “Boy troubles,” You smiled, “You think he’d learn to stay out of my business. I’m twenty two,”

“Dads always worry, even if they don’t show it,” The waitress smiled, your gaze fixed on Fury. You. Flashed her a smile, realizing she had been studying you.

“Right,” You replied, “Wow,” You drew out, “this looks amazing,” Changing the subject, your eyes fell on the plate in front of you.

“Enjoy,” The woman smiled, leaving your table.

You laughed, cutting into your food, “What’s so funny?” Fury questioned, “The fact that you’re wasting your potential? You still got it, hell you’re better at this stuff than I remember,”

“What’s funny is that my ‘dad’ is telling me to fake kill myself,” You replied, sticking a forkful of food into your mouth, “and I’m good because I taught myself this shit. Okay? Not you. Maybe that’s why Peter failed the mission, because your training sucks,”

“Maybe,” Fury spoke, “I’d offer you the position when you come back,” He watched as you laughed, fork stabbing your eggs.

You watched as the egg yolk ran across your plate, “So what’s the plan? Fake bullets, a fake stabbing? Poison?”

“You’re serious?” Fury questioned, “You’d rather die than return to Shield?”

“Fake die,” You corrected, “Like you said, he won’t leave me alone,”

***

Unzipping your purse you studied the usb that sat inside it, “We have eyes and ears on the place,” Fury spoke through your earpiece, “Not to mention that everyone on this mission is Shield,”

“Yeah well I’m just hoping this isn’t an elaborate plan to actually kill me,” You checked your reflection in the room’s large glass windows. You wore mostly black, a large coat hiding your figure.

“Have more faith in me Y/N,” Fury somewhat joked, knowing you did not hold an ounce of trust in him anymore, “Let’s just hope you’re good at playing dead,”

There was a light knock on the door, “Miss?” There was a tall man who stood in the partially opened doorway.

“Forman,” You spoke, watching the undercover Shield member approach you. He was dressed the part, a perfect match for someone who was looking to buy a usb of Stark weapon blueprints, “Where’s the money?” You questioned, seeing that he was empty handed.

“Look at you, going off script,” Fury rang through your head.

“Is this a wired transaction?” You questioned, “I’m putting my life on the line here. These are Stark weapons,” You spoke, quite loud, wondering if Fury had called Peter to the scene, “So I want to see the transaction,”

“Miss Forman, be smart and hand over the usb first,” The man spoke. He took out his phone, pressing his fingertip on the screen.

“You better be in your banking app,” You replied, you put on a nervous smile, “I-I know people who could make your life a living hell if you cross me-”

You found yourself staring down the barrel of a pistol, “You’re in way over your head little girl, you know that? What someone like me could do to someone like you,”

That claim made your heart feel as if it dropped. Peter’s voice rang through your head and suddenly, in this moment, you realized he was right. Sure, this was all an act, you were not in any actual danger but you could be. Fury could cross you and part of you was terrified at that thought.

That is when you went off script, running past the man and escaping through the opened door, “What the hell are you doing?” Fury called through your ear.

“Fuck, fuck,” You swore to yourself. What were you doing? The building’s alarm sounded, hurting your ears, “I fucked up- I fucked up,” You rambled, feeling tears sting your eyes. If you made your way out would you be able to act like this agreement never happened? Peter could continue to annoy you and bring you closer to joining him back at Shield. Eventually, maybe, he would get to you. Maybe.

“Freeze,” You picked up your head, coming face to face with a group of men. They all greeted you with guns pointed towards you, “Hand it over,” as soon as one of the men was about to fire a blank at you, you felt yourself being scooped up by a flash of red and blue.

“What did I tell you?” Peter spoke, swinging you across the room.

“T-Took you long enough,” You stuttered, your voice shook. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, taking you both off guard.

You heard the men’s rushed footsteps as they ran after you and Peter. Some shots were fired for dramatic effect but they still shook you at your core, “Hey- hey,” Peter must have felt you jump in his hold, “I got you- I’m going to get you out of here,”

You fought yourself, knowing that you needed to do this. You needed to complete the mission. You needed to get away from Peter and the effect you had on him. There was no way you could ever relay the feelings he had for you. The best thing you could do in return was play dead.

With the next fired blank, you jolted, acting as if you had been hit. That is when Peter stopped swinging, “Hey- Y/N,” Finding the nearest room, he entered it, “Shit,” You tried your best to feel heavy in his hold. Hell, this was a new one for you so you hoped you were being convincing, “Y/N,” Peter set you down on the cold, tiled ground. He tore open your large coat as he attempted to find a bullet wound. Before he could get a good look at you, the door burst open, “Shit,” He was so worried about you, he forgot to web the door shut, “Stay-stay here. Okay?” Running towards the two men that stood in the doorway, he webbed both sides of the door frame, using it to rush them. He was airborne, coming towards them with a powerful kick, “You get the hell away from her,”

Peter had disappeared, fighting off the undercover Shield agents. Rising to your feet, you brought your finger to your earpiece, “What’s the plan here?”

“Well, since you decided to run,” Fury spoke, “On my signal leave the room and do what we discussed earlier,”

“Right,” You almost laughed, “Maybe I’ll try being an actress after all this,”

“Smash the ear piece before you leave the room,” Fury instructed.

Peter held a man before him by the collar, “You’re not getting your damn flashdrive,” He spoke, tossing him back, webbing him to the wall. Looking around, he wondered if he could go retrieve you from the room.

“You,” You spoke, now in the room, “You stopped them?”

“I told you to wait-” Peter spoke but his words were cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Turning, he locked eyes with a man who stood down the long hallway, as you dropped to your knees.

Hiding underneath your large coat was an already faked entrance wound. At the time you cursed out Fury for not telling you to wear one of your least expensive shirts. It was now covered in ‘fake’ blood. You say that in finger quotes because you would not put it past Fury to use real blood. You just did not question where he got it from.

The man ran, having to reroute to a new exit point since you decided to go off script earlier, “Y/N,” Your name left Peter’s lips in a scream as it passed through his mask. He ran towards you, not wanting to move you, but he could not bear to leave you face down to die, “Hey-” He removed his hand from your back, seeing the red reflect off his suited hand, “Hey, hey,” He brought his face closer to yours, “Y/N,”

“You- you were right huh,” You laughed, attempting your best dying voice. You winced, furrowing your brows for the dramatics, “I couldn’t handle myself,”

“This is my fault,” He spoke, “I should have tried harder, got here sooner,” Peter felt his anger fester, “I’m going to kill him,”

“What?” You questioned, “No,” He looked down at you, as you dropped the act for a second. You tried to move, coughing and allowing yourself to go limp somehow, “I don’t- don’t want that,” You hoped to persuade him, as if it was your dying wish, “Just let me go,”

You watched as he shook his head violently, “I’m going to kill him,” He spoke, “I can’t let him get away with this,” Peter felt the words crawl up his throat, if he were to tell you, now was the last time, “I love you,” He watched as a small smile curled the corners of your lips, “He’s dead, I’m not letting him live,” He was seeing red, feeling you grow heavier in his hold.

“Don’t,” You shook your head, “Go find someone better,” You allowed your claim to be interrupted by staggering breaths. Your eyelids grew heavy as you pulled your own plug, attempting to play dead. That is when you felt your heart sink, when you heard Peter’s cries.

He shook you, begging you to wake up and god did you want to. You felt as he pressed his lips to your skin, peppering you in kisses as he muttered, “Y/N, come on- wake up,”

After a few moments, he set you down and you could tell what he was about to do next. You heard him run off and you laid there, mentally praying for the man he was off to kill.

Minutes passed as you heard police sirens outside the tall building. Your phone began to ring as you sat up. You began to cry, barely able to read Fury’s name on the screen, “Thanks to you, Peter’s on his way to kill Fiering- the police arrived- if you get him arrested-”

“Where is he?” You questioned, heading to the elevator. You heard Fury begin to question you, “Because you win- okay? Where the fuck is he?”

***

Peter sat, perched on top of the tall building, scanning his suit’s database for the man’s face. All search attempts were coming back unsuccessful, turning, he punched the vent that stuck up from the roof. He watched as the metal crumbled as tears clouded his eyes, “Fuck,” Peter almost cried. Turning, he caught a running figure that he could not identify through his tears. Swinging towards it, he followed them to a side alley.

