#i'm chewing walls and bricks

[csnrwa]

pfw 2025

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

[saint-hymn]

studying anon i'm in no shape to reply but i swear you occupy a sizeable portion of my head like the raven perched upon a bust

[tmf-confessions]

now i know how those tournament/confession blogs feel when they keep reblogging stuff not on their main

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?���

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[kilojulietsierra]

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter Three (Dr Robby x FemNurse!Reader)

Ok y'all the storms were messing with my internet last night so sorry for the delay, but here it is!

TW: All my content is considered 18+ so proceed accordingly, fluff, a little smut, early days of dating miscommunication, Robby is a bad influence but also wants to spoil her so bad, mentions of therapy, language, Sam makes another cameo, grammar and spelling cuz I don't edit this shit lol

Need to catch up? Chapter One Chapter Two

~~~~~~

Chapter Three

Michael had let you pick the restaraunt, which you appreciated. You'd picked a small place a few blocks from your apartment. A hole in the wall tavern with an eclectic drink menu and a margherita flatbread you could live on if you allowed yourself. The litghting was dim, the interior was all brick and reclaimed wood, the music was soft and jazzy, you loved this place. You also loved the way Michael looked as he glanced over the menu with his glasses on.

"Friendly reminder, I'm old." He deadpanned from beside you at the bar.

"Not even close to what I was thinking." You can't quite look at him when you say it so you pretend to read the menu.

His knee bumps yours to pull your attention back, "And what exactly were you thinking then?" He settles his eyes on you, the glasses just low enough on the bridge of his nose that he can study you over the top of them.

You wish you had a drink already because your mouth goes a little dry, "Definitly not that you're old." You avoid the question and your cheeks warm at the way he smirks.

He let's it go, though he continues to look skeptical, maybe a little mischievous. "Jack gives me hell, says I should just get lasik. Says it's life changing."

"I like the glasses." You can't bring yourself to look at him when you say it, except out the corner of your eye. Enough that you catch the way his smile ticked up to one side.

"Good to know." Michael nodded and went back to the menu, "Very good to know."

~~~~~

Michael walked you home after dinner and it was chilly enough in the evenings now that you felt justified in sticking close to him. You thought your heart was going to stop when he reached over to grab your hand and pulled it, guided it easily so that he could link your arm through his.

It felt good, it felt easy and right and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep what would surely be the most ridiculous smile off your face.

He opened the door to your building for you, and when his hand settled in the middle of your back to guide you through you were nearly certain you would spontaneously combust.

Michael though, Michael seemed so calm and quiet, kept the same easy smile on his face like it was completely normal. When he helped you out of your coat, finally inside your apartment, you entertained the thought. How nice would it be for this to be your normal?

"You want something to drink?"

You grin, "He asks me in my own apartment."

Michael grinned back at you and leaned against the counter in your tiny kitchen, "Well?"

You chew your lip and concedes, "There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, nothing fancy." You try not to feel silly. Your mind automatically jumped to Jack and Sam's house with it's wine cooler and collection of whiskey and bourban. "Sorry, I don't have any bourban or anything like that."

He had already opened and closed the door to your fridge and begun the search through your cabinets for glasses. "Don't need anything fancy." He said it offhand, but then Michael must have seen the look on your face, "Hey, what's wrong?"

You hesitated, "Honestly, just feeling kind of silly I guess." T

he cupboard door thunked and he crossed the small kitchen, his eyes scanned your face and then before you could explain yourself futher Michael was kissing you.

Dr.Michael Robinavitch, was standing in the tiny kitchen, of your tiny apartment, towering over you, one warm hand on your cheek... and kissing you. It was soft and slow and over too soon. "Better?" His smile was soft, his eyes warm and searching as he tried to read your expression.

Your breathing still hadn't regulated, your mind still racing, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Maybe, a little."

When his smile widened and he leaned in to kiss you again, it felt like your heart was going to break free from your chest. His hand didn't move, he didn't move, he only kissed you. Smoothed his lips overs yours in long, steady passes.

When he pulled back he tugged your bottom lip with him and he must of liked the way it made you giggle because he dropped one more kiss to your lips. His thumb stroked over the place where he had treated the airbag burn on your cheeks the couple weeks before. Like an afterthought he tipped his head and dropped a kiss there too, lips just brushing the apple of your cheek. "How about now?" His voice was low and warm and close enough to your ear to send shivers down your spine.

"Feel like I could use that drink now." You couldn't help the near giggle that escaped, but you also couldn't help but notice the way Michaels gaze darted lower, his cheeks a little pink, when you bit your lip to stifle it.

He gave you a smirk and a half chuckle, "I can make that happen." HIs thumb stroked over your cheekbone one more time and then he was back on his search for wine glasses. "Go sit, I'll bring it over."

You did as he said and watched him from your little loveseat as he moved through your kitchen and poured the wine. As he approached you felt simultaneously embarassed by the tiny couch in your tiny apartment, and beyond grateful for it because it left little room to sit anywhere except right up against him.

When he brought you the wine he handed you a glass and then dropped himself into the empty corner of the sofa. He turned to face you, right arm drapped over the back, one leg folded up on the seat cushiion. WIth his other hand he raised his glass, "To finally getting that second date." He clinked his glass to yours, "Worth the wait."

The only answer you could form was an embarrasingly giddy smile that you immediately tried to hide in your wine.

Michael grinned wider and took a sip for himself. "If I can ask, why did you say you felt silly?"

You took another hurried sip of wine and then shook your head, "Nothing really."

He looked at you in a way he hadn't since that first night at Jack and Sam's. Like he was trying to figure something out. "I'd like it if you'd tell me." His expression was so soft, curious, eyes so sincere.

"Well," You start, "Maybe it's stupid, probably is, but I guess it's just that... I really like you and spending time with you and it's just sort of, jarring maybe," You twisted up your face trying hard to put your feelings into a coherent sentence. "Now that i'm saying this out loud I'm actively realizing it's stupid." You busted out into a laugh and finally just spit it out, "My apartment is tiny and embarrassing, and I only have these two wine glasses, like maybe four forks, the bedding on my bed right now is from Walmart and it's like four years old. Feel like I'm playing out of my league I guess."

If the embarrassment didn't kill you after spitting all that out, the look on Michaels face might.

Michael simply shook his head, his grin still present but softer, "You understand that none of that,"

"I know." You interrupt him, shake your head at yourself and lean your head against your hand, mirroring Michaels position opposite you. "I... I do know. Think you just..." the words trailed off as you really studied the way the man across from you was looking at you. The effect it had on you, "You have me all flustered."

His grin turned into a smile, a chuckle even, and he turned his head to one side as he stretched his arm towards you over the back of the couch. Warm, gentle fingers tugged at your wrist until your arm was laid over the back of the couch like his. Michaels fingers traced over the inside of your wrist. He locked eyes with you and kept his voice low, "You think I'm not?"

~~~~~~

You and Robby were dating.

You were dating Dr. Michael Robinavitch.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch sent you cute text messages, called you on the mornings or evenings your schedules didn't line up, he even occasionally sent you Doordash while you were on shift.

Like tonight, for example, when you walked past Sam where she sat behind the nurses station at her computer. Her eyes locked on yours with a very satisfied smirk on her face.

"What?" You attempted to play it off as you settled into an empty chair behind the station.

Sam just shook her head, "Didn't say anthing."

"You're thinking something, I can tell." You rolled your eyes as you dug into the bag from your favorite Italian place.

The charge nurse grinned and spun her chair to face you, "You guys are just cute, that's all." Her grin doubled when you pretended to be overly invested in your late night lunch. Sam spun back to her computer, "Wish I had someone to send me lunch from my favorite place in the middle of a long shift."

You scoffed, "Oh please." You stopped with the plastic fork halfway to your mouth. "I wIsh I had a shiny new $90,000 SUV."

Sam laughed as she picked up her water bottle and spun back around to face you, "Just have to ask really nice." She threw you a wink before she took a long drink of water.

"I don't know about that," You paused again to look at your forkfull of food, "Feels weird when he spends money on me, even stuff like this." You took the bite of pasta finally. Savored it for a moment. "Feels like mooching or something."

WIth a scoff Sam spun a circle in her chair, "Honey, not to be that person, but do you know what your new boyfriend makes a year?" Her eyes were wide when she hunted for your gaze, "He has the money to spend, and I know Robby well enough to know that shit like that," She points to the lunch he'd sent you, "That's like a love language for him. He likes taking care of people, especially his people."

The radio on the desk by Sam's computer crackled and squelched before you could respond, or even think through how you would respond. Ambulance service was en route.

You shoved a few more bites of the pasta in your mouth as fast as you could without choking and tried not to get hung up on the fact that Sam had used the word boyfriend. You and Robby were dating, but the words boyfriend or girlfriend hadn't been used, and as silly as it may have been that suddenly made you a little less confident in your new relationship status. '

~~~~~

Want to get dinner tonight? Promise I'll try and get out on time.'

You had stared at that text message longer than you'd care to admit. Wasn't like it was a booty call, it was dinner. Michael had a long weekend and you had the night off. It would make sense to go out, but you had got into your head again.

He sent you the sweet texts, he called you, he took you out, sent you lunch at work, kissed you. In fact, he kissed you like no man had ever kissed you before, but you hadn't yet talked about where this would end up. Did you want the same thing?

When the phone in your hand vibrated you nearly dropped it. Michael Robinavitch.

"Hey."

"Hey, didn't know if you saw my text, want to grab dinner?"

"Michael, am I your girlfriend?" The words were out of your mouth before you could even think twice. Your stomach dropped as you heard yourself speak them outloud.

For a moment the line was quiet. "Yes... at least... I've been working under that assumption." Another long pause. "Is that okay?"

"I'm sorry I," "

Hey, no, Don't apologize. Just..." The deep inhale was audible through the phone, "Can I come pick you up?"

Twelve minutes later there was a knock at your door. You'd spent most of that time panic cleaning and trying not to feel like you were going to be sick. Like you hadn't just messed this up. When you opened the door you stood up straight and prepared for... you didn't know what.

Michael was standing there in his scrubs and a wellworn Carhartt coat with snow still melting on the shoulders. He looked tired, but he still smiled when he saw you.

"Hey." Your voice barely registered to your own ears.

He just tilted his head to the side a bit and his smile grew a little, "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

You took a shaky breath and fidgeted in place, "Nerves I guess. We haven't really... labeled this and I think I just got into my own head."

Michael nodded, "Ok." He shoved his hands deeper into the coat pockets, "Well, I had a long fucking day and I'm starving. So, now I would like to spend the evening with my girlfriend. So, why don't you, said girlfriend, go grab your stuff? We'll swing by the house so I can shower and change quick, then you can tell your boyfriend," He smirks a little at the way you're making a face at him, "Which is me, by the way," He points to himself, "Where you want to go for dinner. Sound good?"

Your cheeks are warm and you can't decide whether to roll your eyes or smile like an idiot. So, you do both. "Yeah, that sounds good."

~

You furrowed your brow as you stared out the passenger window of Robby's truck. It never really occurred to you, not that you'd been dating for that long, but you didn't know where he lived. Now, as you drove down another tree lined street with little shops and the old, colonial style townhomes you realized you maybe should have asked. "You live in Shadyside?"

"Mhmm. Bought a place over here few years ago. Got it quote unquote cheap because it needed some work." He glanced over at you as he hit the blinker and turned a corner, "Not what you were expecting?"

"I didn't say that." You gave him another eyeroll and watched him grin, "Not sure what I was expecting I guess."

He slowed down and hit a button above the rearview mirror, "Well," He turned into the short drive and pulled the pickup into the ground level garage, "I dumped about half of what I paid for it into renovating it, so hopefully you approve, because I'm stuck with it for awhile."

When he let you into the house you stuttered to a stop just inside. Your heart dropped at the fact that you had ever let Michael see the inside of your tiny apartment, let alone made him sit on the floor with you and eat. You didn't move until you heard the thud of Michaels backpack and felt two hands settle on your shoulders, "I'm going to go wash the hospital off me quick." He kissed the back of your head, "Make yourself at home, snoop around, help yourself to… whatever." He dropped another kiss to the back of your head and then headed upstairs.

In your mind you had imagined Michael in something like Jack and Sam had. A nice house in the suburbs, lots of room, neat and tidy, maybe a pool. You were wrong, because this house, this house fit Michael Robinavitch in a way a house in the suburbs never could. It was warm, lived in but not quite a mess, not roomy, but comfortable. You felt like you could easily make yourself at home in the space, but you weren't sure if that was because of the house, or because it belonged to Michael.

~~~~~

Robby had showered quickly and tried not spend too much time thinking about the fact that he finally had you in his house. He had just stepped back into the bedroom to change when he paused. He heard something, More than just you moving around the house, so he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and headed back downstairs.

If he'd been nervous those feelings disappeared instantly as he came back downstairs and paused around the corner. Robby smirked to himself as he watched you move through his kitchen. Took the moment to stand back, quiet his breathing and watch until you caught him.

You paused, eyes wide and one hand on the refrigerator door, "How long have you been standing there?"

Robby chuckled, "Long enough." He stepped the rest of the way into his kitchen, "What're you looking for?"

"Oh," You looked around, "I thought maybe instead of going out to eat we could make something here."

He took a couple steps closer, smiled and nodded, "I'm guessing you've figured out that I need to get groceries?"

You laughed and Robby couldn't help but smile wider to see it. "Yeah, you really do."

"Okay with takeout? At least for one more night."

"That depends." You bit your lip.

WIth another chuckle Robby shook his head, "You really want Gio's again?" The way your smile doubled told him everything he needed to know. "Ok, pick out a bottle, I gotta go grab my phone and my wallet." He gestured to a built in wine cooler and disappeared back upstairs.

By the time he made it back downstairs, rattling the last few digits of his card off, you had picked out a bottle of wine and apparently found the bottle opener and two glasses. He hadn't needed to ask what to order for you, you always got the same thing, which he found adorable. "Said should be fifteen to twenty."

You met him in the middle of the kitchen with a glass for him, "What do you want to do while we wait?"

Robby grinned, shook his head a little at the glint in your eyes, "How about," He took the glass and set it down before guiding you around to one of the stools tucked under the kitchen island, "We talk about what you said earlier." He held your gaze as he leaned against the opposite side of the island from you, "Because apparently there's been some... miscommunication there. Which is mostly my fault. So, you were worried that this wasn't...?" He let the question trail off in the hopes you would fill in the blank for him.

After a long sip of wine you laid your hands flat on the marble counter top and nodded, "So, Sam said something at work."

Robby let his head bob, snorted because of course it was Sam. Sam always had something to say

"She called you my boyfriend, and it just made me realize we haven't really... put a name or a label on any of this and..." You took a deep breath, flicked your eyes back up to his. "That makes me nervous."

At first he just nodded, tried to hear what you were saying and really understand where you were coming from. "Because that made you think maybe this wasn't as serious as you wanted it to be?" He took an educated guess. When you nodded and looked back to the countertop, Robby nodded along. "I meant what I said when I picked you up tonight. You are my girlfriend. At least that's how I think of you" He scratched at the back of his neck, hearing how silly it sounded, and ducked his head to try and get you to look at him again, "This is real for me, I'm sorry I didn't make that clear." You finally looked up at him, eyes a little glassy, and he gave you a wink, "I'm just a little rusty is all."

You took another sip of your wine and smiled, "Sorry, i've been kind of weird."

Robby brought his wine glass with him as he circled back around the island to come closer to you, "Look at us." He hooked a finger under your chin and tipped your face towards his so he could kiss you briefly, "Communicating." He kissed you again, just a little longer that time.

"Therapist would be so proud." You smiled up at him, chuckled at him when he scrunched his face up and looked away.

"Shouldn't make fun of me." He dropped his hand from your chin to lean on it, fingers splayed wide over the marble counter. "I'm not." You chuckled as you looked up at him. His heart misfired when you raised both hands to rest over his chest.

"I think it's sexy you go to therapy."

"Jesus Christ." He murmered and chuckled at himself, his brain short circuited as he watched your smaller hands smooth over the front of his shirt. It made you laugh, which made him happy. "Anything else would you like to communicate about?" Robby liked the way you rolled your eyes at him. It made him want to do and say whatever it took so you'd keep doing it. He also liked the way you always had to bite back a smile while you did it. "Anything at all?"

You looked up at him from your seat on the stool, grin on your face, and seemed to think for a moment, "We could talk about why you've been slumming it, coming over to my itty bitty, sad little apartment instead of asking me to come over here."

"You assume I've never lived in a cheap apartment?" He grinned and studied your face, got the feeling you were only half teasing. "I wanted to spend time with you, doesn't matter to me where that is." He nodded to himself briefly and then gave you a smile. "This is still new, we're still figuring it all out." He took an extra step closer, dropped a hand to your knee to turn you towards him so he could kiss you again. "Now you know that you are definitley my girlfriend," He gave you an encouraging smile and another kiss, "You also know you can spend as much time here as you want." He spoke the words a breath away from your lips, close enough that he could feel you smile, "Preferably a lot of time."

~~~~~~

You were making out with Michael.

You were sitting on the couch, making out with your boyfriend, Dr. Michael Robinavitch, when you were supposed to be doing homework.

It had started innocently enough. You had the night off and a paper due. Michael had told you to come over and work on it at his place. Which is how you ended up on the couch, your back to his chest while you typed away and he read through case notes on his tablet.

You couldn't remember for sure when his free hand had moved to your arm and his fingers had started to stroke absentlmindedly over your skin. At one point he had startled you, his voice low and so close to your ear as you typed, "That study came out in twenty two not twenty three."

"Are you reading over my shoulder?" You teased even as you pulled up another tab to verify the dates.

Michael just chuckled and kissed the back of your head, kept his lips there, "Sounds good so far." He pressed another kiss behind your ear. "Almost done?"

"Almost." You corrected the date you'd cited for the study. Michael had been correct. You bit back a grin, "It'd go faster if you quit doing that."

"Doing what?" He chuckled even as he kissed the spot again.

"Distracting me." You let yourself smile, but continued typing. Or rather tried to.

"When's it due again?"

You heard the thunk of the tablet as he set it down on the end table and then the lighter sound that must have been his glasses as he set them down on top of it. Then both his hands were on you. "Uh," You had to think for a minute, "Not until tomorrow night. Midnight."

"Hmm." Robby wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter to him, "Plenty of time."

"You're supposed to be an educator, should be a better influence than this." You griped, but you still hit save and closed your laptop.

"Oops." He chuckled as you settled back into him and let him take your laptop to move it aside.

You never turned around to face him, just let him hold you like he had been and tip your face towards his. HIs hands on you, but never inappapropriat, never pushing too far. Or maybe not pushing far enough, you couldn't decide. Eventually you started to fidget, "Michael…"

"Hmm?' Was his only response, other than a large hand settling on your hip to keep you still.

After another long, mind numbing kiss, you chuckled, "I don't even know."

Michael grinned, snuck a thumb under the hem of your shirt and stroked it over the warm, soft skin underneath, "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

You froze. That was new. Very new. Coming over and spending time with him, in his home, had become a common occurrence, but you'd never stayed the night.

"You sure?" Your voice was soft when you turned more to look him in the eye.

HIs thumb continued to stroke back and forth over your hip, "Up to you, sweetheart." His eyes locked on yours and held, face soft, hint of a grin fighting at the corner of his lips.

For a long moment you were torn. The idea of spending the night with Michael was terrifying and exhilerating. You two had been going slow, taking your time, this would be… new.

"Hey," Michaels voice was soft and his breath warm against your ear, "Not asking for anything, just…don't want you to leave just yet."

You chewed on your lip for a beat, "Work tomorrow?" When Robby shook his head his grin grew another fraction. "Trying to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is?"

Robby chuckled, "Can stay up as late as you want." He pulled you back in to another, slower, softer kiss. "Maybe even sleep in."

Barely a whisper you added, "I didn't bring anything to sleep in."

HIs face split into the smile he'd been fighting back, "Even better." He laughed when you elbowed him, hard.

"You really are a terrible influence." You scowl at him over your shoulder, but you couldn't hold it long.

"Don't tell anyone." Michael tossed you a wink and reached to pull you back to him, his eyes locked on yours. HIs Adams apple bobbed as you leaned back into him and he settled his hands on your hips. Not guiding, not pulling, only holding. "Hey," He paused, like he hunted for the words, "It's alright," He paused to inhale deeply as you leaned into him, "Baby, it's alright if…"

You stopped him with a kiss, reached behind you with one hand to pull him to you, "It's alright if I want to stay?"

He smiled, smoothed his hands up your sides. "I'd like it if you did."

"If I stay will you let me finish my paper?" You looked back at him, eyebrow raised.

Michael seemed to consider, "Eventually." He kissed you again, and then let you get comfortable, sink back into him. His hands didn't stop though. His breath warm against your ear, his hands smoothed over your hips and your sides. "Maybe tomorrow."

Your brain had already checked out of any further, meaningful conversation. The only thing on your mind was that you were cuddling on the couch with Michael, making out with Michael, his hands on you, his beard brushing against the smooth skin of your neck. For the rest of the night you could stay like that, there on the couch in his arms if you wanted. Once again his thumb slipped under your shirt, smooth, repetitive strokes.

You could've stayed there as long as you wished, but you wanted more.

A little shocked by your own boldness you dropped your head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, as you smoothed a hand down his forearm. You settled your own hand over his and coaxed it further under your shirt. The satisfied hum, nearly a moan, slipped out as his heavy, warm hand spread wide over your stomach. His touch smoothed up and over your ribcage, his thumb within centimeters of your bra. The next sound you made was much closer to a proper moan and you could feel the way Michaels chest rumbled with a chuckle. "That feels good." You whispered as you felt his lips ghost across your neck.

"Yeah?" His tone matched yours as his left hand joined the other under your shirt. He pressed short kisses over the length of your neck. When you nodded, the kisses grew longer, wetter. "Good. I want you to feel good."

All you could do was nod.

"Want me to stop?" He slowed his movements.

"God no." Your eyes snapped open only to be met with his. Dark and shining with something, a grin on his face.

He brushed his nose a long your jaw before coming back for a kiss, "So, I can keep going then?"

You nodded and he slid his hands higher, the overwhelming heat of it forcing your eyes closed again.

"You want me to make you feel good?"

"Please."

His grip on you tightened with a tremor, his arms locked around you as his fingers dug in and Michael murmured out a strangled, breathless, "Fuck." Into your hair. He let out a long, unsteady breath and moved with a lazy purpose. One hand up and up, over a breast to slip easily into the cup of your bra to squeeze you. His thumb rolled over your nipple like he knew exactly where it would be, how much pressure to apply.

It makes your body react without your permission as you arch up into his touch. "Robby…God."

"Michael." He corrects you, words hot against your ear as his lips close over your earlobe and his grip on your breast tightens.

You whimper, your body rolls again and your own hands grab at his jean covered thighs on either side of you, "Fuck, sorry, Michael. Feels good."

"Good girl." The fingers of his other hand dipped, just barely, past the waistband of your own jeans, "Can I?"

There was no need to ask what it was he wanted, you had a pretty good idea, and besides that you would let Michael do just about anything he wanted to you at that moment. "Yes," Your hips pushed up into his touch, "Please."

His hold on you tightened, pushed you back so you were pressed against him completely again and Michael half chuckled half growled in your ear as he did it. "So sweet." His hand on your hip moved, joined the other, his fingers working together to undo the button and the zipper.

You couldn't help but watch, breath caught in your throat, as he slid his hand further. As it crept closer and closer to where you wanted it. No sound escaped you when his first finger found you so wet and warm, only a long studdering exhale as you let your eyes fall closed again.

Michael also kept silent, his attention focused entirely on where his hand disappeared into your pants. That same, singular finger stroked over you, the tip just barely dipping into your warmth with each stroke. Just when you thought you would have to say something, to ask for more, he gave you more. Like he had read your mind he dipped his middle finger in, one steady move, to the knuckle. His lips pressed to your temple and stayed there as he continued.

Before long he had established a pattern. His finger would sink in deep and then withdraw to circle around your clit. Once, twice and then back to tease you from the inside out. Over and over he did this, like nothing else existed in his world, until your hips had picked up the rhythym. WIth each sweep of his finger you couldn't help but lift your hips up to chase the sensation, then almost immediately grind back against him.

When the silence was finally broken it was with a rumbling chuckle, mostly a groan, Michaels breath hot against your ear, "Going to make me embarrass myself." His other hand settled heavy and firm on your hip, dragging your ass back against his erection and then trapping you there. He held you there with one hand while the other picked up the pace, the same pattern, the same motion, only quicker.

The sound his wrods and actions drug from you would be embarrassing if it hadn't made his own hips shift against yours. "Michael…"

"God," It game out as a whisper, but he sped up his hand, no longer teasing. Now he was chasing after something, "Never going to get tired of that." Then there was two fingers, faster, rougher, "Say it again, baby."

You did as he asked, whined out his name as he stoked the fire inside you.

"Say it again." He repeated himself.

"Michael, please." Like every strong, independent, feminist part of you lept out the window the only thing you wanted in that moment was for this man to make you cum. Now.

His hand moved faster,so borderline rough that you didn't have to move your hips. He was moving them for you. His touch shifting your hips under his fingertips as he focused all his attention on the swollen little bundle of nerves and ground his erection against you from behind, "Fuck baby, it's alright. It's alright, go ahead and let it go for me. Give it to me." Michael spoke, moaned, every word into your ear as his lips and teeth and tongue sucked and carresed and nipped at the sensivtive skin until your body seized up in his arms.

No more cute, needy little whines. You let out one, single, strangled gasp of his name as you came. Your head spinning and your entire body alight, like every nerve ending lit up at once.

Michael groaned, deep and louder than anything he'd let slip before. His arms bulged as they locked around you.

It took a moment, your brain barely functioning, for you to realize that Michael had cum with you.

"I'm sorry," He brushed his nose over the shell of your ear, chuckled at himself as he kissed over your neck.

WIth one limp arm you reached behind you to grab Michael by the back of his head and pull him to kiss you properly. "Oh baby, it's alright." You smiled into the kiss, a happy, satisfied little giggle escaping against his lips.

His fingers slipped back inside you and he cracked a scandalous smile when you trembled at the sensation. "We should go to bed."

When you whined, he chuckled again. Sleep was the last thing on your mind.