At this point, the night cloaked them both in darkness as Peter gained on the figure, “Hey,” He shouted, watching them pick up speed. It had to be the man. Right? If it was not, why was he running?

Why were you running? You were trying to stop Peter and now he was chasing after you to kill you. You were not scared of dying, but more scared of telling Peter the truth. That is when you felt him hit you, your side slamming into the alley’s brick wall. He had knocked the air out of your lungs, no words were able to pass through your lips. He picked you up as if it was nothing, slamming your back against the bricks. Just as he was about to send a powerful blow to your face, he identified you under the alley’s single source of light.

Peter’s hold on you crumbled, dropping you to the ground, “You- you,” He stuttered, mind searching for a logical answer. You were dead. Was this a dream? A joke? A shapeshifter?

“I-” You coughed, your entire body in pain, “Remind me to not get you mad again,” You spoke, not bothering to address the situation.

“What the hell, Y/N?” He questioned, dropping to his knees in front of you. He stared at you from behind the suit, bringing his hands to your cheeks. He removed one, bringing it to his mask, pulling it off his head.

You studied him, taking him in, in the dim light. His hair was curled slightly by the sweat that glistened his soft skin. Your eyes moved from freckle to freckle as he did the same to you, studying you. However for Peter, his gaze was worried.

He studied the bruises on your face, a small cut sat on your right brow, from where he threw you into the wall. The blood, this time, was your own, “I’m,” You spoke, “Look- I-” You stuttered.

“Are you okay?” Peter questioned, bringing his fingers to your cut. He watched as a look of shock crossed your face.

“Yeah,” You spoke, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Peter’s face was inches from your own as he studied your injury, which could have been worse if he had not realized it was you who he was chasing.

“I’m sorry,” Peter spoke, tears stinging his eyes.

“You?” You questioned, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” He replied quickly, holding your face in his hands once again, “I thought I lost you, and then I lost myself- God I was so ready to,” He broke off his claim, realizing he justified taking someone’s life.

“Peter, this is my fault,” You spoke, watching him shake his head.

“No, I should have been there to protect you,” Peter corrected, “Mr. Fury called me and I should have just already been there. I should have kept watching out for you,”

“Peter, I set this whole thing up with Fury,” You admitted, “He told me- Peter you’d be so much better off without me,” You laughed out of pity for yourself, “and if you thought I was dead- I just wanted to be out of your life so you could stop worrying about me,” Peter stared at you in silence, taking in your words, “Part of me wants to go back there,” You laughed again, “but god I’d hate myself even more than I already do,”

“Come back,” Peter spoke, “If you were actually dead- Y/N that would have been so much worse than me being obsessed with you,” He watched as you smiled up at him, “What?”

“Obsessed?” You grinned, “Or?” Drawing out your question you reminisced his earlier confession, “Did you only confess because I was dying?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter spoke, embarrassed. He let go of your smiling cheeks, “You know what, I take it back,” He joked.

“The confession? Or that you actually want me dead?” You joked with a sly smile. You stared up at him with a feeling of relief. His eyes were soft as a genuine smile sat on his pretty face. Your eyes were fixed on his smile and he must have noticed. He brought his lips to yours, hand cupping your face as he felt you smile.

“Come back to Shield with me?” He questioned, feeling you nod in response. He rested his forehead on your own.

“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” You questioned, “I’ll let you drag me back to Shield in the morning,” You watched as he smiled in response.

“Sure,” Peter spoke before planting another kiss on your lips.

[sinner-as-saint]

Purpose.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU 

Requested. 

Run-through: You have an argument with your boyfriend and you call him out on all of his shit. You’re sassy and rude, and the mob boss can only tolerate so much disobedience. So when you turn around to leave, he doesn’t take it very well. And given you’ve been running your mouth all this time, he shuts you up and shows that sassy little mouth its true purpose... 

Themes: FILTH, smut, daddy kink, dirty talk, oral sex

You and Bucky have been bickering all day. 

Even at the party; anything he would say or do would simply annoy you. This all started this morning due to his grumpy mood which then rubbed off on you and now, by the time you both made it home - you were straight up arguing over random stuff

“You’re being all crazy. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about.” 

“Shut up.”

And it would simmer down for a few minutes, but then you’d be at it again. Arguing over useless stuff for no reason; both of you frustrated and running low on patience. 

“Baby, calm down.” 

“Don’t ask me to calm down, you started this with your shitty mood.” 

You walked into the living room, pissed off and wanting to get away from Bucky but he had been following you around the house ever since you two got home.

“Will you at least tell me what I can do to make it better? Even though I don’t know what I did and you refuse to tell me?” 

“Leave me alone, Bucky.” You went over to the mini bar and tried pouring yourself a drink but Bucky interrupted you even then. 

“No.” His voice was firm and deep. “What the hell is going on right now-,” 

You cut him off by rolling your eyes and moving away from him to grab a glass. You heard him sigh and swear under his breath. Something along the lines of ‘bitch’. And that set you off. 

“What the fuck did you just call me?” 

He sighed again, “Nothing.” He tried walking away but you called out after him. 

“You wanna know who’s a bitch? You. Because you couldn’t take your eyes off someone else’s girl tonight.” You didn’t mean to say that, but your anger got the best of you. You had gone over this earlier and he had made it clear that no, he wasn’t staring at another woman all night long. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, sending you a glare which should’ve shut you up but didn’t. “Watch your words, and your tone.” 

You let out a dry chuckle. “Why? So you can just be a manwhore but I can’t raise my voice? Screw you!” You turned around to leave the living room, the drink you were making yourself long forgotten. 

You heard him call out for you. “Don’t you dare walk away from me! Come back here and we’ll fix this. Right now!” He sounded irritated. But you didn’t stop. 

You walked upstairs and packed yourself an overnight bag. Tonight, it seems you’d be spending back at your apartment instead of at your boyfriend’s lavish mansion. You didn’t care, you needed to be away from him. His very presence was pissing you off. 

You grabbed your bag and made it downstairs in the span of a few minutes. He was by the bar, finishing off the drink you started making earlier. He turned his head sharply once he saw you. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

You kept walking, ignoring him; knowing he hated it so much when you did that. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, louder. 

You stopped for a brief moment, turned to send him a dirty look. “Away from you.” 

He clenched his jaw and crossed the living room to get to you but you had already begun walking towards the front door by the time he reached you. He ran to you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you into his strong chest. You got a whiff of his perfume and tried your hardest not to give in. His cologne had always been a weakness of yours. 

“You’ve been running your mouth all day, and all evening. And now you think you can just leave?” He sounded pissed too, his patience running low. 

You managed to get your arm out of his grip, he let you, thinking you would apologize or walk back inside so you two could fix this but instead you glared at him and turned around to walk away again. 

“Oh you think you can just-,” he couldn’t believe the audacity you suddenly had. “Come back here!” He grabbed you by your hand again, snatched the travel bag out of it and threw the bag somewhere before dragging you back to the living room. 

He had to carry you for the last few steps because you were screaming right at his face. 

“Enough!” he grabbed you gently by the jaw and stared into your eyes with his deep blue eyes making you shiver. “You’ve been such a brat, I can’t believe I’ve been able to tolerate your behavior for so long.” He pulled your face closer to his, and you immediately stopped resisting. “Get on your knees.” 

You didn’t do so immediately, which made him raise an eyebrow at you; intrigued by your unusual disobedience. “Oh? So you’re gonna resist me now?” He leaned in, trailing the tip of his cold nose across your cheek. You shivered again, closing your eyes instinctively. “You’ve been such a bad girl today.” He whispered in your ear. “Been running that sassy little mouth…” he spoke as his thumb traced the outline of your lips, definitely smudging your lipstick. 

You swallowed audibly, anticipating what would follow. 

He pulled away and smirked. “That’s all you need right now I believe. You just need daddy to help you out of that sour mood, don’t you babygirl?” His voice was already calming you down, but you refused to give in just yet. Even though you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him for long. 

He chuckled. “Think you can just be mad at daddy for no reason? How cute…” he tightened his grip on your jaw. “Get on your knees, now. That sassy mouth of yours has been getting me on my nerves all day. Think it’s about time I teach you a little about it’s true purpose, huh?” 

You didn’t say anything. He smirked. “On your knees, now.” 

You quickly sank down to your knees in front of him. You were grateful for the fluffy carpet you knelt on, because who knows how long he’s gonna keep you on your knees. He spoke up again. “Now come on, we both know what else that pretty little mouth is good at other than being sassy. Show me.” 

Your hands hurried to undo his belt, unzip his pants and lower his underwear to free his erected cock. The mere sight of his thick cock had you whining with need, but this wasn’t about you. This was about proving him right. 

You wrapped your hands around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip. Bucky slid his hand into your hair and grabbed a fistful of it; tugging on it gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. “There we go, take it. Take all of me. This is all you’re good for, isn’t it baby?” he threw his head back and let out a strained moan. “All you’re good for is sucking daddy’s cock…” 

You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked majestic. He moaned as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, fucking it like he owned it. 

“This is all you needed, isn’t it you little brat?” He taunted, grunting and tugging on your hair. He bucked his hips forward into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock as you gagged just a little. You looked so pretty on your knees, he thought, taking him perfectly.

You repeated your actions again and again, hollowing your cheeks. The growls and moans which escaped his lips made you squirm and it only added to the dampness which was forming in your underwear. And his dirty, dirty mouth… 

“Keep going babygirl, come on… show me what that mouth is good for.” He quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you; eager to chase his orgasm.

“That’s right, it’s only good for sucking daddy’s big cock, isn’t it?” He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum.

“You’re such a good little slut for daddy, aren’t you? See how easy it is when you shut up and behave, and do as I say?” He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip very lazily.

The moment you slowed down a little, you earned yourself a gentle smack on your cheek. It made you squeal in surprise. “Did I ask you to slow down, kitten? No I didn’t, keep going.” He growled when you sped up again. 

“Look at you squirming,” he chuckled darkly. “You just need daddy to fill you up, don’t you? You’re desperate for daddy to just fuck you, aren’t you baby?” 

His words made you whine, and you discreetly tried to slide your hand down through the slit of your dress and touch yourself but before you could, he caught you. “Put your hands where I can fucking see them!” he hissed and tugged on your hair, making your moan with your mouth full of his cock. You immediately removed your hand from under your dress and placed them on your lap instead. “Don’t you dare touch yourself. Bad kittens don’t get to play with themselves while sucking daddy’s cock, you understand me?”

You nodded. Well then… 

You knew you were walking on thin ice here, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. He was already ‘punishing’ you, what else would he do? 

He caught the mischief in your eyes as you took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. He looked down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

“Don’t tease me, kitten,” he growled, looking down at you with his intense blue eyes. 

 Those words were all it took for you to take him back into your mouth. You felt the veins of his firm cock ramming in and out of your mouth. You felt his muscles tightened under your touch, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. So you quickened your pace, and he moaned over and over again as he reached his high.

With one final, rough push into your mouth, you felt him come undone. His cum trickled down your throat and you swallowed him obediently. Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth and bent down to look at you from up close. Your lips were swollen, and spit ran down your chin along with his cum. You were panting; an overall mess. 

You were much calmer than before, he could tell by the look in your eyes. “Not so bratty anymore, are you?” He asked, standing up straight and held his hand out for you to take. “Up. Come on.” 

You took his hand and stood up, your knees felt weak but luckily he held you tight against him. “I don’t like punishing you, babygirl. You know that, right?” 

You nodded at his words. 

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, softly. “But do you agree that you’ve been bratty for no reason today?” 

You nodded again. 

He smirked. “Well then, you deserve a proper lesson, don’t you kitten? Go wait for me upstairs,” he leaned in just enough to make your heart race, but not kissing you yet. “I want you naked on the bed when I get there, you hear me?” 

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.” 

He smiled, kissing you on the side of your mouth; making you whine in need.

“Good girl.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

kaleidoscope, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Don’t let him back in. Don’t kiss him. Don’t hold him. And above all, don’t say his name. If you don’t say his name, then it’s like he’s never here. If you don’t say his name, then he’s just a body to use and fuck, not someone who broke your heart and is coming back to piece it together.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; angst; hate / make-up sex (fem reader, too much crying and it gets everywhere; nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - exes to lovers

–

it's an emotional kaleidoscope when i face you >> now playing – forget me too by machine gun kelly ft. halsey

You hated this part right here, because one minute you were shoving him and yelling at him, and telling him he was stupid and dumb and shouldn't be here, but the next moment he grabbed your head and crashed his lips to yours, holding your face, telling you he loved you, and you kept crying and saying that was stupid, so stupid, because you should never take friendship personal, and he had all this shit going on, so it was a terrible idea, a terrible idea to kiss him back, a terrible idea to let him grab your sleep shirt and yank it up and over your head.

"We broke up because you didn't want to commit," you hissed, his hands on your bra-covered breasts now, squeezing roughly, breathing hard on your chin. "Because you didn't want this."

"I know."

His right hand, covered in tattoos, cupping your face, brushing your tears away, replacing them with his because he was crying too, crying for what? Crying because he told you that he didn't want this anymore? Stupid. Kissing you between tears, black hair brushing your face, wild and intense and you were pushing his jacket off, dumping it to the floor, revealing his tattooed right arm and bare left one, wearing only a black t-shirt underneath.

"God, you're so fucking stupid," you muttered, pressing your chest against his, knowing you were just as stupid, just as stupid for grasping his shirt and pulling him to you, kissing him over and over, wet, messy kisses with too many tears. "Some bitch turn you down or what?"

"Nobody turns me down." he muttered, kissing you back, hands on your waist, digging his fingers into your back and scratching harshly, leaving burning lines of lust. "I was making out with my date and it was fine until I thought of you kissing someone else and then it was suddenly shit and I hated it and I didn't want it anymore."

You wanted kisses full of tears? you wondered, but you couldn't say anything, because his hand travelled up and unhooked your bra, pulling it off and tangling it in your arms, not caring, grabbing your tits and squeezing them, pinching your nipples just the way you liked. You moaned into his mouth and flung your bra aside. It tumbled to the floor, just like everything else.

You didn't want to say his name, because it would be like he was here, and you didn't want to think he was here, leaning down and making out with your tits, licking them all over, taking your nipples in his mouth and flicking them with his tongue, telling you how good they tasted, how sexy they were. He hurt you, hurt you with his stupid excuses, and this wasn't fair to you, it wasn't fair to him, but you were doing it anyway, because it wasn't him, he wasn't here, as long as you didn't say his name.

He came back up to your face, kissing you again, tasting like your nipples, breathing your name, telling you he loved you.

"Shut the fuck up. You're an asshole."

You tried to sound rough, annoyed, and you were, but your voice was cracking, because this wasn't fair, wasn't fair that he smelled like someone else's perfume and was dumping it all on you, mixing it with his cologne and the smell of your nipples, kissing you over and over.

“I hate you so fucking much,” you muttered wetly, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and yanking it up and over his head, ruining his hair even more, accidentally smacking him in the chin, but fuck it, he deserved it, it deserved it all, wasting your time and making you think you had love before denouncing it for what it was and taking it all away, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you to him, onto his jean-covered crotch, his lap that someone else had sat in hours before, multiple people maybe. Who the fuck knew? His mouth, so good on yours, his teeth biting your lips, wiping your tears away with the back of his hand as if that would do anything.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted against your lips, taking your exhales, taking your hopeless breath, taking it all away, the nights you spent alone, staring at pictures of him and you, wondering if it was real or not.

“You liar,” you breathed, rolling your body into his, the familiar heat and hardness, making you moan as your sensitive nipples touched his skin, touched his skin like some other bitch must have touched him in between your tears, in between your pretend make-believe that you were okay, your make believe you lived by day, saying he can’t hurt you, not you, the impervious, the confident, the glass house that shattered the second the bullet of his pleading gaze pierced you at your doorstep. His hands sliding up your back, scratching you again, leaving his marks on you, hot pain shaking through your nerves and you holding onto his shoulders, body asking for more, lips on his some more, your pleas in his mouth, don’t stop, fuck, don’t you fucking stop.

His cheek pressed against yours, soaking you with salt and tears. “I’m not a liar.”

“You didn’t say you weren’t an asshole.”