The fingers inside you swirled, curled, scissored as it to stretch you out and Michael whispered to you again, "Baby, I'm old, but I'm not that old." He nipped at your earlobe. "Nowhere near done with you yet."

~~~~~~

Chapter Four Coming Soon!

If you enjoyed this and haven't already checked out the rest of the connected stories you can find them here! -> Save Me From Myself

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Someday

Synopsis: The day of the Knight's Festival has come, and as it comes, secrets are revealed. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess (not so) Secret Relationship, Princess and Aemond thinking of their future, Fluff, PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I'm baaack!

“Seriously, Aemond… you must be more cheerful! You’re acting as if we are welcoming just mere nobles instead of your family, who you had not seen for moons— surely you miss them, do you not?” You sighed as you could feel the quiet contempt in your knight as you two stood by the castle gates waiting for the wheelhouse of House Targaryen. “Now you’re making me wonder if you would react so coldly if you did not see me for a long period of time,” You muttered and straightened your stance as you saw horses in the distance. “I will have no chance to miss you— I’m always by your side.” 

You turned to your sworn protector, who finally spoke after he had held back his tongue the past few days as he had grown quite annoyed with your insistence on inviting his family. He knew you came from a place of love— that you only wished for him to be surrounded by his kin as he was to receive such a great honor, so he held back his words as he did not want to unjustly pour out his grievances on you. 

“Able to speak again, now are we?” You questioned with a raise of your brow as you had practically been speaking to a brick wall days prior. You did not take it to heart as Aemond stayed silent in your presence— he did not ignore you, nor was he indifferent. You understood that he was just reigning in his frustration at your insistence on inviting his family to court. “Look… I’m sorry if I had pestered you with this matter and did not truly take your reluctance to do it seriously. But I just fear that if you do not invite them, you’ll regret it and…” You trailed, not wanting to list your second reason, but Aemond’s lilac eye implored you. “And what, princess?” He questioned as he slyly stepped closer to you. 

“And because I wish to know your family— more about you… I wish to know more about the man I love.” You whispered, and Aemond felt his heartbeat in his ears. Gods, he wanted to kiss you. To pull you flush against him and feel your lips dance their familiar dance. But as you two were exposed to the prying eyes of the court, Aemond could do nothing. He only took a mental note that when you two were once again in the privacy of your chambers, he would need to kiss you and show how much he loved you as well. Aemond took in a deep breath, restraining himself from doing something untoward, settling for the fact that it was him that you loved. Replaying the words you uttered in his mind to sedate himself. 

You placed a pleasing and welcoming smile on your lips as House Targaryen’s wheelhouse came into view, a bit nervous as you would meet Aemond’s family. You waited silently as squires brought out a platform, and the wheelhouse doors opened, revealing a man dressed in fine green fabric with an embroidered gold dragon on his chest. “Brother!” Aemond’s sibling yelled, his words almost in a drunken slur, but as he drew closer to your side and went to embrace Aemond, the smell of wine was prominent enough. “Let go, Aegon,” Aemond gritted as his drunken brother hugged him tightly. “Still resisting affection, I see— though I’m glad you have not changed,” He laughed as you stood by the side, chewing on your inner cheeks to hinder your amused smile. 

Aemond held a look of contempt, but from the side of his eye, he saw you trying to hold back your amused smile. “Princess, my brother, Lord Aegon Targaryen.” Aemond introduced his brother, who only now seemed to realize you were there. His violet eyes widened, and a smirk rose to his lips, a smirk that Aemond knew all too well and was not at all pleased about. “Your Highness,” he bowed and took your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Aemond resisted the urge to pounce on his brother as he had the gull to touch your skin. “Tales of your beauty are not at all lies— now I understand why my brother is so insistent on never leaving his post to pay us a visit,” He smiled, and Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened. You glanced over your knight, unaware that he was requested home and had been using his post as a reason not to leave. You could only smile at his brother as you could not think of a reply.  

Thankfully, the others that housed the carriage came into view. Your eyes first landed upon a woman with auburn hair that was wholly different from Aemond’s and his brother's. “Mother,” Aemond greeted, and you were shocked to find out that a lady who looked so young and with such different features was the woman who birthed Aemond. Aemond was not given a reply, his mother only cupping his cheek. “It’s good to finally see you,” She said quietly and slowly removed her hand from her son’s scarred cheek. You averted your eyes; in truth, you expected Aemond’s mother to show him a touch more affection, but you suppose each person had a different expression to show their love. Surely, you should have known that well by now. 

“Helaena,” Aemond then uttered, a ghost of a smile on his lips that only you could detect. You turned to the last person to exit the carriage, a girl a few years older than yourself with the same features as Aemond and their brother. There was a constant look of sadness in her eyes even though a slight smile was placed on her lips. You smiled as her violet eyes landed upon you, a slight nod of your head as an acknowledgment. “Princess, my mother, Lady Alicent Targaryen, and my only sister, Lady Helaena.” Aemond introduced as the two of them curtsied before you. “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” You smiled charmingly, and you hid your excitement as they returned it. “I’m well certain that you’re all weary from travel; if you’d like, I can escort you to your chambers,” You offered as you glanced towards the squires who unloaded their trunks. “It’s fine, princess; one of the maids could assist them,” Aemond said coldly as he passed his judging gaze towards his brother, who unshamelessly eyed you. 

“Nonsense! These are your most esteemed guests; we shall at least escort them to their chambers,” You say and lift partly the skirt of your dress to turn towards the castle, Aemond, and his kin quickly following behind. 

Aemond looked over you from behind as you walked with his mother and sister, touring them around the castle and introducing them to the other nobilities you passed. He forwent his usual place by your side so he could walk and watch over his drunken brother. “I must say, brother, you made quite a name for yourself even if you had only left home barely a year ago.” Aegon hummed as he followed the gaze of his brother, who was consistently close to the princess. “Could you believe it? A mere second son, set to inherit nothing— threw away the comforts of his life to become an impoverished knight and less than a year later is to be bestowed the highest possible recognition for a knight of the kingdom! My, my, brother… how is that even possible?” 

“If you don’t simply just sit on your ass and drink your weight in wine, anything is possible, brother— even if you are just a second son.” Aemond gritted as you glanced behind and smiled at him, as always. He could never understand how you did that— how, with just your smile, you could make him forget the anger and rage that was always constant in his veins. You had a possibility to calm his mind and body while barely moving— how is that? Aemond breathed out and bit his cheeks; maybe he shouldn’t wonder why and seek the question… perhaps he should just be grateful. 

“I am quite fond of your sister,” you suddenly said as it was only the two of you roaming the halls, having just left his kin to rest in their chambers. “Hm, Helaena is the kindest and most gentle of us… though her shyness does prevent other people from knowing her more,” You nodded and threaded closer to your knight, earnestly trying to dissolve the damned gap. “You’re kin is very much quiet… “ You observed and Aemond felt a smile twitch to his lips. “And I am well certain that that would not be a problem for you… you have a gift for making even the most stubborn and tight-lipped individuals speak— I should know.” You bit your lip and smiled widely at him. 

You and your knight were to proceed to your chambers, but as your name rang out through the halls, Aemond had a remembrance that that scene had happened before. You turned behind you, and your wide smile turned wider if it were possible, quickly holding onto your skirt and running to leap into your half-brother’s arms. Aemond stayed rooted in his spot as you were spun around while in the arms of your half-brother. Resisting the urge to grow jealous as he held you close, reminding himself that he was your brother. “You need to stop coming unannounced! We have not prepared your chambers!” You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm, a cross look on your face. “I’m fine anywhere, cousin. You could place me by the stable for all I care.” He smiled, and you shook your head, glancing behind only to realize your brother had yet to be introduced to your knight. 

“Cousin, this is Ser Aemond— he is to receive the Medal of Valor tomorrow.” You smiled and guided him closer to your knight, who bowed. “I know… everyone has heard of your heroicness in protecting the princess. Congratulations, Ser Aemond.” Your brother smiled, and you turned to Aemond, who looked like he was having difficulty returning it. You widened your eyes and implored him to remember decorum and that his coldness was certainly most unwarranted. “Thank you, my pr— my lor— I mean— thank you, my lord.” You bit your cheeks as your brother raised his brow as Aemond slipped with the deepest secret of your family. “Yes, well… I should find the king. I did promise to meet him the moment I arrived, but I knew you’d prefer to be the first to know that I am here.” You smiled further as your brother placed a chaste kiss on your temple before going about his way, leaving you and Ser Aemond. 

“I really thought you could keep a secret,” You sighed as you two continued on your way back to your chambers. “I can! I—I…” He stuttered and pursed your lips as if you had never witnessed him this flustered. “I got confused! I just noticed how similar he looks like the prince and how you have the same eyebrows,” He defended as he opened the door of your chambers for you. You breathed out a laugh and turned to him, flushing your body as you circled your arms around his neck, him taking the initiative to seal the gap between your lips. 

“You know, you are granted the days off during the feast; why are you still here?” You questioned as you two parted for air, Aemond’s eye still on your lips that had a nice hue of pink and was quick to grow slightly swollen. “Are you complaining?” He questioned as his arms around your waist pulled you closer as if it were still possible. “No, but I do wish you would rest.” You sighed, lowering your gaze as you toyed with the buttons of his armor. “I don’t need rest— I’d rather be with you,” You breathed out a laugh again, he always knew what to say to make your heart still and your knees weak. You smiled and rose to the tip of your toes to place a kiss on his cheek before parting from his arms, but he was quick to pull you back and kiss you again. 

Aemond could go on forever— could spend all of his days with you in his arms and his lips against yours. In fact, he intended on it. However, there was always something that pulled him out of his fantasy, this time, it was the knock on your door. You quickly parted your lips and ran to your sitting area. You took a book into your hands and opened it to a random page, pretending as if you were reading, and Aemond shook his head at how quick you were to act. “Come in,” you say distractedly as the second knock sounded out. 

“Ser Aemond… might you excuse us for a moment?” Your brother asked as he opened the door, your half-brother behind him, waiting for the knight’s response. Aemond glanced towards you, who gave him a nod as you straightened your back. “Of course, my prince,” He bowed, and your brother replaced his presence inside your chambers. Ameond stood closely stood by the door, eavesdropping on the conversation taht was to take place between you and your brother. 

“I hear you’ve been telling secrets,” The prince smirked as he stood before you. “I have not!” You quickly defended, looking in between your brothers. But they only raised a brow at you, a family trait, it would seem. “Fine! But it was only Ser Aemond! And we can trust him… he has been sworn to secrecy!” You defended. “Are your lips swollen?” Your other brother suddenly asked, forgetting the matter at hand. “What?” You felt your heart drop to your stomach. “Your lips… they’re bigger than usual.” He said, but luckily, your other brother intervened. “But why did you need to tell him?” 

You sighed and traced the embroidery of your dress. “He thought brother was a suitor, and it concerned him how all of you just let him walk me back to my chambers without an escort… I had to explain to him the situation and that nothing untoward was afoot,” you reasoned but the prince only shook his head. “Then say that he is our cousin!” 

“Even so! Cousins get married, I had to tell him that he was our brother… and I do not like lying…” you pouted. Your brother sighed and pinched his nose, “You must make sure that no one else knows, and Ser Aemond would not slip up again,” He warned, and you nodded your head fervently. 

You let out a breath as the matter came to a close, but you quickly felt anxious once more as your brother eyed you in question. “Your lips are swollen,” The prince observed, and your fingers consciously covered them. They felt warmer and plumper than usual. “Did you eat anything that does not agree with you?” He asked in concern, turning to your other brother, who had been studying to be a maester in the citadel. “Perhaps, maybe the cooks accidentally added shellfish to my soup,” you fibbed, already contradicting your earlier statement as you lied to your brothers.

“But do you not usually break into a rash when you consume shellfish, sister? That does not explain your swollen lips,” Your other brother remarked, going closer to you, and you traced the embroidery of your dress in nervousness once more. “I—I don’t know, perhaps it has taken into different effects,” You reasoned, and the prince shook his head, “I shall call the maester,” he muttered and moved towards the exit. “What? No!” You protested, not wanting to make a big fuss. 

“Sister, the last time you consumed shellfish, you were itching for a week! Your throat almost closed up— we cannot risk it. Especially when we have the feast later this week, I shall return quickly.” The prince said and quickly left, you only saw a quick glance of Ser Aemond waiting by the door as your brother left before it was closed once again. 

“You’re lying,” Your other brother suddenly remarked as it was only now the two of you. “W-what?” You asked in clear anxiousness. “Why would I lie about such a thing?” You questioned him, trying to be rid of the tone of guilt in your voice. He breathed out heavily and took a seat next to you. “Because you’re hiding something— look, sister, I have been studying the human body for years now, and I have seen all the ailments there are— the swelling of your lips is not at all an ailment.” He remarked, and you had no word of reply or defense as you were on the brink of being found out. 

Your brother sighed at your silence, glancing towards the closed door. “How long?” He questioned, and you took a moment to think about his words. “How long what?” You asked quietly. “Do not even try to deny it, sister… I’ve noticed it ever since the ball— I must say, he is quick to get jealous… which explains why you had to tell him our family secret.” You fisted the fabric of your dress at the knowing tone in your brother’s voice. 

“Tell me, how long?” He questioned again. You debated if you should tell him or deny the allegations. You knew the threat that would come if you told the truth, but at the same time, you were dying to be free of this secret, even if only one person knew. And it would seem it was only fair for your brother to know since you had told Ser Aemond about his own secret. “The day after father’s name day…” you whispered and lowered your head, fearing for his reaction. You hear him sigh. You could not even look at him; there was shame looming inside you, for you had been reduced to sneaking around and stealing kisses with your sworn protector. 

“I will not tell a soul… you have my word, sister.” Your brother then said, making you look up. “Really?” You asked, searching his eyes for any falsehood. He smiled, “You two can trust me— as I trust you both to keep my secret as well,” he said, taking hold of your cold, clammed hands. You let out a breath and embraced your brother tightly. “Thank you, brother. And I truly am sorry for revealing to him your secret,” He shook his head, “It’s fine, sister. But I must warn you to be cautious— overly cautious, in fact. If any of the courtiers came to know… gods forbid, your mother, you’ll be married to the closest lord she sets her eyes on!” You nodded fervently, already knowing the risks if ever you and Ser Aemond were found out. “I know, brother… and we are!” You say, but he only looked at you unconvinced as it was quick for him to realize what was happening between you and your knight. 

“You caught us on a bad day— but I swear, we are extremely cautious.” You defended. “I must say, you do surprise me. I wouldn’t think you would think him agreeable… certainly not enough to win your favor. Overly quiet and cold, and didn’t you say before that the man you wished to marry would have brown, curly hair and warm, kind eyes?” He mused, and you shook your head. “I was a child, brother; outward appearance does not matter much to me anymore, and he only appears as such, but once you get to know him… he’s kind, good-humored, and I…” You trialed. “You love him.” He finished your thought for you. You nodded, “I do.” You confirmed. “It’s easy to see, though it does concern me how easily I have realized it, but the court seems blind to the obvious… especially brother and father— which I suppose works in your favor.” He hummed, and you smiled. At least now you know someone will be on your side when the truth comes out. 

You stood by the right hand of your father as the ceremony began. Knights across the realm line up in order of seniority. Kneeling before your father as he knighted them with their new titles and bestowed them the Medal of Valor. Aemond was at the back of the line, those before him had served the realm for years, yet he had barely a year of service. All clamored before this fact, and you could plainly see the ladies of the realm eyeing your knight, with Ser Aemond being the youngest and, in your opinion, the most comely of all. You felt a persistent twinge of jealousy in you, but you had to disregard it and place a pleasing smile on your lips as it could not be obvious that you and your sworn protector had a deeper understanding, and you did not want to dampen the mood of this joyous day. Your legs were starting to grow tired as you waited for Aemond’s turn, and when there was only one knight between you and him, you straightened your stance and discreetly met his eye. 

As Aemond walked down the aisle, knowing at the end line you were waiting for him, he could not help but fantasize that it could be your nuptials. Even though you two stood at the opposite of the traditional way of a wedding, he disregarded that. He knew in himself that one day, it did not matter how— may it be a grand wedding with the whole kingdom’s eyes upon you two, or may it be a secret ceremony; he would marry you one way or another. He intended upon it, in fact. Everyone be damned, it did not matter that you were the princess and he was only your knight. One day, you two would be man and wife. But, of course, he’d have to wait. He’d wait all his life just as long at the end of it you would be his. 

Aemond smiled to himself as he realized his thoughts. Never had he thought he would act as such. To be so… sappy and sentimental, especially when it came to a girl. But here he was, in less than a year, you had changed him. And he must admit, though it was first an unwelcomed change, he was now quite fond of it. Because if it weren’t for you, he would never know such profound love. 

When it was Aemond’s turn, he bowed before the king and kneeled. You waited for your father to say the words and bestow him his new title and the medal of valor, but his silence made you reluctantly turn away from your knight. “I think it best you do it, my darling… he is your knight, after all,” The king smiled, and your eyes widened at the suddenness of his decision. You glanced towards the hall, expecting gazes planted upon you as your father tried to hand you the sword. “I—I don’t know the words,” You reasoned, still not memorizing the phrases he had repeated the whole afternoon. Your father smiled at you fondly, “It’s fine, I shall recite it once more.” He said, and you hesitantly took the sword and took your father’s place in the middle. Ser Aemond now kneeling before you.

You felt your stomach twist as you could not help but fantasize that this was him kneeling before you as he asked for your hand. Your hand held the hilt of the sword tighter. It was a fantasy that you could only hope and pray that would become your reality. One day. You swore to yourself. One day, I’ll be his, and he’d be mine completely… no more pretense. 

You lifted the sword as your father began to recite the words, but the world faded as you locked with Aemond’s lilac gaze. You tried to tone down your smile as he smirked at you, a devilish smirk that only you knew the reason and meaning of. 

Aemond stood straight as he was knighted with his new title. He watched keenly as the sword in your hand was exchanged for the medal. Aemond’s eye never left your frame as you walked towards him and pinned the medal on his armor. Aemond cursed that this was the only acceptable moment for you two to be so close with the eyes of the realm upon you both. But he let go of any frustrations and decided to savor the ever-so-quick moment. 

As you stepped back, the hall erupted in cheers, but you two were deaf as you both were too consumed with the vision that one day, their cheers would be because of your union. Someday. You both swore. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Finish Line || LS2

Summary: A farewell fic to Logan because I'm a sookie and miss him already. Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader (living in America) WC: 4k

Summer Break 2021

Your mother always said, “Nothing good is easy and nothing easy is good.” To an eighteen year old fresh out of high school you thought she was referring to studying and exam results, not the more impactful experiences you would face once the red brick walls were left in the rear view mirror. 

It would only take a matter of weeks to learn the real meaning.

Loving Logan wasn’t easy but it was impossible to stop the feeling of falling that came soon after meeting him. From the moment you met there was an indescribable connection but the paths of your future were heading in completely different directions and you knew at the end of summer you would say your goodbyes.

In the meantime you would enjoy what the weather had to offer and what better way to emancipate yourself from the innocence of youth and broadcast to the world that you were an adult than a girls road trip to Miami? You may not have been old enough to drink but that didn’t stop the college guys on summer vacation from keeping you and your friends well supplied. 

Looking back, it only proved how young and naive you were. 

“Dalt, I really shouldn’t be here,” Logan complained as a red cup was thrust into his hand. “I could get in so much trouble for this.”

“Relax, bro, you’ll be fine.” His older brother clapped him on the back happily. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The beach house was right on the waterfront and Logan stepped out onto the white sand to dip his toes in the warm water. He didn’t know who’s family the place belonged to but Dalton seemed to know everyone by name. It only made him feel even more left out and he thought maybe he should have just stayed in England for the summer break. 

The house was stifling with the humid temperatures compounding to a sauna with all the bodies inside. The beer had started off cool but it had warmed in your hands and began to taste disgusting so you abandoned it into the hands of a stranger passing by who swiftly chugged it back before shouting the Greek alphabet you assumed was the name of his frat house. You had certainly bitten off more than you could chew and debated catching a Greyhound bus home where you felt safe but you wouldn’t ditch your friends who were absolutely in their element.

The beach wasn’t like any you had seen before arriving in Miami. The sand bars were tiny pockets of islands and each property seemed to be its own space divided by narrow canals that lead to dry docks for their expensive boats. 

“Mind if I join you?” you asked the stranger who sat in the sand at the water's edge. It was impossible to ignore each other’s presence when the rising tide had left such little space.

“It’s a free country,” he said with a small smile, his palm quickly swiping away the picture he had drawn in the sand. 

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes it feels like a prison. Sorry, that was really morbid.”

He laughed and tipped his head back to the sun that still beat down despite being late in the afternoon. “You’re not wrong though. I love coming home, but sometimes I’m glad I don’t live here anymore. I don’t know how to fit in with that,” he said looking back at drunken revelers who had stripped down to their swimwear despite having no inclination to actually enter the water. 

He looked like the rest of the guys there: tanned skin over a toned body and dirty blonde hair hidden by a cap he wore backwards. The southern drawl also confirmed the fact he called this place home. 

“Where do you fit in then?”

His shoulders shrugged as he picked at a desiccated chain of Neptune’s necklace that had washed up on the beach. He busied himself with plucking each individual bead off the seaweed and flicking it back to the water. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“A Formula One racing driver, or a fisherman.”

You buried your toes in the sand, wiggling them to dig deeper where it was cooler. “I thought the all-american dream was to be an astronaut?”

You met his blue eyes and saw the amusement that sparkled in them. “I’m afraid of heights,” he admitted with a grin before he held out his hand. “I’m Logan.”

“I think we are beyond names here, I already know your hopes and dreams,” you teased, shaking his hand. 

“But I don’t know yours, yet.”

“I can give you my name, but as for hopes and dreams, I have no idea what I want to be. I’m still trying to figure that out.” You realised his hand was still in yours and gave it another small shake. “I’m Y/N.”

As the sun fell below the horizon the party grew larger and soon it spilled into the slice of paradise you had carved out with Logan. Sand was kicked up as two guys tackled each other to the ground and Logan threw a protective arm around you before they could crash into your side.

“Back it up bro,” he said as he rose to his feet and pulled you up too, tucking you in behind his back. “You could have hurt somebody.”

“Aw, Sargeant, is that your girlfriend?”

Logan ignored them and turned to check you were alright. His eyes scanned over your body and slowed on their ascent before he cleared his throat and met your eyes again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You scanned the crowd and spotted two of your friends dancing and the other sat on some guy's lap, smiles on all their faces. You couldn’t disappear and make them worry but you didn’t want to stay as the party only grew more chaotic. “Yes, please, I’ll just tell my friends I’m leaving.”

You weren’t going to attempt to get amongst the gyrating bodies so instead headed to Dakota. The guy sitting beneath her noticed your arrival first and grinned at Logan as he stepped in beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You’re leaving aren’t you? Well, you lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“You two know each other?” you asked. 

“Only since birth,” Logan answered. “This is my brother, Dalton. Dalton, this is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said before turning your attention to your friend. “I’m going to head off, Kote. Logan said he can drop me off at the apartment after dinner.”

“Are you sure? I can take you back if you want.”

You laughed and leaned into Logan, enjoying the warmth that came as his arm curled around your waist. “I’m good, someone needs to make sure those two get back.”

You both looked at the twins who had found dance partners and knew the rented 4 bedroom apartment was probably going to double in residents by morning. With a resigned sigh that she didn’t really feel as the group mother, Dakota nodded. “I’ve got them, you two have fun.”

The wink she sent you off with made your cheeks heat but you hadn’t actually planned on doing what the action implied. Of course Logan was attractive, and the thought of taking him to your bedroom was one that had you melting, but you were quite happy just enjoying his company too. 

“Are you hungry? I know this great spot but it’s a bit of a drive from here.”

Out in the street where the sounds of the thumping bass couldn’t reach your stomach rumbled and you smiled sheepishly. “Just a little.”

The restaurant he knew was on Key Largo, about an hour south of where the party was in Miami Beach and you were amazed by how many bridges had been built to connect the keys. It would have felt a bit scary driving over the ocean if it wasn’t for Logan recounting stories of growing up in the state. It was a good distraction to listen to the fondness in his tone as he remembered fishing off the now-closed piers that he pointed out. 

“I think this is where you fit in,” you said as he cruised along the highway in his pickup truck, the radio quietly playing an RnB station in the background. It was warm enough that the window was down and the breeze blew his hair back like a runway model.

He glanced across the car and lifted a questionable brow. “In Florida?”

“No! Behind the wheel. You look, I don’t know, comfortable? No, content, that’s the word.” 

On the beach Logan had shared how he was halfway through the season of Formula 3 in Europe and had hopes to join an F1 team in the future. It was also when he mentioned returning to the country he currently lived in, four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Despite only just meeting him, you felt the four week countdown arriving like a dark storm cloud.

Those four weeks flew by almost as quickly as you fell in love. 

Summer Break 2024

The soy milk screeched and you winced at the sound before saving the new girl, and the coffee, from the machine. Thankfully it wasn’t scorched as the shop was already full with the busy morning foot-traffic and you wanted to keep it flowing for the customer’s sake. 

“Soy latte with a shot of hazelnut?” A hand went up and you passed the takeaway cup over. “Have a nice day.”

You looked at the next order stuck to the bench and immediately searched for the customer, a smile splitting your face when you found him. “Baby, you’re home! Why didn’t you call?”

Logan ducked under the staff counter and met your embrace with strong arms that pulled you to your tiptoes. “I called, but you must have been busy here. God, it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

You checked your phone in the pocket of your apron and saw the missed call before slipping it over your head. “Marie, can you keep an eye on everything?”

“Yeah, course, hun, take your time,” the part time barista said with a wave. “Welcome home, Logan.”

“Thank you.” 

You dragged Logan eagerly through the swing door that stated ‘staff only’ and past the break room to the disused office at the back. “I’ve missed you so much,” you managed to say between the desperate kisses you shared as he kicked your door closed. 

“Missed you too.”

Your hands reached beneath his shirt and he chuckled breathlessly as he caught them before they could move any further. “Tempting, sweetheart, but not here.”

You pouted as you draped your arms around his neck instead and held him tight. “I have the studio booked in 20 minutes, did you want to come?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the stupid question and didn’t bother to answer as he tucked his hands into the back of your jeans and buried his face in your hair. “You smell like blueberry muffins,” he hummed happily. 

“I can steal one,” you offered but when you pulled away he quickly pulled you back with a shake of his head.

“Diet.”

You grabbed the flesh on his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “You’re perfect, baby, one muffin isn’t going to change that - but it will make you happier. Go grab a seat in the staff room.”

You walked him back down the hall and let him settle into the couch while you grabbed a muffin from the front counter. Most of the rush had quickly cleared and with the lull in orders you made him his favourite drink. 

“You spoil me, sweetheart,” he said with a gratefully smile as you placed the plate and cup on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” You sank into the couch beside him and watched him pick apart the muffin, finding all the blueberries to eat first. He could feel your eyes on his hands as they fiddled with crumbs but before he worked up the courage to explain why he caught a flight two days earlier than planned. “What’s going on, baby?”