He left one hand splayed on your stinging back as the other slipping down your side, snaking between your legs, the soaked heat burning you and him, igniting you and him, pushing his moan into your throat as he slipped his fingers underneath your panties, running his nails over your slippery folds. The worst, the worst that you wanted it, one hand in his black hair, bunching it up and yanking on it, the other on his back, leaving scalding lines of lust, swearing to yourself to ignore him, just fuck him and destroy him, fuck him and rip up his lies and ruin his life, don’t believe him when he tells you he loves you while plunging his fingers into you, heated kisses and building the pace you loved most.

“I didn’t think I would ever want anybody,” he gasped, dragging you with him, deeper into your apartment and your life, putting himself in places he didn’t belong. “But I want you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” you gritted out, pulling harder on his hair and making him groan, pressing his straining erection against your thigh.

“I don’t fucking know.”

Pain rippling through his voice, breathing harder, forcefully shoving two fingers into the deepest parts of you, pleasure flowing through you, trying to lower his head to suck on your nipples again, but you didn’t let him, firm grip on his hair, and he moaned, denied, kissing you instead, desperation and pace increasing, faster, faster, driving you to the edge of the world and throwing you over, throwing your head back and spitting curses, so wet it was disgustingly loud and embarrassing, you hated it, hated that you liked  the feeling of him pulling his fingers out to gasp and lick his fingers off, savoring your taste, before kissing your again, the taste of your pussy and nipples mixing together with his addictive saliva and his whispers of love.

“I’ll be good to you this time, I promise,” he murmured, nudging you with his nose, tongue tracing your lips, reminding you how good it was, reminding you of long nights flat on your back and his head between your legs, coaxing the pleasure out, so he could drink it all and walk away from you.

“That’s a load of shit,” you scowled, pushing his head down by his hair, his tongue extending, swiping down your torso licking every centimeter of skin you let him have access to, nails digging into your back and all the way down your ass, dragging your panties down, down.

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say his name and he won’t be here.

Dark brown orbs looked up on you, his knees colliding with the floor, shirtless, hard muscles all tense, tattoos on his right arm gleaming with sweat, still wearing his dark jeans, regret poisoning his handsome features, black hair a mess in your hands and all over his face, pink tongue hanging out, begging for your taste, but your grip on his hair preventing him from getting any closer.

It wasn’t fair.

He whined in his throat, fingernails tearing up your skin, his marks like tattoos, permanently on your skin because you missed him every second of every day even though he ruined everything.

“You’re the worst, Jungkook.”

You rolled your hips into his face, colliding into his teeth, and his eyes rolled back, hungry tongue lapping it all up, warm and soft like his embrace when he held you all those nights before he fucked it all up. He drank you like he was parched, dying, and you didn’t know if it was a lie or the truth but you didn’t care anymore.

Just didn’t care whatever the fuck Jeon Jungkook was.

His eyes snapped back to watch your face and you bucked your hips into his mouth, throwing one leg over his shoulder, squeezing his jaw, brows furrowed, keeping your orgasm at bay, making him work for it, making him ache for it, his fingers sinking into your ass, tongue swiping all over, inside your folds, funneling your nectar into his throat before latching onto your clit, soft and fast and tight, furrowing his own brows, knowing you were denying him, but why did you care, he did this to himself.

“I hate you,” you gasped, tears falling again, staring down at him, clutching his black hair, everything shattering, riding his face, tipping your head back so you weren’t looking at him anymore, gravity forcing the tears back, back, riding the high instead, fuck the sadness and turn into your drug, your drug between your legs, breath constricting in your throat as you came, filling his mouth and splattering on his chin.

Jungkook moaned your name and shook his head in between your legs to smear your juices all over his face, tugging on his own hair in your hand.

“I love you,” he panted, licking you all over, his saliva dripping down your thighs with your orgasm.

“I don’t want to hear the shit you tell everyone else,” you scoffed, releasing his hair and throwing him back, unhooking your leg and backing up, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand and flicking it aside, breathing hard, head and chest tight, not thinking straight, high on pleasure and low on life, naked and guarded, still backing up as Jungkook got to his feet, pushing his hair back from his messy face, using his own shirt to clean it off before throwing it back down on your floor, your marks all over him and his marks all over your body and your surroundings. You wished you could find him ugly with bloodshot eyes and ruined hair, his scratched-up torso shuddering and struggling for breath, guilt weakening his strong features.

You stared each other down, heavy exhale matching heavy exhale.

Jungkook said your name, streaked with pain.

“Say my name again.” Coming closer to you, voice cracking. “Even if it’s with the words, ‘I hate you, Jungkook.’ I just want to hear you say my name.”

Remembering all those days and all those nights, throwing your phone aside as he ignored your call for the hundredth time, screaming alone at your walls, wishing these same walls would cave in and take you with them, wishing you weren’t going out to drink way too much and pray you didn’t wake up anymore, wishing it wasn’t Jeon Jungkook who did this to you.

Was it him?

Or was it you, loving to hard, knowing it was going to crash and burn, knowing that this love had been a cigarette that had an ending, a burn that would turn to ash and float away, two people who weren’t ready for anything more than that?

You turned away, unable to look at him anymore, throwing yourself on your bed, the crying place, the place of lust, the place of long nights alone, looking up at the ceiling, wishing the walls would cave in and crush you so you didn’t have to wake up alone.

He was on you in an instant, hands on your hands, pushing you onto your back, kissing you again, getting on top of you, looking for love and you gave it to him, yanking your hands out and grabbing his face, hungry, desperate, messed-up kisses, your taste on his lips, his apologies getting stifled by your tongue forcing its way into his mouth, fucking him mercilessly, turning his words into moans, hooking your legs around his waist and pressing your wetness all over his pants, all over his jeans, replacing that cheap perfume and his own cologne, covering him with you.

“You think all your whores will want you when they know you’re back here with me?” you snarled, grabbing him by the shoulders and rolling him onto his back, pinning him down with violent kisses and brutal scratches down his chest.

“Probably,” he gasped, following your mouth when you pulled back, his words in your throat. “They want me no matter what.”

You clicked your tongue, yanking at his jeans, undoing them sloppily.

“Just like how I love you no matter what.”

You pulled them down, curling your lip in distaste at his response, seeing the wet spot in the front of his underwear, his pre-cum soaked through. You dragged those down too, his hard cock popping up, reaching down to his back jeans pocket, pulling out the condom he always kept there. Your gaze flickered up, narrowing your eyes.

“You’re so stupid, Jungkook.”

He was breathing hard, chest torn up by your rage, red lines on tan skin.

“Yeah, I am.”

You ripped the condom open and took it out, throwing the wrapper aside, rolling it down his stiff length with him moaning, pants will half-on, but you ignored it, getting up and sinking down on him, swallowing him with your heat, setting him and you on fire, riding him agonizingly slow to piss him off, to make him growl, enduring it for only a few minutes before grabbing your arms and pinning you to his body, rolling you back over to your side of the bed and planting his hands on the bed, fucking you forcefully and hurriedly, clenching his jaw.

“So eager to finish?” you taunted, almost spitting in his face, so furious your core tightened, muscles choking his cock and making him hiss. “So ready to run away just like how you ran away last time, Jungkook, telling me bullshit about how you didn’t want to be loved by me?”

He grabbed your legs and pushed them up to his shoulders, slapping his hips into yours, his crotch and balls getting soaked with your cum and his saliva, wet loud smacks that used to fill up this room most nights, his eyes staring into yours, nearly black with his expanded pupils, the dark sea swimming in those orbs, drowning you and drowning him, dotting your face with his tears once more.

“Shit on me some more, why don’t you?” he ground out.

“You fucking deserve that shit,” you shot back, now slapping your hips back into his, feeling it now, feeling the unbearable lust and heat and fury and pain and desire for this to be real, your hands finding his hair again, pulling on it with every thrust, your whines and his cries mixing together, chasing blind release, watching his cock disappear into you and fill you to an almost unbearable tightness before looking back up to his face, neck and jaw tense, harder, harder, you holding back and him holding back, a stupid game of cat and mouse, his fucking favorite.

“Cum for me, fuck,” he panted. “Fucking cum for me, I need it, need you to feel good with my cock, please, fuck, don’t do this, please…”

Harder, faster, louder, you pulling his head down to kiss him messily, tits and bed bouncing, nails digging into his scalp, so close, barely holding on as it always was with him, on the verge of fireworks, getting your hands singed and burnt along the way, cursing loudly, your fate, your luck, and him, all at once, the feeling racing down your spine and exploding in between your joined hips.