He exhaled a heavy sigh and wiped his hands clean before taking yours. “I think it’s over.”

Your heart cleaved apart and your ears started ringing as your world came crashing down. There was only one semester left in your art programme before all the plans the two of you made would come to life - plans that started with moving to England with Logan. Plans that were crumbling down.

“It’s over?” you repeated as silent tears streaked your face and your hands slipped from his.

Horror bled into Logan’s features and he snatched your hands back, placing them over his chest where his heart beat rapidly with panic. “Not us, never us,” he rushed with a harsh shake of his head. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are my everything.”

You sagged with relief as he wiped your eyes but the relief was short lived as you understood what he meant and the phantom pain in your chest returned. “Have you spoken to James?”

He nodded and leaned into your touch as your palms ran up his chest to cradle his face. “It’s not good.”

To hear the defeat in his voice was something you never wished to hear again. It was a sound that no 23 year old should make, he was too young to feel the immense pressure he was under and a weaker man would have been broken by it. But Logan was strong, mentally and physically - he would recover from this, you would make sure of it.

“Come on,” you whispered as you rose to your feet and tugged his hands. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But you have class.”

You grabbed your handbag from your locker and tossed him the car keys. “This is more important, and I can paint anywhere.”

—

The drive to Miami took most of the day and the frown on Logan’s forehead seemed to soften as the arid air turned humid and the paddocks turned to swamp before he sped through Alligator Alley. The top 40 charts played quietly on the radio and Logan hummed along with the ones he liked while he held your hand on your thigh. 

A contented sigh of relief exhaled from deep in Logan’s chest as the sunset and the city lights illuminated the horizon. Though he was tired to his bones, just the sight of his home was enough to rejuvenate him and he sat up a little straighter before taking the exit that would lead him to Fort Lauderdale. 

Madelyn and Daniel were already expecting Logan and the front door opened before he could turn the engine off. It had been a while since they last had Logan home and you felt a little guilty since most of his returns to home soil were to visit you instead, but they didn’t hold it against you. Madelyn was just happy that there was someone who loved and supported Logan as much as she did.  

It was immediately clear that she wasn’t aware of his current struggles as you saw him hide behind a confident smile as she asked how everything was going. 

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he admitted as he closed his bedroom door after dinner. 

You placed your bag on the floor and took a seat at the headboard before patting the spot beside you. Logan flopped down on the bed and rested his head on your thighs while his long legs hung over the edge, looking up as if you had all the answers. 

“You could never disappoint them, Lo, they just want you to be happy. And, you're worrying about things that haven’t even come to pass. We don’t know what the second half of the season will bring.”

“I know you are being reasonable, but I can’t help thinking this is the end. Everyone else thinks so too.”

“You mean everyone on X, formally known as twitter,” you said with a roll of your eyes that made him chuckle. “How about no social media for the whole break? Just disconnect from it all for four weeks.”

“And what happens at the end of the break?” he asked quietly, sensing deja vu from the last time he asked this three years ago. It was an eerily similar state too with his head on your legs but you were on the white sands instead of a bed. You had already fallen in love but he was due to fly back to Europe and you would be getting in the car with your friends and heading home. He had forever changed you that summer.

You combed your fingers through his hair as you relived the same memory. “We will be grateful for the time we had together.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he sat up so he could pull you onto his lap. “I’m not letting you go again.”

“I should hope not,” you stated as your knees settled either side of his thighs and you reached into his pocket to fish his phone out. “Now say goodbye to this, I am having you all to myself.”

He plucked the phone from your fingers and tossed it to the side table before putting all those glorious muscles to good use. The room spun until he caged your body beneath his and he gently kissed his way across your collarbone. “You already have me, sweetheart.”

–

A sick twisting feeling gripped your gut as you waved goodbye to Logan through misted eyes. No matter what you had said, you could feel his stress growing as the break came to an end and now he was going back alone. You wished you could go with him.

The drive back to your apartment was too quiet but you couldn’t listen to the radio because the songs he would have hummed to would only make you miss him more. It always took days, weeks even, to reacclimate yourself to the loss of his presence when he left. It never got easier but the memories made were worth it.

The days dragged by as classes began again and the repetitive routine of life was reestablished. Finally it was the weekend and you could curl up on the couch and watch Logan’s practice on F1TV while you were surrounded by paintings of him. There were two new additions that had come back from Miami, one capturing his happiness as he reeled in a bluefish and the other capturing his perfect features as he sunbathed shirtless, that one was purely indulgent.

“Oh no, Sargeant has taken a big shunt into the barriers there.”

Your feet slammed to the floor as you jumped out of your seat and stumbled closer to the tv as if you could reach through it and help, but you were helpless to watch as Logan remained in the car in the middle of the track - red flags waving. 

“Come on, baby, get out of there,” you begged as you heard his radio saying he was okay, but then the back of the car ignited into flame. You were screaming for him to get out as George’s car rolled by, his hands gesturing wildly for Logan to get out too before he finally was free of the seat harness and jumping out over the halo. 

You finally breathed a sigh of relief but it didn’t last as the camera cut to Logan leaning on the barriers, his head hung in defeat despite the helmet hiding his face. You knew your boyfriend better than anyone, you knew exactly what was going on inside his head and you knew you had to do something.

The credit card Logan had given you years ago had been left discarded in the back of your underwear drawer. He said it was for you to use but you had never been with him for the money and even as a broke uni student you hadn’t used it once. But this was an emergency, and if you were ever going to use it then you could be damn sure it was going to be spent on him.

One quick email was sent to your professor begging for an extension due to a family emergency before you packed a bag and booked the first flight out to Amsterdam.

With shaking hands you typed a message: I’m so glad you got out of there, baby. I’m on my way and I love you so much xxx

You knew he wouldn’t be able to reply for a little while since he would have to get back to the team garage, and there would be other responsibilities first like having a medical check and debrief, but you sent it anyway along with the flight numbers so he knew where you would be and when. It was going to be a long day with the 13 hours of flights plus the change in timezone but nothing was going to keep you from getting to Logan before the race tomorrow.

–

A stranger with a whiteboard greeted you at the airport and the exhaustion of the trip faded away when you reached the paddock with a pass in hand and stepped into the Williams garage. Bodies of mechanics moved in sync as they rushed around the car preparing it for the race that was due to start in a few short hours but it was one man that was standing among them that drew you closer. 

“Lo,” you greeted softly behind him on raised tiptoes. 

A wide smile split his face as he turned to embrace you, lifting your feet off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Hellow, sweetheart,” he breathed against your skin before inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume. 

Your hands tightened on his waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?”

He pulled back and his smile faltered. “I’m better now that you’re here.” 

You reached up to trace the curve of his cheek where his smile had been but his team principal called his name before you could feel the shadow of his beard on your palm. “Can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked Logan before spotting you, a flicker of surprise on his face. “Hello, Y/N, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“You too, James,” you replied politely before stepping out of Logan’s arms and giving him a little nudge in the right direction. “I’ll wait over in hospitality.”

Logan spent what time he could with you, reassured by the feel of your arms wrapped around his neck and your cheek pressed to his as you sat on his lap in the single chair that furnished his driver room. The thin walls did little to dampen the noise of the motorhome and the crowd beyond but for a few minutes Logan could forget it all and the pressure that came with it - until the clock ticked away the precious minutes alone and reality returned.

“I have to score a point today,” he whispered like he was confessing a sin and he tipped his head back to stare at the roof. “No point, no seat. That's the deal.”

“Can they do that with your contract?”

“They can do whatever they want, sweetheart. I’m lucky they let me go this long without contributing.”

You cupped his face and tipped it forward so he was forced to look you in the eyes. “There are more ways to contribute to the team than just scoring points. You spend hours in the simulator every week so they can get their precious data.”

“And then I go and cost them $250k when I crash,” he laughed humorlessly and dropped his forehead to yours. “I think this is it. I’m tired and it’s so hard to enjoy it now. That’s the worst part out of all of it. I used to like my job, it was all I wanted to do.”

Your thumbs caught the tears that clung to his lower lashes. “What do you want now?”

“I honestly have no idea, I just know I want to be wherever you are.”

A knock at the door interrupted the promise you were going to make and someone in a William’s shirt said it was time to head back to the garage before ducking back out of the room.

“I love you” you whispered between the kisses you traced across the bow of his lips. “I want you to go out there today and forget James and points and all that stuff and just enjoy the race. I have watched you give everything to this team but today I want you to be selfish, okay? Enjoy it out there or it’s all for nothing, no matter the outcome. And when you get out of that car I will be waiting for you, arms wide open.”

Logan closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath before he captured your lips in a passionate kiss that left you both breathless. Resolute and proud, he stood up and placed you on his feet before grabbing his cap and slapping it on his head. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 30

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds your letter.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Canon- typical violence. Blood. Loss. Everything. (I'm so sorry.)

Song Rec: Chasing Cars by Sleeping At Last

Authors Note: A little short, a little specific, but I hope you guys like it. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“Thank you Bucky. For everything.”

Bucky nearly collapsed as he reached the alleyway. Sirens wailed in the distance. 

It was empty.

With trembling hands, Bucky followed the trail of blood to the hole in the wall. The loose brick laid on the floor, stained red. He swallowed the bile in his throat as he followed the streaks of crimson.

Where was she?

The old fire escape ahead ached and creaked. Its ladder hung low. 

Bucky stood below, staring at the rusted metal. People from the end of the alley whispered and pointed around the street, sharing the news of what occurred. 

Bucky curled a cold fist around the first hinge. He pulled himself up, his stomach turning as he felt your chilling blood smear into his palms. 

At the top, all he found was the shattered pieces of the radio. His breath hitched in his chest. 

No.

He called out your name, his voice echoing and bouncing off the walls. He dragged his fingers through the wet stain dripping from the brick wall. 

He was too late.

His knees hit the unsteady metal floor. 

A feeling he’d long grown used to welled in his chest, spreading and poisoning his veins. Loss. But this was different. This was fresh. This was new. 

This was you.

This was grief.

The team never came. 

He sat there, on the floor of his once shared home, for hours. He stated at his trembling hands, blinking through a haze. He could still feel the curdled splotches of your blood against his palms. He could still hear your voice.

He waited, almost hoping they’d show up. But they never did. Not the next day, or the day after that. 

He was alone, and safe, and it made him hate himself in an entirely new way. 

He sat beside the bed, staring at the dent in the mattress from your body. You were just another one of his victims. And perhaps, the most innocent of all. 

The most kind woman he’d ever known. The most understanding. The gentlest. The only person he’d felt safe with in decades. 

Gone.

Because of him.

He stared, chewing his lip until it bled, the sound of your voice echoing in his mind. 

But then, he saw it.

Peaking out beneath the mattress, was the soft corner of a page. Its white color stood out against the stained floorboards. He reached, tugging the page out from beneath the bed. It was two pieces of printer paper, its edges frayed. There was a crease across the center, like it was folded and unfolded over and over. 

He turned it over, and saw the wispy handwriting.

Dear Bucky,

Hi. I feel weird writing to you like this, knowing you’re sitting a few feet away from me. But I feel like I have to. I wanted to write this because I honestly have no idea what's going to happen next. I never have any idea what the next minute will hold. I don’t know when it will happen, but I feel this constant, looming anxiety that something awful is going to happen. Someone might pop out of the bathroom one day with a gun. Or someone will be waiting for us in the laundromat and have the place surrounded. I don’t know when, but I know this isn’t forever. So, I wanted to tell you all the things I feel we never say. 

You’re the only person in my life that will know me in my last moments, and I want you to actually know me. I want someone to know me. So here it is. All the things too small to tell you, too insignificant, and maybe even stupid. My name is Y/n L/n. My birthday is XX.XX.XXXX. My favorite color is green.

I have two cats that I’ve had since I was in high school, and they are my everything. When I was a kid I wanted to be a pirate and go on adventures. I guess I can say a bit of that dream came true. I love Italian and Mexican food. I love dancing, but I’ve never done it, not really. There's a lot of things in life I’ve always wanted to do, but been too afraid to go for. I don’t have many friends, I never have. But I’m glad to say that I consider you, James Bucky Barnes, to be my friend. I barely know you, and I doubt I ever will, but I trust you with my life. When I first met you, I was terrified of you and everything around me. But now I know that you would never willingly hurt me, or anyone else. You’re a good man. No matter what you might say. 

I want you to know me, but I also want you to know what I think of you. I’ve spent every day with you, sharing a space, a bathroom, a captivity. I know you, maybe not to the bone, or in the little ways that I might want, but I know you. You’re good. You want to be good. You make my days easier, and I look forward to talking to you every morning. Maybe it’s because without you, I’d go insane. But still. I want to. Bucky, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Whether it was out of guilt, or because you wanted to, you’ve done so much for me. 

You saved my life. You helped me keep living. You’ve been kind to me, when all I felt was fear. You’re someone I care about very much. 

I hope you know that you’re a good man. I hope you know that everything you touch doesn't break. It's not evil, because you’re not evil. You want to be better, and that alone makes you better. 

Thank you, Bucky, for everything.

Bucky let out a shaky breath into his palm as he reread the last line. You never finished writing it, he concluded, from the large space left on the page and the fact that you hadn’t signed it. You must have been writing it at night, when he was asleep. 

He never noticed. 