“Fuck!”

Jungkook moaned in your mouth, cock milked by spasming velvety walls, shooting large spurts of cum into the condom, your pussy responding in kind, drenching his balls and crotch, your softness bent underneath his hardness, his kisses all over you again and you tried to shove him off, only for him to pin your wrists down, kissing you deeply, and you exhaling in his mouth, filling him from below and above, drowning him with you.

“Let me stay…” he sobbed in your face.

“So you can leave before I wake up?” you hiccupped, the pressure in your head and your legs numbing you, swearing you would never fall in love with Jeon Jungkook ever again, but you didn’t have to, because you were already in love with him, still in love with him, stupidly in love with him.

“Tie me down, lock me up, I don’t care,” he managed to get out in between sniffles, letting go of your hands and lowering your legs, wrapping his arms around you and rolling your bodies, putting you on top of him, his cock sliding out, but he held you tight, soul crushingly so. “Don’t sleep, watch me all night, anything you want.” Your name formed wetly on his lips, his hair and his scent all over your pillows once more, the place he looked best, the place he belonged. “Anything.”

You seized his head, shaking him. “Don’t you see how crazy you’re acting?”

Those dark brown orbs were sinking with his thoughts and your anger.

“That’s how I know I made a mistake.”

His hand cupped your cheek, searching your eyes, looking for his validation.

“I promise it’s different this time.”

His promises didn’t mean anything.

“Just forget me, Jungkook…” you cracked, forehead hitting his, adrenaline dying out, the crushing weight of your mistakes excruciating, wishing it would all go away. “Remember that you were the one who didn’t want this.”

He kissed you, far too long and too wet, a complete and utter mess.

“My memory’s shit,” he whispered, shudders shaking his tone and soul. “Absolute fucking garbage. It only remembers that I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

You closed your eyes and, when you opened them again, his clothes were all over the floor.

His taste still on your lips.

His tears still soaked in your skin.

His body still tangled up in your life, his lips still saying I love you like a broken record.

--

masterpost

[lipstickstainz]

just a few days - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: There’s no denying that Spencer and you hate each other. What happens, when you are forced to spend a few days together?  Warnings: enemies to lovers, language, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), typical criminal minds stuff Word Count: 4.5k A/N: hello friends. this is my first one shot and I hope you like it. gif not mine.  

„I didn’t think you could be any more of a shithead, but you just proved me wrong.“

Many people believe in love at first sight. The heart starts racing, the knees go weak and you feel dizzy. You want to get to know the other person at all costs. Which is total bullshit, of course. You can't fall in love with someone at first sight. Interest, yes, but that's not love.

With Spencer and you it was different. The first time you met, you were breathless. Your muscles tensed to the breaking point, the blood pulsed in your ears, and your stomach turned. Only, in your case, it definitely wasn't love.

„I saw a trash bag on the side of the road today. Reminded me of you“, you shot back and Spencer rolled his eyes.

Hate at first sight really did exist, and Spencer and you were the prime example.

There was always a stupid comment, a scathing sideways glance, or catty laughter. Neither of you took it personally - why would you? You weren't interested in each other's opinions - and it didn't interfere with your work, which is why Hotch didn't say anything about it. It annoyed him, but he had also noticed that the quality of your work was higher when you were at each other's throats than when you worked separately.

You couldn't even remember why you had been so hostile to each other from the beginning. It was mutual antipathy, but no one knew why. You didn't know each other from anywhere else, had never met anywhere. Actually, you were someone who gave people a chance first to get to know them reasonably, but with Spencer it only took one look before you were sure you definitely didn't like him. Was it his aura? His charisma? His constant need to be smarter than everyone else?

At first, the two of you had been holding back. You had been professional with each other, staying out of each other's way as much as possible and not exchanging more words than necessary. Everything had been fine until one day something slipped out of Spencer's mouth. The team had been sitting in the conference room discussing the latest case. You had said something about the murder weapon when Spencer had rolled his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you had asked him, annoyed. Spencer sat up straight in his chair and grabbed the crime scene photo.

"I've never heard anything so stupid," he said, looking at you with amusement.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop it," Hotch intervened. "We don't have time for bitching. JJ, inform the department we're on our way. Wheels up in thirty."

From that moment on, there was no turning back. You tried to belittle each other, but Hotch had forbidden you to relate it to work. Teasing and mean statements were allowed, but you were not allowed to get in the way of your work. And the most important thing: no arguing in front of outsiders. The team was used to it, but if others got wind of it, it would undermine your authority. So you had to pull yourselves together at times. Which was no problem.

Once inside the police department, Hotch divided the team. "Y/L/N, Reid, you'll go to the crime scene and examine the house for any abnormalities that might indicate motive," he said, and you looked at each other with disgust in your eyes. Hotch cleared his throat and gave you a look that said, "Get your act together or I'll send you home."

On the way to the scene, the radio was playing and you hummed the tune contentedly. You almost forgot who you were in the car with if Spencer hadn't suddenly turned off the radio. You made an annoyed noise.

"I wanted to hear that."

"I know," Spencer grinned, glancing at you briefly before looking out the window again. "And that's why I turned it off."

Sometimes you could strangle him.

The house was pretty run down from the outside. Spencer and you looked at each other. "If I had to hide your body somewhere, it would be right here," you grinned, walking toward the front door.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of killing me," he said, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. "My death should have meaning. I'm not going to let someone like you kill me over that."

The interior of the house was in complete contrast to the exterior. Every room was cleaned and tidy, there was not a speck of dust anywhere, and the way magazines, pictures, and other decorations had been laid down indicated -.

"OCD," Spencer noted. "Look, Y/N. The magazines all have the same number of pages, the picture frames on the windowsill are all the same distance apart, and -" , he opened a cabinet in the kitchen, "the handles on the cups all point in the same direction."

"So the person has damage like yours," you said, surveying the pictures in the hallway. Luckily there were only two of you, or you would have had to stifle the comment.

"Ha. Ha. I don't have OCD."

"You still have some damage. Forensics said traces of bleach were found throughout the house," you added to his insight, walking down the hall. "The unsub cleaned and left everything like this."

"And how would you know that?" asked Spencer, who had followed you. In the ceiling in the hallway was the hatch that led you to the attic.

"The pictures in the hallway are not of the victim. They're printed photos of people from the Internet. There is no connection." You climbed the ladder and what awaited you there did not surprise you.  The attic was filled with junk. It seemed like everything had just been shoved in. But again, there was not a woolly mouse to be seen.

"Apparently, the unsub places a lot of importance on maintaining the appearance of orderly, clean living."

You nodded at him and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. "Garcia, please search for wealthy families where children have been hospitalized with broken bones, hematomas or other injuries," you said, and Spencer snatched the phone from your hand. Annoyed, you looked at him.

"Equate that to sports injuries again, please. Thank you," he asked her before hanging up and tossing you the phone.

"Sports injuries?" you asked him, and he nodded.

"No parents would take their child to the hospital with injuries like that without an explanation. Sports injury is a good way to disguise something like that," he explained and you left the loft. When you got back into the car, you looked at him.

"If you snatch that phone out of my hand again, you'll be the next one with a slit throat," you smiled sweetly at him.

Spencer laughed out loud. "You grow a few more inches first, then maybe you can get to my throat."

Back at the precinct, the team profiled him and shared it with detectives. The plan was to lure him out of hiding and hope he would say or do something so you could arrest him.

"Bailey is targeting young couples in their twenties and thirties who are still in the early stages of their lives. They all moved in together a few days before they died. They were all very messy, which showed not only in their apartment, but also in their style of dress," Rossi explained.

"That's why two of our team will go undercover to draw him out," Hotch continued, giving Spencer and you a meaningful look. You knew what that meant. And you weren't in the mood for that. "Agent Y/L/N and Doctor Reid will be moving into a house on the outskirts of town, in the exact area where the last victim was found. Since he likes to return to the scene of his crime, he'll take notice."

"And then what do we do?" the sheriff asked, writing diligently.

"He'll show up a few days later and then we can go get him," Emily brought the conversation to a close and the group broke up. Hotch motioned Spencer and you to come with him to an adjoining room.