But he saw the watermarks. The spots where your tears stained the paper. He saw where your fingers worried the corners of the papers until they frayed. He saw the way your handwriting got messier. The way your hand must have shook.

He dropped the papers onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. 

You were gone.

A/N: Short but ouch. The personal details in the letter, if they don't match with your just pretend they were something else, haha.

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs @justachillgirllui @avaout

[orelicia]

"You get periods?!" By MC <3

Xeijun's Letters: My first post, I guess? Anyways, thank you so much to @tsukii0002 for inspo for these scenarios. Hope you like them. I added a bit to them for my own personal headcanon.

|| Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 ||

Warnings: kidnapping, cannibalism, gouging out eye, petty, obnoxious, vanitious Lucifer, personal headcanons. Almost fem! coded reader? Because I'm fem...so. A bit OCC due to hormonal imbalance in our bois.

Lucifer

Walking around, you pulled out yet another feather from your hair..Searching for Lucifer on his periods was dire work, you could have become an investigator. EASILY! With him and his nest revolving around the hidden rooms which move around House of Lamentation, it's like 'Where's Waldo', but with Lucifer to comfort him.

Having almost beaten Beel in eating just a few days ago, with chewing something every few seconds; chips, cup ramen, dinner left-overs, five tiffins packed for RAD, demonus frozen into cubes for him to chew on, some demon who pissed him off?...And now, he's nowhere to be seen, not touched a single morsel of food..How great.

Huffing you pushed the brick in the hallway which was a doorway, hoping it'll lead to where you need to go and thankfully it did...except it looked like, well...a Rapunzel's tower, without the Rapunzel or the beauty of it and made from whatever, as you huffed,

"Lucifer! You here?!" you called, as Lucifer's head popped, upside down. On his periods, he definitely had more confidence, more vanity, cared less on what others thought and was so much more obnoxious..kind of disgusting if not for you almost finding it hot,

"Oh, missing me already?" he asked, smirking, "How darling of you to do that~" his wings ruffling, the barely light coming from this brick wall room putting light on his horns and wings, both of glowing softly iridescent a baby blue almost.

You sighed, as the moment he ruffled his wings a few more feathers got off, it's like having a cat, if you were honest. His wings spread over the width of the room, almost 10 feet, as he smiled and jumped down from his upside down position from the edge of his nest.

How lovely it was when his eyes fell on a strand of white which he plucked off, his nails decorated red with skulls from Asmo a few days ago when Lucifer had been admiring himself in a mirror, as he looked at it, his white scleras almost fading like ink in water to become black,

"Hanging out with Solomon, were you?" he asked, hissing as you sighed, groaning, of-course he figured it out. His senses were out of this world, everything was out of sight, but nothing out of eyes or mind, it seemed.

A guttural noise rumbled in his throat, which almost shook the ground, it felt like as he scoffed, like a petulant child and within a blink of an eye, had got over the edge of his nest, back into the depths of comfort. Mad at you for hanging out with that shady sorcerer.

As you sighed, "come on, peacock boy. Pull me into your nest, I went to him for help. I promise, he didn't do anything.." you said, looking for an opening, which ou did with Belphie's head stuck through and mouth taped, as you hitched back.

"Lucifer...What's Belphie doing here?" you asked, as his hand pushed out a large hoodie which you were sure belonged to Beel from the smell of curry on it, as his head poked out a bit, though his horns got stuck,

"He was sleeping in the hallway, I think he was cold. My little brother" he said, pouting almost..Oh how he changes during periods, gross.

As you sighed, pushing Belphie in as you poked in through the hole despite Lucifer's protest, as he placed Belphie through the opening again to block it up as you rolled your eyes.

You almost felt compelled to pull him into a hug like usual, but didn't because the last time you did...Let's just say, you ended up a scar across your face and an eye gouged out on accident, thought it was easily fixed by one of Solomon's potions and frankly, you didn't want a repeat of it as you shove some cotton into Belphie's ears and made place and sat down on the ground.

Lucifer's wings ruffled a bit, as one of his wings gently stroked you as you smiled, "I just went to Solomon to get my scar fixed" you assured him with a smile, as he grudgingly shifted from his sitting position to look back, his scleras black as he glared at you, though you could see them soften.

"Fine.." he scoffed, as he extended one hand and you crawled closer, shifting to snuggle again him as he huffed, pulling you to fall back against the pillows in his nest. Oh my Diavolo...Lucifer was burning and freezing, almost too high or too cold...You couldn't tell if you were to shiver or remove your shirt.

And he sat there, patiently as if waiting for something, his wings ruffling every few minutes as he waited intently, while you were busy coughing out feather plumes and feather strands blowing them away from your face.

As his face contorted into a frown when you were taking so long and didn't even look like it as he shifted his wings back, crossing his arms over the loose black shirt he had been wearing, feeling weird feeling of insecurity and sadness pool in his gut as he waited and waited and waited, as you seemingly didn't notice.

Lucifer ruffled his wings again, hoping you'll get the hint...you didn't.

His moments of no sleep, eating too much and hormones over the place led to anxiety and slight paranoia. As he almost feel bugs on his skin, before he adamantly spoke. How dare his favourite human not appreciate him? Almost the perfect being in all realms,

"What? Why are you not complimenting me?" he asked, words laced with venom as you looked up.

Oh...Poor Lucifer. You almost had to laugh as you snuggled against him more, removing your jacket,

"Your wings..They look nice Lucifer. So shiny and colourful!" you smiled, admiring your the way the baby blue shined different shades as he proudly smugly grinned, as he hugged you, almost purring softly, thankfully Belphie woke up somewhere and teleported out or something, cause there was an opening.

"You're not leaving. Ever" he whispered smugly, as if he read your thoughts about leaving, "we can buy cervical pillows then, hm?" you suggested as he nodded, purring just slightly louder.. As you smiled, leaning back against him as he wrapped his wings around your,

"So...Can I leave? I think I'm gonna pee my pants.."

"No."

Mammon

You sighed, groaning and putting aside your plate of some human world fruit Barbatos was so nice to bring to you, as you were stuck on the second floor of Mammon's room, above the car, but also in the high walled nest of his, for some reason.

He got too protective yesterday when you weren't there when he came home ince you were in the toilet and he went into a literal panic attack and the house had caught FIRE...somewhere, don't ask..

So you were stuck, cleaning the place up a bit, lights of his dimmed like Levi's usually was, but without the glowing tank..only soft golden fairy lights you'd convince him to put up for you to live in and not go insane.

The past few days Mammon had somehow put too much attention on everything and yet no attention at all, he got 6/100 in maths, which i weird cause he got the best marks in maths of-course with a test which said grimm everywhere.

And so, you thought you'd have time until you learnt the day his period came, so you were stuck in Mammon's room.

You had already stepped on a little snow glove, a shiny golden painted lego, screamed your lungs almost when stepping on a foil ball and even a necklace clasp which was a bit too shiny.

You sighed in relief, when Mammon did come home, his eyes glowing golden bright and pupils round and covering his irises as he lunged at you, jumping onto you and kissing your lips roughly.

"loveyouloveyouloveyou!—I got human a little shiny thing!" he said brightly, after pulling away and digging into his large pockets to pull out a tiny little D, possibly a low level one and an Envy one, so the poor thing was nervous and almost thee size of your palm

"Now ya won't be hu'gry" Mammon said proudly with a bright smile, showing off his fangs as you smiled awkwardly, taking the little D in your hands and setting him free when Mammon wasn't looking as he was ready to be showered in praise as you took a step back, stepping on a little jewel and wincing as you groaned

You seriously needed to clean this nest...

Until then, you held the jewel in your hand and decided to present it to Mammon, as you smiled to him, holding out your open palm with the jewel resting in it and you swear you saw angels singing for you in his eyes with his pupils becoming hearts and eyes almost tear up!

Mammon jumped onto you, his leathery wings fluttering behind him like little fly's wings in excitement as he peppered kisses, like all others. He got too open to show feelings during his period, as you gently pulled off a few wings you knew were itchy with the way they got stuck in the spikes on his wings and threw them off somewhere...

He let out a soft whistle, almost a squawk like noise from his throat. It was high pitched and yet gentle, like crows during a rainy night as he snuggled against you, looking at you as if asking "Did ya miss The Great Mammon while he away?" as his eyes looked at you expectantly as you smiled, gently tapping on his back and wings as they ruffled,

"I missed the Great Mammon SOOO MUCH while he away!" you said, hugging him tightly as he snuggled into you as if trying to bury himself into your skin.

Another thing was, Mammon refused to be in his normal form, walking around in his demon form, scaring the shit out of most, since he was mostly in demon form when angry and everyone assumed he was livid.

So his hands hastily worked on the buckles of his jacket in his demon form, for one. still snuggling his head under your jacket, though his hands clumsily worked, barely doing anything as he almost growled in annoyance and desperation.

Seeing your boyfriend, Mammon's fruitless efforts, you smiled and sighed, lifting your loose shirt you were wearing a bit, one of his, as he immediately wrapped his arms around you and while one hand ran through his hair while his hands held onto you under your shirt, the other worked to gently unbuckle the straps of his leather jacket.

Gently undoing it, it fell off as he snuggled into you, burying his face in your tummy while his hands held you tightly, feeling the skin-to-skin, as he gently as he growled and whistled gently as if telling you about his day as he rubbed his wrists or his neck gently on your wrists or neck, as if spreading his scent and presence to you.

While you gently preened Mammon's wings, pulling of wings which were growing weird and sticking to his wings to make it hard for him while fixing others which were growing correctly,

"Oh, how in Diavolo's name did you preen your wings before?" you asked, grinning softly while you gently fed him slices of the fruit while he fed you, though it was a bit sour for him while it was sweet to you.

The Great Mammon was just so happy to be with his human, purring like a little corvid rumbled in happiness at times. Like right before they cawed, it sounded like that, his eyes round and glowing, like a baby crow's...Oh how lovely!~

Leviathan

You sighed, feeling the humidity already stick to you as you entered Leviathan's room. Levi seemingly buried under piles of blankets and clothes in his bathtub which was spilling water, in-fact the entire floor was covered in water, his PC and everything wrekept on loft stands with water resistance spells, so those were safe..

But it did feel like Levi's aquarium had spilled overwater, as you walked past the watering some slippers, which did little since water touched your feet anyway, you gently whistled and called,

"Levi? Levi! You here?" you softly asked, digging into the tub, as your hands brushed similar scales of Levi's tail, before it slipped out of your hands far deeper than what the tub's actual depth was..

You figured he was down there, in the underwater caves which his tu was enchanted to lead him to as you pushed off the blankets a bit, turning off thee humidifier and applied a underwater breathing spell, just in-case.

As you called to him, as softly was possibly, as gently as possibly, having not seen him and only heard his hisses and hums and grunts, you'd gotten well to understand him non-verbally, but you hadn't seen him in a long while, sometimes asleep or sometimes not even in the tub.

"Levi?~ Sweetheart, come on up.." you gently called, when you saw the tub, inky navy blue show the glow of a gently snake-like swish in it, as you sighed in relief. Levi's tail..

"Sweetheart? Darling?..Come on up, I wanna see ya" you whispered gently, as Levi's head gently poked out, his hair was a bit disheveled and almost cut short. His eyes glowing gentle iridescent purple-orange with his scleras black, as he softly hissed.

His tongue softly came out, almost forked like a snake's as his horn also glowed gently, his scales on his neck, throat and cheeks glowed in the almost dimmed out lights of his room, no light on, the aquarium's dim glow enough to give him a headache at times.

"There you are, Levi.." you softly cooed as he let out a soft hiss, almost shifting back, as if saying "You're only pitying me by being here, aren't you?"

His skin was feverish, as if he'd not been intaking enough nutrients, which he probably was since Lucifer did tell you Levi'd be so insecure, he'd refuse to do basic things.

But you ignored his hiss and gently shifted closer, extending your hand and letting him snuggled his face against it very hesitantly, cupping his face and snuggling against it while you were placing a moist towel on his head to cool him down.

It was so nice to see your boyfriend was okay at-least, thank Diavolo..

His horns branched out, almost majestically large, like ones you'd expect from Levi as his title of "Devildom's Navy Commander" and he glowed, his fingers long and pointed with glowing webbed skin in between it, as he softly hissed, almost debating if to snuggle further or pull away because you HAD to be lying!

Why would ya like him? But you refuse to let go, so he chose the former option, gently humming and squeaking against your cheek, your skin wetting gently more the water on him, but never mind.

Levi gently hummed, pulling you close, his nails gently stroking your wrist as he pulled you into the tub, not caring if your clothes got wet, before he suddenly got shy due to his bold action that he dipped inside the tub to hide somewhere. Of-course Levi made sure you couldn't follow him, but you were nothing if not persistent.

Using spells and powers to track him down, you got underwater too. Thank god for that earlier underwater breathing spell, no? As you gently looked around, finding Levi hidden in some very deep cave, almost hard for you to breathe, as you poked your head up, the cave having the tiniest bit space to let you breathe which was above water.

Levi gently hissed, his eyes teary as he moved to show this glowing scales on his tail, his skin, his arms and his glowing horns, as you softly smiled, "There you are, pretty boy" you smiled as he hissed as if denying it, his black scleras somehow making his eyes stand out and cuter.

"Now now, lt's not self-hate. I promise on my head you're very cute" you said, as Levi hissed, his tail wrapping around your waist for warmth as you giggled from hos cold his tail and his hands were as he hissed, very gently with a smile.

You didn't mention to bother the slightly dulled-out scales, but he gently extended his hand to you with his little crystals, almost usual as he smiled, thanking him.

Levi put his hands gently on your hips, looking u at you from under the water's surface, while your face was just above, right under the crystalline, rocky caves of the ink waters, very softly purring as he smiled gently, gently scratching his shoulder.

Levi wasn't wearing a shirt, only his pants from his demon form, eeing as he scratched and tore the shirt off due to being so itchy, so you hoped he wouldn't do the same to you, because you had no scales to protect your nips like his.

You softly stroked his scales, very gently, hoping nothing was being too itchy, incase you lose a finger with how sharp his nails were currently, as you smiled,

"How pretty!~" you whispered, cooign to him as he let out a hiss to disagree, "I am not saying it out of pity..ut if you do think they're ugly..well" you paused, giggling as he poked his head to stare at your eyes above the water level,

"You're going to start eating protein and not Hana Ruri-chan ramen" you said as he almost gasped, letting out a hiss of disbelief as you grinned. Oh Levi..