"I blindsided you with the proposal, and for that I'm sorry," he said, looking from Spencer to you, "but I'm afraid we have no choice. Tomorrow morning you'll move into the house and then it's only a matter of time before he comes. Just a few days. And until then, please try not to kill each other."

Spencer and you had been sitting together all night, working out a plan. Not only did you have to pretend to be a happy couple in front of others, you had to pretend behind closed doors. And that certainly wasn't going to be easy.

"Spencer, I'm only going to ask you this once," you began. "Are you okay with me touching you? Otherwise, we'll have to figure something else out. You can't flinch when I reach for your hand or give you a kiss on the cheek, even if I don't want to do that myself."

"I can handle that," he grinned. "As long as you promise not to snuggle up to me in your sleep. Because then I'll have to vomit."

Hotch was pretty happy with your plan and wished you good luck. He didn't want to bug the house because you still needed privacy, but the whole team was on speed dial. Besides, the others would take turns watching you. You weren't afraid, but knowing the others were always there calmed you down a bit.

The next morning, Spencer and you drove to your house. It looked a lot like the last victim's house. One story and an attic, the front yard hadn't been tended in ages. Spencer parked the car in the driveway and got out first so he could open the door for you like a gentleman.

"Are you ready for our new life?" he smiled, pulling you into his arms before you headed toward the door. His perfume was so strong it clouded your mind.

"With you, I'm ready for anything," you returned, placing your lips on his cheek.

Living with Spencer was more pleasant than you had imagined. You spent most of your time together in silence, Spencer with a book and you with music or magazines. You didn't avoid each other either, but spent every second together. Spencer always helped you cook and you helped him do laundry. You even went shopping together. There were little spats in between, but otherwise you got along fine.

You also noticed some things about Spencer that had completely escaped your attention until now. For example, he always had several books lying next to him when he read one. Which made sense if he finished one of them within ten minutes. Also, he would always mouth off a little when he was talking about something that was bothering him. And when he was talking about something he liked, he spoke with an incredible passion that was contagious.

What surprised you the most was sleeping next to each other. Since you also had to pretend to be overjoyed at home, you had also planned to share a bed. It was the most sensible and the easiest. Spencer's presence even calmed you down when you woke up in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream, and his regular breathing in the evening helped you fall asleep.

On the fourth night, a nightmare jolted you from sleep. You didn't remember what exactly you had dreamed, but you knew that you wouldn't fall asleep again so quickly. As quietly as you could, you got out of bed, not wanting to wake Spencer, and went to the kitchen. You flipped on the light over the stove, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. After a big gulp, you felt better, but still worried. Tired, you leaned against the counter and rubbed your hand over your face.

"Are you alright?" asked Spencer, entering the kitchen. He was wearing a loose T-shirt and boxers. Something you hadn't noticed before.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry," you said honestly, putting the glass in the sink. Spencer just smiled, "I had a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, standing next to you, you shook your head. "Okay." He was about to head back toward the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway. Spencer looked at you and you smiled weakly. He approached you again and reached for your hand. Carefully he pulled you to him and put his free hand on your lower back to press you closer to him. You laid your head against his chest and could hear his heartbeat. Then Spencer slowly rocked back and forth.

No one said a word as you danced with each other in the kitchen in the middle of the night. You enjoyed each other's presence and warmth. Spencer put a finger under your chin and made you look at him. There was no hate or dislike in his eyes. There was a twinkle in them that confused you greatly. Gently, he placed his lips on your forehead before pulling away.

"Let's go back to sleep," he smiled, pulling you by the hand back into the bedroom. In bed, he reached his arms out to you so you could lay your head on his chest. There it was again, his heartbeat. But this time it was faster, steady, but faster. Spencer reached for your hand again and intertwined your fingers.  "Sleep well, Y/N," he was still whispering, but you were barely aware of it. You had never fallen asleep so quickly.

The next day, the two of you went for a walk in the evening. Spencer's hand in yours no longer felt strange, but very familiar. The whole relationship between you had changed fundamentally. There was no more bitching, no more evil glances, no more spiteful laughter. You wondered if it would stay that way when you left the house, or if you would go back to your old ways. Secretly, you hoped that you would remain friends when all this was over. Even though you had only been here a short time, you had actually grown fond of Spencer. You just hoped he felt the same way about you.

"Y/N," Spencer whispered when you reached your street.

"Huh?" You looked up at him and he smiled lovingly at you. You would never get enough of that look.

"Please look at me when I tell you this now. There's a man walking across the street, right at our level, with his hood pulled over his head," he continued to whisper and I tried not to let on. "He's been following us for two blocks. I think it's him."

I nodded. "We need to show him that we are to be his next victims," you stated. When you arrived at your house, Spencer pulled you even closer. You knew what was coming. You didn't resist, and not because it was part of your plan, but because you were waiting for it.

Spencer put his hands to your cheeks and leaned down to put his lips on yours. Your heart started racing, your knees went weak, and you felt dizzy. If Spencer hadn't been holding you, you would have slipped through his fingers. His lips were soft and warm and when you kissed him back, a grumble sounded from his chest. One of his hands moved to your butt, pressing your hips against his as he slid his tongue into your mouth. You felt hot and warm shivers ran down your spine. You tried not to think about the fact that you could feel his erection against your belly, but failed miserably.

With his other hand, Spencer reached for the key and opened the door without breaking away from you, then pushed you into the house where he could have pulled away from you, but he didn't. His kisses grew hungrier and greedier, his hands reaching under your butt so he could lift you up. Your legs knotted behind him. He carried you toward the bedroom and pressed you against the wall. You rubbed your hips against his and he moaned into your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, sliding a hand under your shirt. His fingers danced over your bare skin and his touch burned into your skin. You wished this moment would never end.

"Cameron Bailey, put the knife down and raise your hands," Derek called out. Spencer and you jumped apart, completely confused and gasping for air, and saw the team standing in your bedroom. Derek took Bailey into custody and led him away. How had you not noticed that he had come into the house?

"Are you all right?" asked Emily, but you could only nod. What would have happened if Bailey hadn't broken in? How far would Spencer and you have gone?

It wasn't long before the team was back on the plane. Spencer sat alone at one end of the plane and you at the other. You hadn't had time to talk about what had happened, because after Bailey was arrested, you had packed your things and gone to the airport with the others. But what did you want to talk about? About the kiss? About the touch? About your friendship, if you could call it that? Never in your life had you been so uncertain as at that moment.

Spencer probably didn't want anything more to do with you, and you tried to tell yourself that you were okay with that. You tried to adjust to things going back to the way they were. It scared you that deep down you cared. You had hated Spencer for years and just a few days with him had completely turned your feelings upside down. And that bothered you the most.

"I could use a beer right now," Derek said when you arrived at Quantico. "Anyone coming?"

"I'm going home," you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "My shower is waiting for me and my bed is calling for me too."

"Same here," Spencer gave and together you walked to the elevator while the others talked about where to go to celebrate. The silence between Spencer and you was unbearable, both outside the elevator and inside. You wanted to say something, but couldn't manage more than a guarded smile, which he kindly returned. At least no more bitching.

"Good night, Y/N," he said goodbye and left without turning around once more. You took a deep breath and headed home as well.

Once home, you dropped your bag on the floor and tried to wash off Spencer's touch in the shower. You brushed your teeth to scrub his taste from your tongue, but nothing could chase away the thoughts that haunted your mind. You put on fresh panties and an oversized shirt, which ended just below your butt. You were on your way to the couch when there was a knock on your door.

Without hesitation you opened the door and your heart stopped. Spencer stood in front of you, hands buried in his pockets and a small smile on his lips. "Hi."

"Hey," you said softly, and you didn't realize until then that you were standing in front of him half-naked. Embarrassed, you pulled the hem of your shirt down further. He glanced briefly at your hands and blushed before looking you in the eye again.

"I know this probably sounds stupid, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep alone tonight. I've gotten used to sleeping next to you and after today, I don't think either of us should spend the night alone," he babbled, entering your apartment without prompting. You shut the door behind him. "Besides, there's something I wanted to do." Carefully he put his bag on the kitchen counter and came towards you with long steps.

It was not five seconds before he pressed his mouth on yours and a sigh came out of your mouth. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so greedily they moved over your body, while yours got caught in his hair. When his fingers grazed your bare skin on your legs, you slumped against him.