© orelicia. I do not give permission to modify, translate, copy or repost ANY of my works. Reblogs are very much beloved!

[russilton]

okay now I've posted the whole article here, allow me to go appropriately off the wall FERAL about George saying he and Lewis have gotten even closer this year and try to hang out off track more because they get on so well, along with George reminding everyone Lewis has to guard himself more than anyone because of the spotlight on him.

I'm going to chew a brick

[draqu1a]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A COLD ENCOUNTER . . .

— what kind? : FLUFF — warnings : harsh language , crying .

The streetlights cast long dark shadows as you hurried down the streets of Boston, clutching your jacket tighter against your chest to not catch hypothermia. You were late. Again.

Suddenly, a small whimper pierced the night. You abruptly stopped, scanning the dimly lit sidewalk.

There, huddled against a brick wall was a little girl. Her face was soaked with tears, her small frame trembling.

"Hey," you said softly, crouching down. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at you, her big, brown eyes filled with pure fear. "I'm lost," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't find my way home."

Your heart squeezed. "What's your name?"

"Lily," she sniffled.

"Okay, Lily. You're going to be alright. Do you know where you live?"

She shook her head, more tears welling in her eyes. "I was walking with my brother," she explained, her voice trembling. "And then...and then I didn't see him anymore."

"Your brother? Does he know you're missing?"

"Yes!" Her face lit up momentarily. "He's probably looking for me. He's really, really strong."

"I'm sure he is," you said, trying to keep your tone reassuring. "Do you remember your address, or anything that could help me find your house?"

Lily chewed on her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We live near the park," she finally said. "And our house is blue."

"Okay, near the park with a blue house. That narrows it down," you muttered, more to yourself than her. You knew the area pretty well — there were only a handful of blue houses near the park.

"Look, Lily," you said, standing up and offering her your hand. "Why don't you come with me? We'll find your brother, okay?"

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grasped your hand. Her small fingers were cold.

"Thank you," she whispered.

So, you walked. Hand in hand, you navigated the familiar streets, Lily occasionally pointing out landmarks she seemed to vaguely remember. After what felt like an eternity, you spotted a blue house nestled between two towering oaks.

"That's it!" Lily squealed, pulling you towards the porch. "That's my house!"

Relief washed over you in a tidal wave. Stepping onto the porch, you reached for the doorbell, but Lily tugged on your sleeve.

"No, wait! I want him to see me first!"

Before you could protest, she pounded on the door with surprising force. The sound echoed through the quiet evening.

The door swung open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the warm light spilling from the house. Your focus was initially on Lily, who practically launched herself into his arms.

"Chris!" she cried, her voice muffled against his chest. "I was so scared!"

"Lily! Oh my god, Lily!" The voice was deep, laced with relief and a hint of panic. He hugged her tighter, burying his face in her hair. "Where were you? I was going out of my freakin mind!"

It was then that you finally looked up.

Your breath hitched. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Time seemed to slow down, the world blurring around the edges.

Standing in the doorway, holding a trembling Lily, was him.

Chris.

Your nemesis.

His head was bent down, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he murmured reassurances to his little sister.

You could see the curve of his jaw, the strong line of his neck. Even in this soft light, he was undeniably attractive. Annoyingly so.

He finally noticed you then, looked up, his eyes widening in shock. The gratitude that had been softening his features vanished, replaced by a familiar curl of his lips.

"You?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

You swallowed, trying to regain your composure. "Yeah, me," you said, forcing a casual shrug. "She was lost."

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion etched on his face. "You found her?"

"She found me," you corrected, your voice sharper than you intended. "And yeah, I helped her get home. Try saying thank you, it's not as hard as you'd think.

He ignored your jab, his gaze flicking between you and his sister. "Lily, did she do anything to you?"

Lily pulled back from his embrace, looking confused. "No, silly! She was nice! She helped me find you!"

Chris’s jaw tightened. He clearly didn't believe you. "So, you just happened to stumble across my lost sister?"

"Look, I don't know what your problem is," you said, your temper blazing. "But I just spent the last hour walking around with your sister, trying to find your damn blue house. You should be thanking me, not interrogating me."

His eyes raked over you, a silent acknowledgment of your words, but the hostility remained. "I still don't trust you."

"Good," you retorted. "Because I wouldn't trust you to walk my dog.”

The air cracked with tension. You could feel his eyes burning into you, a silent challenge. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

God, he was infuriating. And infuriatingly attractive, with those blue eyes and that infuriatingly smug expression. How could someone so gorgeous be so utterly detestable?

"I owe you one," he finally surrendered, the words hesitantly delivered.

"Don't worry about it," you said, turning to leave. "Just try to keep a better eye on your sister."

"Hey, wait," he called out as you reached the edge of the porch.

You stopped, turning back to face him. His expression was unreadable.

"Thanks," he said, the word barely audible. "Really."

You nodded, a small, almost unnoticeable movement. "Yeah, well," you mumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets. "Don't mention it."

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on your back. You quickened your pace, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach as you soon disappeared into the streets.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹🃜 . yappin claudia : i’m out of ideas, trynna get wtv i can out of my head atp while legit almost passin outt .

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹🃜 . taglist : @strnilolover @ifwdominicfike @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @sturnsc @lxcedskxn @sophand4n4 @mi-co-uk . . . .

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is it a curse that keeps the dead alive? (is it the love dripping from my tongue?)

Day 6 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral, no use of y/n)

length: 8.2k

genre: horror, fluff sort of, hurt/comfort

warnings: poltergeist jason, lots of talk about grief/death, unhealthy drinking habits, reader is almost mugged, brief/vague talk of suicide

a/n: sometimes all you need for halloween is to tongue kiss a ghost yk anyway enjooooooy <3

Staying in Gotham after Jason's death had felt like a bad decision that you couldn't shake, just like loving him had always felt like a bad habit that you couldn't break. There was a part of you that always knew that you should leave, that staying in this place where the memory of him haunted you like a ghost was doing nothing but turning you into a phantom, yourself - a whisper of what you used to be.

There's a part of you, you think, that died with him, that crumbled to dust and now lays somewhere on a street hidden in a corner of this endless, cursed city. You should've left, you know. You should've run when you had the chance. But you didn't. And now here you remain, feet rooted to the ground in this terrible place, the feeling of your dead lover haunting your every move. You should've left, but you didn't - and now you can't help but cling to whatever pieces of him you have left, even as you feel them pulling you further from the living. 

"These drafts are, uh," your editor chews on her lip as she speaks, tapping her pen against the stack of paper on her lap. "Well -"

"What?" you snap. She holds her hands up in defence.

"They're just… a little dark, is all. It's not - they're not like your other novels."

"Am I not allowed to change?" you ask dully. "Am I stuck here? Can I not… can I not take a step forward?"

You should've left, but you couldn't, because the only pieces that you have left of Jason are Gotham -  the Bowery and the streets of it, the bricks of the alleyways and the cracked concrete of the sidewalks. The apartment that you'd planned on getting with him, with its rickety fire escape and paint peeling from the walls. All these pieces, all these reasons to cling to and keep you here. It's like a curse, this place, and you were trapped before you ever even realized it. 

"That's not what I'm saying," your editor sighs. "I'm just… a little concerned is all. I don't want you to get lost in this."

"I'm not lost," you shoot back, the words a rushed tumble falling from your lips, a fearful assurance for yourself more than her, perhaps. "I'm not. I know exactly where I am."

"And where is that?" She arches a manicured brow as she watches you. The clock on the wall ticks on and on and you think, perhaps, that this must be what it feels like to be an animal caught in a snare. You stare back at her, waiting, waiting, waiting for something to happen, for someone to pull you out of this place… but you're not sure there's anyone left to take your hand these days.

"…I'm right here," you offer eventually, your voice quiet in the echoing room.

"Right," she sighs. "You should… go away for a while, I think. Take a vacation."

"A vacation?" you echo. She nods and hums in affirmation. "Where?"

"Wherever you want," she shrugs. "Anywhere… anywhere but here."

"Where would I be," you say slowly, "if not for right here?"

"It's just to, you know," she sighs, tapping her nails on the stack of paper as she searches for the right words, as she looks and looks and looks for the way out. "Just to get away from it all for a little while. Get away from this place and these drafts and the - your, um,"

"My dead boyfriend?" you offer dryly. She shoots you an exasperated look.

"Your grief," she corrects. "Get away from your grief before it kills you, too."

You wonder sometimes if Jason knew that, even when you didn't. If he knew, all of those nights that you spent crying and pleading with him to be safe, to be careful, to not go out there to die. You wonder if he knew that it was some kind of curse, that this city traps you and ensnares you and chokes the outside world. 

Not that it matters, you think dully, now that he's dead.

"Is this because of the Red Hood?" your editor asks bluntly. You blink.

"Pardon?" 

"The new novels, the - the horrors that you write now. Is it because of the phantom?" she clarifies. You straighten where you sit, shifting in your seat.

"They're just… ghost stories," you say slowly. "The Red Hood's not - he's not real."

"I'm not saying he is," she sighs. "I'm just… Jason died and that changed you and I get that. But these weird… these weird rumours start popping up all over the city and suddenly the only books you'll write are about… about -"

"Ghost stories?" you prompt.

"Dead people!" she exclaims before sighing and brushing a stray hair out of her face. "I just… I just don't want to see you get stuck in this is all."

"I think," you say pointedly, rolling your shoulders back and settling further into your chair, "that it's a bit too late for that."

Dead, sure, but not gone. Even after his death, it's like he's still here. It's an ever-heavy presence laying over your shoulders and wrapping around you. Sometimes you swear you can even feel his breath on your cheek.

But that's crazy, you tell yourself. It can't be real. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

It's years after Jason's death that stories begin to spread around the Bowery - rumours of a hulking, shadowed figure stalking through the alleyways at night, intangible and uncatchable and melting into nothing whenever he's close to getting caught. People murmur about seeing streaks of red out of the corner of their eyes and a hooded figure hiding in the darkness. People whisper, people talk.

The Red Hood, they began to call him.

It scares people, notably - everyone at first. But then a pattern begins to emerge, and the story surrounding the Red Hood begins to shift. It's the criminals that begin to taste fear, that begin to shrink away from the darkness of night and the nooks and corners that they used to call home. It's the violence that begins to shift, turning against the perpetrators.

The Bowery's protector, he begins to be known as. Some sort of guardian angel, stalking the dangerous back alleys and keeping people safe in the depths of the endless night.

You hear the stories, of course, for you also call the Bowery home. And sure, a part of you thinks that it must be nonsense, must be some kind of trick of the night or hallucination spun from living endlessly in this closed-off city. But you've felt it, of course - the presence of someone watching, lurking, trailing after you. You swear that you've seen it, the streak of red like a splash of blood against the blackened backdrop of night. 

You swear that there's something out there… and you swear that he's got his eye on you.

The first time you really encounter the Red Hood, you're sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building, one beer cracked open for yourself and a second sitting next to you, untouched. It's never opened - Jason's not there to share it with you. He never will be again, you know, you know, you know. But there's something that feels so wrong about doing things for just you instead of for the both of you, and you're not sure that you would be able to stand the idea of grabbing one beer from the fridge and drinking it alone.

But you are alone, you know, and you swing your legs over the edge and look up at the stars alone, your breath coming out in cold, foggy puffs. He'd sit with you, back when he was still alive. He'd point up at the stars through the cloud-splotched sky and tell you about the constellations, outlining the stories and the histories as he traced a hand up and down your spine and pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head. 

You look at the sky tonight and you think about the big, wide world beyond this city, beyond the tangled snare of this life and the way that it haunts. And it's like you can feel it, the knotted wires twisting around your ankles and keeping you rooted here.

But then you tip your head down to stare toward the tangled mess of the city beneath you and you think of the Red Hood, of the shadow stalking the streets below. A shudder passes through you as you feel it, the weight of that unknown presence, and you can't help but wonder if it's Jason who's still here - if he's still holding on for you in some way.

Selfish, you think harshly as you clench your fists and stand, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and stumbling. Your head swims as you pull yourself to your feet, and you teeter for a moment as you slip on the edge of the roof. 

But just as your heart lurches in your chest, just as you feel yourself tip off the edge, everything sort of… pauses for a minute. No one ever thinks they're really going to be the one to fall drunk off of a roof to their death - but here you are, balancing so precariously on the ledge between life and death.

Something sort of… catches you, then - an arm wraps around your waist and hauls you back up onto the safe, steady ground, notably far, far away from the ledge. And you swear to god you see it - the shadowy outline of a figure, the halo of red, the bite of cold flashing through you. 

You spin around, wildly looking around the empty rooftop and letting your heart sink back into your chest as you find yourself alone, standing next to the roof access door. As you reach for the doorknob, your heart still spinning from the ordeal, you glance back at where you were sitting.

Your heart lurches again, then, finding its way to your throat as you stare at the empty beer bottle that sits on the ledge, your fingerprints still smudging the condensation on it. The second bottle, you realize… is gone, disappeared along with whoever or whatever saved you from the fall. 

As you stumble back into your apartment, locking the door behind you with trembling fingers, you can't help but feel like you're not quite alone - like something that used to be out there is now… in here. 

It's weeks later when the Red Hood makes his appearance again. You're sitting on your fire escape late in the evening, the metal hot to the touch as the moon hangs low and the summer air sits heavy and humid. Two glasses of lemonade sit next to you, yours half-empty and dripping condensation in the heat that wraps around everything, choking everything that it touches. Jason's, of course, sits untouched beside you, but it sits nonetheless - like he'll walk out any minute to join you, to sit next to you and crack the ice cubes on his teeth.