"I didn't want to let you go home alone," he whispered between kisses, looking deep into your eyes. "I didn't want to sit so far away from you on the plane either, and when I got home, all I wanted was to be with you." His tongue dominated yours as his hands slid under your shirt. Your skin burned like fire where he touched you. "Tell me to stop, Y/N. Please tell me to stop and leave. Because if you don't do it now, I'll stay forever."

You went to kiss him, but he broke away from you and grabbed your chin with one hand, making you look at him. He was expecting a response. "Stay, Spencer. Stay forever and I'm yours."

That's all the confirmation he needed. His hands were on your hips again, but moved further down to briefly stroke your ass before leaning down and grabbing the back of your thighs. Without effort, he lifted you up and his lips assaulted your neck, and as he sucked on the soft spot where your jaw met your neck, all you could do was whimper his name.

Spencer carried you into your bedroom with ease, his mouth never leaving your heated skin. The warmth in your body grew with each kiss as he gently laid you on the bed.  You pushed yourself to the head of the bed, allowing your head to rest on the soft pillow as Spencers hovered over you to kiss your neck.

His lips moved to your collarbone, his hands slid under your shirt and you arched up to meet him so he could easily pull it off. Hastily you reached for his shirt and undid the buttons to rip it from his torso. His weight was heavy on you and his hot skin almost burned you with every further touch. Without a word, you unbuttoned his pants and he kicked them off his long legs. For a brief moment you looked at each other. In that look were all the apologies you wanted to say, but that was no longer important. What was important was the man in front of you, the man you had fallen head over heels in love with in just a few days.

You put your hands on Spencer's back and felt the muscles dancing under your fingers. You took a quick glance at his black boxer briefs, which already seemed a little too tight for him.

"God, you're beautiful," he moaned as he glanced down your body. His hands were on your breasts and he rolled your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Again, you arched up to meet him.

"Spencer," you moaned, "no teasing. Please," you begged, closing your eyes to feel his touch more intensely. When you opened your eyes again, you could see a crooked grin on his face. He was enjoying your begging. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your panties and you could hear him ripping them. Cool air met your hot core and Spencer's boxers landed on the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You had to swallow. He was long and surprisingly thick and you wondered if he would fit. Spencer looked at you silently with raised eyebrows.

"I'm on the pill," you explained, grabbing his shaft with your hand and running your thumb over the tip to smear the pre-cum, making him moan with pleasure. You pumped him two times before Spencer grabbed your wrist.

"I won't last long if you keep this up, love," he rasped, guiding his pulsing erection to your wet entrance. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him so close to you that there wasn't an inch between you. He looked at you one more time, searching for something in your face, but you just smiled at him, drunk with love. And then he glided home.

His cock was stretching you like no man before did and it almost hurt, but with the pain came the pleasure. Spencer rested his forehead on yours and his breath was hot on your skin. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his gentle touch.

"Move, please, Spence," you purred, and that was all he needed. He withdrew almost completely from you before thrusting into you again. He quickly found a steady pace and his length stroked all the right places. The heat between your thighs spiraled in your belly and you dug your nails into Spencer's back.

"Spencer, fuck," you breathed and he grinned before pressing his lips to your throat and gently biting your collarbone. Before you knew it, he was sliding his hand between your bodies and rubbing furiously over your clit and it was all getting too much for you.

Your nails raked across his skin and certainly left a few marks on as you climaxed and your vision went black.You spasmed around his cock and felt it twitch inside you.  Spencer moaned a mixture of swear words and your name as he coated your walls with his cum, his fingers digging into your hips and probably bruising them.

He placed his lips on yours one last time before carefully pulling out of you and disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. "Careful, love," he says softly, running it along between your legs to wipe your mingled cum. When he touched your sensitive clit, you flinched involuntarily. He returned the washcloth to the bathroom before lying back down with you. He pulled you to him and kissed your forehead. "Can I tell you something?" he breathed, you looked up at him quite exhausted.

"Of course."

He smiled lovingly. "I've fallen head over heels in love with you in the last few days," he confessed and your heart stopped. "The moment you laid your head on my chest in bed. You turned my whole world upside down and I can't imagine spending a single day without you anymore."

"You don't have to," you replied, putting your hand to the back of his head so you could pull him down to you. Gently you placed your lips on his and you felt his cock twitch against your belly. That's how strong your effect on him was. "I love you, Spencer."

In one fluid motion, he rolled onto you and pressed his mouth onto yours. This kiss was like the one in the house, angry, hungry and greedy. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers gently circled your clit. Your legs twitched and he pushed further down so he was eye level with your cunt. Gently he slid two fingers inside you and you moaned loudly. "I love you, Y/N. Don’t you dare forget it, when I make you scream and cum around my tounge.“ He licked long stripe from your entrance to your clit and gently sucking on it. Your body shook under his tounge and touch, as he slipped to fingers into your dripping cunt again. „Are you ready for round two?"

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Since you started working in the castle, you’ve experienced many things.

You’ve seen other maids get slashed for nothing. You’ve seen the daughters lick a sickle covered in blood, break into a swarm of insects and then materialize someplace else. You’ve heard of the tormented wailing they cause in the dungeons.

They're things that you thought would haunt you, day and night, until you couldn’t function properly anymore. And yet. You found you could somehow still focus on your work despite it all.

How ironic is it that, in the end, it is a kiss that threatens to break your mind?

You used to think only of your survival before it, of studying routes for a potential escape. Now you can hardly focus on polishing a single goblet without getting distracted. You see her everywhere you turn, even when she’s not there. When you close your eyes at night, you can still feel her sigh against your lips.

It’s driving you crazy. She’s driving you to madness.

You don’t understand it. Any of it. It doesn’t make sense for your mind to be so stuck on someone you fear. Not unless a screw has gotten severely loose in your own head. A very possible scenario and one you don’t want to entertain.

The only semi logical explanation you’ve come up with –actually, the only one that lets you sleep at night– is that you’re subconsciously trying to humanize Cassandra. To see her as something you want rather than someone you despise, turn a negative into a positive, terror into desire. To make your life, what has become of it anyway, more bearable for you.

Yeah. You go with that.

At dinner, you keep your eyes down unless Lady Dimitrescu calls for more wine, but you can feel Cassandra’s piercing gaze on you almost like a physical touch. For two nights in a row you hear her graceful steps approach while you’re doing the dishes, but someone always calls for her before she reaches remotely near you.

And you’re glad for that.

Right?

On the third evening, while you’re tiredly walking back to your room after eight long hours of work, an arm shoots out of the shadows, grabs your wrist and pulls you off your path.

You nearly shout, but something soft, cold and unyielding covers your mouth. Your heart is giving painful kicks in your chest, your eyes are wide, frantically trying to adjust to the dark chamber. You start to calm only when you smell her perfume, but perhaps you shouldn’t.

“Relax, it’s me.” she says, like that's assuring.

You blink several times; your sight adjusts just enough to make out her hooded outline, thanks to the faint moonlight dispersing into the room from behind the nearest closed curtain.

Cassandra removes her hand from your lips once she’s sure you won’t scream.

“Hi.” she greets with what you guess is a smile.

It would perhaps be slightly endearing if she wasn’t your captor, hadn’t just startled you half to death and wasn’t dressed like the grim reaper in the pitch-black.

“H-hi.” you say back. It takes a ton of willpower not to curl in on yourself. You’re not even sure you succeed.

“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.” she teases, poking your shoulder. You want to tell her it’s mostly her that scares the shit out of you, but you’re not that courageous nor that stupid. “I thought you a little braver than that.”

Your lips fall open. “Why?” you speak before you think and there’s probably something in your expression that makes her giggle.

Cassandra zooms to the window and pushes the curtain to the side, slightly. “Better now, my scaredy-cat?”

“Yes, thank you.” you reply, trying hard to bypass the possessiveness in her remark and what it does to your stomach.

“Good because you need to stop shaking. I don’t have much time.” Cassandra huffs. Before you can even think to say anything, her gloved fingers tug on your shirt, a tad rough, then shove you into an armchair.

You yelp, the air momentarily knocked out of your lungs, but then her gentle weight settles into your lap and you freeze. A big part of your brain shuts down on the spot. Cassandra leans close and the angle allows the moonlight to caresses her face underneath the shadows of her hood. Its pale grace makes her look softer than usual, the gold of her eyes glowing like twin embers….

“You and I have things to discuss away from prying ears.” A thumb and pointer trap your chin in place. You're all too aware of the fact a squeeze from her is what it takes for you to never be able to talk again.

“Do you know how I wanted to get you alone like this, all to myself?” she husks, lightly biting the shell of your ear. The sting gets your blood rushing faster in your system but you aren’t cut. Yet. “Did you think about me?”

Cassandra, slow and methodical, moves further in. For a moment you think she’s going to kiss you, yet she grazes her lips against your jawline instead –it makes you shiver– until they’re right by your ear. Your knuckles curl white on the cushioned arms. Already you feel the hot caress of arousal pool low in your stomach.

And you hate it.

You don’t want to admit it out loud that you did. To either of you. Your silence seems to irk her, though, because a sharp nip comes at your pulse. “Ah! …I did.” The shameful truth instantly spills from your lips.

“Yes?” She pulls back until you’re eye to eye, lip to lip.

Having her like this on top of you now, eyes gleaming, mouth glistening and oh-so-inviting, you wonder why you ever thought you were strong enough to resist temptation.

“...Yes.”

Cassandra kisses you.

The sensation is every bit as thrilling as you remember. Rousing, like licking a double-edged knife and coming out of it uncut. It is all danger, suspension over fire, without knowing if you’ll end up warmed or burned.

The first kiss was a tiny taste of the forbidden fruit. This one is you delving right into its ripe flesh, accepting you’re already hooked. Yes, you may die. But you weren’t really living since you were brought into the castle, either.

Cassandra is busy sucking on your lower lip when her back tenses under your fingers. Begrudgingly, she pulls herself back, neck turned a tad to the right, listening in for something you cannot hope to hear.

You finally remember what it feels to be alive underneath her slippery lips and breathy little moans, her cold fingers that grip at your throat and clothes like they have yet to decide which of the two they want to rip off. You're sure bruises will be left in the morning.

"Ugh. Daniela is being impatient again." she huffs, borderline irritated. "Gotta go."

You can't exactly stop her. You're not even sure you'd want to, even if you could. "Okay." is about all you can really say.

"Dream of me." she smirks, fingers trailing over your chin as she rises. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She waves, full of charm, a nightmare that somehow shifted into a pleasant dream. Then she's gone, leaving you alone in the dark. Your body laments the loss but your nerves are wiser, finally easing.

For once, however, the prospect of tomorrow doesn't fill you with only dread.

[lovely-angst]

hi! how r u? I heard u were looking for ideas so I thought of this small fluff idea where its like a meet-cute on the bus or wherever but yk how sometimes u see someone & u really want them to talk to u or u wanna talk to them bc they just seem really interesting? bakugou kinda feels that way when he sees the reader but he's a little shy so when they get off the bus or just leave, he blurts out 'wait!' w/ no idea of what else to say & he's really flustered (idk u can go from there but yeah :))

a/n: a little short but sweet! <3 thanks for sending this in!!

genre: fluff

pairing: bakugou x reader

summary: bakugou hates riding the bus, but one day a cute stranger decides to fill up the empty seat beside him and he couldn’t help but want to get to know them

word count: 1.2k

04.05.2021

-

It was another one of those rare occasion days where Bakugou had to take the bus home. He disliked the thought of being surrounded by people and germs in a confined space.

But unfortunately for him, the weather was grimly and wet and Bakugou would have walked home if he had remembered to grab his umbrella on the way out. So here he was, arms crossed in annoyance as he sat in the packed bus, waiting for his stop.

People came and went with each stop and by the second stop, the seats were full except for the one beside him. It was probably due to the growing scowl on his lips.

He was too busy glancing out the window, waiting for his stop to notice you approach the empty seat beside him quietly. It wasn’t until your school bag had brushed against his leg that he turned to check out the scene.

And was he pleasantly surprised.

There you sat beside him, just a few inches away as he took in the beauty of this complete stranger. He wasn’t one for wanting to get to know people, but for some odd reason, you had caught his attention.

The more he observed you, the more he wondered why he was so interested in the first place? Was it the way that your gentle perfume that matched you so well and that it seemed to pull him in?

He was too busy figuring you out that he didn’t see you turn towards him. “Sorry about that,” you said with a gentle smile as you moved your bag away. Your voice snapping him out of his trance before he turned his head away and back to the view outside that seemed so dull compared to you.

But just as quick as his daydream came, his daydream left. After a short five minute ride to the next stop, you grabbed your bag and stood up. And just when Bakugou thought he couldn’t have found you so alluring, there was a little All Might key chain attached to your bag’s zipper.

Maybe he’d have to try taking the bus more often now. - “Huh? You’re taking the bus again? The weather’s amazing today though!” Kirishima exclaims as he watches his friend pack his bag before the two of them head over towards UA’s main gates. “Just didn’t feel like walking in this heat,” Bakugou grumbles, standing beside the bus stop.

“Whatever you say, see you tomorrow!” Bakugou watches as Kirishima skips away before glancing over at his phone to check the time.

Could the bus come any slower?

It wasn’t until he found himself sitting in the same spot as the day before was when he began questioning himself. All this for a girl you’ve only seen once? Get a grip! And his pep talk almost worked until he saw you getting on the bus, watching as you scanned for empty seats.

He could feel himself grow excited at the thought of you sitting beside him once more. But before you could get a chance to spot the empty seat beside him, some lame extra swiped that offer before you could as they plopped themselves down in the seat.

Bakugou wanted to yell as the seat beside him was suddenly taken over by someone other than you. He watched as you took a seat towards the front of the bus instead.

This is why he hated taking the bus. Maybe he had hit a streak of bad luck, he thought, staring out the window once more, watching as they neared your stop. And once they arrived at your stop, his red eyes glanced over towards you to see you getting up with your bag.

Only for your All Might key chain to fall off your bag without you noticing. Bakugou sat up straighter as he watched you walk away without a clue and before he could think about his options, he was already out in the aisle picking up the key chain.

Beeping his bus card, he jumped off the bus with a shout, “wait!” And when you turned around and noticed the key chain in his hand with your eyes widened. “Thank you so much!” you cried as you ran over, allowing him to place the key chain in your hands.

“You had to get off the bus early because of me. Let me at least pay you back for the rest of the fee,” you try, but Bakugou stops you.

“I usually walk home anyway, so it’s fine,” he says quietly, trying to repress the blush forming on his cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile at him. “Is that why I’ve never really seen you on the bus before?”

Bakugou raises a brow at you—you’ve noticed?

“You never ride the bus, so seeing you two days in a row is quite rare,” you say, looking to the side in deep thought, something Bakugou had found rather adorable. “I better get going. I have to catch my train! See you tomorrow maybe!” turning on your heel, you give him a wave before heading off towards the train station.

He hated riding the bus, but if it meant he could continue having these interactions with you, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Bakugou didn’t continue riding the bus daily, but he did try to ride once or twice a week. But those days that he did decide to ride the bus were so worth it every time your face lightened up when you saw him. 

“Bakugou! You’re on the bus today!” you chirp happily as you quickly sat down beside him, leaning into him happily. “I feel like it’s been so long!”

It didn’t help that you were so close to him, closer than you normally would be. Feigning annoyance, Bakugou gently pushed your face away with a sigh, “It’s only been two days.

Your eyes glanced up at him with a quirky smile, “Yeah, but didn’t these two days feel like forever?”

And it made Bakugou lock up. You just seemed to know what to say to get him to freeze. He could feel that familiar blush rise up against his cheeks as you stared up at him cheekily. 

“To you maybe,” he retorts, earning a small pout from you. “Say what you want, but I know you’re lying,” he watches the way you scrunch your nose before pointing a finger at him accusingly. “You could have walked today and yet, here you are.”

Checkmate.

Your smile widened as you watched the man beside you go silent. His cheeks turning a lovely rosy color as he frowned out the window, trying to ignore your comment.

Just once you thought you had got him, Bakugou turns to face you with the most handsome smug look as he nears you, “Only for you, sweetheart.”

You jumped back with a look of shock before heat rises up to your cheeks and thankfully, it was already your stop. You shoot him a quick goodbye before scurrying away, leaving Bakugou alone with your empty seat. 

When the doors finally closed and the bus continued on, was when Bakugou broke into a flustered mess. He was starting to get too bold with you.

These next few rides were going to be interesting.