You're looking through old pictures of the two of you, boxes of them that typically stay hidden and buried in the back of your closet having been pulled out and dusted off. You're not sure why, but there's something lately that's made you want to remember him more than usual - something that's made you want to see him. 

But one of those hot, sticky gusts of summer wind blows through and a picture flutters out of the box and away - despite your desperate, rushed scramble to lean over the railing to try to grab it. It's agonizing, perhaps more than it should be. With so few tangible memories of him left, you don't feel like you can afford to lose any small scraps. It's like he's slipping through your fingers more and more each day, and you start to realize in a sinking sort of way, that even the dead will always have further to fall, further to disappear.

You're hanging over the railing, staring forlornly down into the darkness when the photo just sort of… floats back up toward you. It's like it was tossed by someone or something down below, some unseeable force pushing it back up and toward your chest. But as you snatch it in your hand and lean a bit further to peer down toward the ground, all you manage to see is a quick stripe of red blurring through the shadows in the corner of your vision. There's nothing else… nothing besides the endless darkness and the twisting maze-like trap of the city.

When you sigh and sit back down, thumbing the photo as you grip onto it and letting your shoulders slump with a deep exhale, you reach for your lemonade. But the second glass, you find, is… empty, with wet fingerprints breaking through the layer of condensation on it and the ice missing, too.

Turning away sharply to look down at your hands, you realize that the photo that you're holding is one of you and Jason on Halloween years ago, matching ghost-like costume makeup smudged across your faces. 

And so it begins, this routine that the two of you have. It's no replacement for Jason, sure - this strange, shadowed spirit that seems to trail after you, that seems to haunt your every move and tangle around you like the curse of this place. It is no replacement for the love of the living, but it's something - it's someone, and it makes you feel just a little less alone.

It's when you're walking home one night, winding through the twisted, maze-like alleyways and streets with nothing but the dull light of the moon to guide you, when you think that maybe this will be the night that you're unlucky. You know where you live - you know that it's really only dumb luck that you haven't been mugged yet, haven't been backed into a dark corner with no one to turn to and nowhere to run.

It's a cornerstone of this city, perhaps, to be so trapped… to be caught in this web before you even know to be afraid.

So when it begins to happen, when you're pressed into a corner, the brick wall cold and piercing against your back and your heart in your throat, you think that it's probably just time for the inevitable.

But then you think of Jason, of how kind and caring he was and how protective he was. You think of how he'd walk you home late at night to make sure that you were safe, how you'd wave down to him from the fire escape of your apartment and blow him a kiss from above. You wonder, in that hazy, fearful sort of way that seems to happen when death comes knocking at your door, if he was afraid when he died, somewhere in some back alley like this. You wonder if he thought of you, of the fact that he'd never come home safely that night, of the fact that he was leaving you.

There's something that lurches painfully in your throat as you press yourself further against the wall and you think of him in your place, with those kind, gentle eyes of his and those hands that didn't quite know how to do harm yet.

Sometimes you think that Jason was just too good for this place - that he deserved something much more than this crawling city could give him. And maybe, you think as a knife glints in front of you, the yellow of the streetlight illuminating your oncoming death. Maybe dying is the only way out of this godforsaken curse.

But then something… changes. The air shifts - the shadows dance. A streak of red slices between you and your threat and you hear a scream and a bloody gurgle of pain and maybe even a gunshot. You see the figure in front of you, wrapped in shadow and striking reds. You see the way that the streetlight goes right through him and the way that the shine of the moon can't quite seem to touch him… and you see the body of the man who'd been threatening you, too, blood-soaked and unmoving on the ground.

You stare down at him, your eyes wide and unblinking as you watch blood pool into the cracks and crevices of the crumbling asphalt beneath you and you consider how many of you have died like this - silent and ignored, like a rat in a back alley that's seen as nothing more than a nuisance… another body to step over, another lost cause finally gone.

The body doesn't move and a shaky, whimpering exhale leaves your lips as you lean heavily against the brick wall, your knees trembling and your hands cold. It could've been you tonight - it was Jason, once. There is a death that stalks these streets and something saved you tonight, you're sure. Something that shouldn't have been there.

Sure enough, that strange, hulking figure is still there, standing in front of you for the first time after flitting past you, unseen, for so long. You see him tangibly, solidly - you see his stance and the way he rolls his shoulders back and clenches his fists. 

You see Jason standing in front of you - a ghost of what he used to be, a haunting memory seeping into reality before your wide, unsteady eyes.

"Jason…" your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a murmur cutting through the silent, still night. You're sure that you've gone crazy, of course. You think that maybe that man really had killed you and this is some hazy, cursed afterlife… some way of trapping you here in this moment and this agony even in death. You think - but you say his name, whisper it to him like a prayer and you wait, frozen, for an answer from above.

He turns to you slowly, and it seems that it's his turn to act like he's seen a ghost, spinning to face you and staring, wide-eyed and silent. You see him, just for a moment, and you know now that it's him, that it's Jason.

"Jason, I - no, wait, please -," Perhaps it's because he's afraid, you think desperately. Or perhaps it's - perhaps you've gone insane. He fades from in front of you, vaporizing into the endless shadows of the city and leaving you alone in the alleyway.

Alone, alone, alone. 

Even in death, you're still losing him. Even in death, he's still slipping further and further from your fingers, squirming from your grasp until not even his memory is left to haunt you. 

He's gone, and there's nothing but you and an unmoving corpse in a dark corner of a dark city, and when you stumble home slowly that night, there's a silence and a stillness that makes your skin crawl and your hands twitch. 

Even in the days that follow that incident, the presence is just… gone. It leaves you reeling, of course, wondering endlessly if it was real, if the shadowy, blood-soaked protector of the Bowery is Jason, in one form or another. 

But even if it is the ghost of him, you think, staring at the photo of him that you keep tucked into a corner of your wallet. Even if it is some phantom memory of him, some piece that couldn't die - couldn't get away from this place… is it even really him? Is it enough, you think, to have just the shadow of his life?

It plagues you as the days roll by, and you find yourself wandering endlessly, both inside your home and out in the winding, maze-like streets, like you're looking for something that you know doesn't exist. It's like you're searching for some kind of way out, waiting for a sign or an omen or another blood-soaked body in the back of an alley to rise from the dead and tell you what to feel. 

But time drags on ceaselessly in a city that grows inward, that tangles itself endlessly together until it traps you. And as that time rolls by, you begin to get more… desperate.

You want to see him again - you need to see him again. And you figure… there has to be a way to make him appear - just once, just to see if you're right, if it's really him and he's really haunting you. 

That's how you find yourself, one night, up on the rooftop of your building once again. One mostly empty beer bottle sits next to you with a second, untouched one placed caringly beside it as you stand on the concrete ledge and let the breeze blow into you.

You wonder briefly, as you peer over the edge, what it would be like to be nothing, to have the wind blow right through you and never feel the cold. You gaze down, down, down towards the darkened depths of the city as night blankets the buildings and muffles the life there. It's odd, you think, to look at it all from this height - to stand above it like this. It's odd to feel so separate and yet… trapped, still. Trapped… always.

You toe at the concrete edge and wrap your arms around your waist as the end-of-summer breeze brings in the cooler air and makes you shiver. You think that perhaps this is going a bit too far - perhaps you've gone a bit too crazy and this will be the end of you. Maybe there is no place here for the living and all that's left for you in this forsaken curse is to join the dead, one way or another.

You consider, as you stare down into the depths, being buried next to Jason if this kills you. But then you consider being buried somewhere outside of Gotham - because maybe then you could finally escape this place, even if it really is only in death.

But then, as you lift one foot and let it swing over the edge, you think that perhaps you… don't even really want that. Perhaps you can't even stand to think about it. Perhaps there is some part of Jason tied to this place because that's really what gets you… you don't want to break free of it.

You get a bit distracted, admittedly, thinking about all this and turning it over in your mind, and you let your foot hover over the empty space, staring down at the city below. You're so distracted that it catches you off guard, the firm arm that wraps around your waist and hauls you away from the ledge, dragging you to safety. 

The breath catches in your lungs from the force of it, from the strength of the tug that pulls you endlessly away from that tipping point between life and death and steadies you on your feet. You're reeling from the force of it still when you hear a voice - his voice. Jason's voice… for the first time since his death, all of those years ago. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he begins, a hysterical edge in his voice. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if I hadn't been there? You could've - god, you could've died." He's going on and on, trembling and tugging at his hair and babbling about how he doesn't know what you were thinking and how dangerous that was and how he's been trying so hard to keep you safe but you're out here doing things like this and… 

And you stare, wide-eyed, at the ghost of your lover as he stands before you and speaks to you in a voice that you almost recognize. It's different, notably, scratchy and warbling in a way that it wasn't before. But it's Jason's, still, and you'd know that voice anywhere, from anyone… even in death.

He looks… dead, mostly, you note. Pale-faced with dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken and face hollow. He looks… ashen - empty and unwell and… dead. He looks dead. 

But he's standing in front of you and chewing you out for being so reckless, scolding you for not taking care of yourself and you're just sort of… stunned. Your head spins and your hands shake and it's like you can't breathe as your lungs turn to ice. You can still feel it, you're sure, the weight of his arm around your waist -  you can still feel the strength of him haul you away from the ledge that you were so precariously tipping over.

You can feel the ghost of the man that you once loved saving you from becoming what he is now.

"Jason…" you whisper his name and his jaw snaps shut as he stares, unblinking and unmoving as you fall apart in front of him. If he were still alive, you realize, all of that shouting and carrying on would have him here heaving for breath while his heart hammers. But he's dead, you remind yourself, and you can't help but sink to your knees, crumbling under the weight of it all, under the weight of the man that you loved and lost standing in front of you and looking so hollow but so whole at the same time.

Your hands shake and your lungs tremble and you feel lost in the maze of it all more than ever before as everything spins and spins and spins around you. But he sees you start to buckle, start to crumble towards the ground and Jason reaches for you, gripping you around the waist and keeping you somewhat upright.

When you reach for him in shock, gripping onto the dull red of his tattered hoodie, you feel him, solid and real and tangible as he presses against you. He's real, even as a memory, even as a phantom of who he used to be. He's real. You whisper his name again as you look up at him and it's like it all comes to a halt, like the wind stops blowing and the stars stop blinking as you look at the man that you love and you find him again for the first time… even in death. 

There the two of you stand, face to face, dead and alive. He's looking at you like you're the ghost, wide-eyed and shocked and staring at you like he loves you still. And you're pressing against him - and he's cold to the touch like he never was before, the heart in his chest silent as he looks down at you.

But he's Jason and he's here and he's more alive than he's been to you in years.

"Jason…" you say his name again like a prayer, like a plea. You say it while you stand so close to him that your breath would be mingling with his if he still had anything to breathe and your hands tighten on his hoodie at the reminder… at the remembrance that he's so, so far from you, even now.

It's almost as if he remembers this at the same time as you, because he pulls away from you in a jerking, shocked action, stumbling away and leaving you to stumble on your own. He steps back so fast that he trips on his own feet and there's a look of anguish in him suddenly, like he's remembering that he's not supposed to be here - that he's not allowed to live anymore. 

"Jason," it's a shrill, desperate yell this time that comes from you as you watch him begin to fade, begin to melt into the mist of the night and leave you once more. You call out to him with a wretchedness that he's not sure he's ever heard before in life or in death… with a need that makes him feel almost alive, almost real.

It makes him stumble, makes him hesitate as he stares, eyes wild and sparking with something almost akin to life. It makes him snap back into solid form again. You make him whole again, just for a moment. 

He says your name, a whisper over the breeze, a small noise swallowed by the night, and the shock begins to rattle and drain from your body in heavy, gasping breaths as you double over and sob, falling to your knees fully this time so that you can weep into your hands and hide your face from view. There's nothing from him for a moment, and you're petrified that if you look up, he'll be gone again, nothing but a shadow of the night, nothing but a memory faded by pain.

But he proves you wrong - takes you by surprise, just like he always could. He moves toward you like he's pulled by some invisible thread tangling around the two of you and winding your lives and deaths together that he can't quite untangle himself from. He moves to you like he loves you, still, even in death.

When his cold, undead hands cup your face and begin to wipe away your tears, when his bluish lips press against your forehead and he shushes you in that gentle, loving way of his, you find that maybe being trapped here isn't so bad.

"You can't do that," you whisper as he crouches in front of you, his hands wiping away endless tears that roll down your cheeks and his brows bunching together as he frowns. "You can't leave me like that - not again. I can't - I can't do it again."

"I'm sorry," he starts with, and a part of your heart lurches until he says, "I won't - I won't leave you ever again. There is nothing that can take me from you now." Just as he's begun to smooth the wet tracks from your cheeks, though, the mist around you dampens further into rain and you watch as it goes right through him, as it hits the ground beneath his feet and soaks the pale concrete.

"Jason, I need…" you begin as you stare at the ground through him. "You need to tell me what's been going on."

It's odd, you find, to have him in your home again, to watch him stand in your kitchen and make a cup of tea - just one cup, you notice, while you dry your hair from the rain. He'd ushered you out of the cold, pushing you with gentle, tender hands until you were back inside the safety of your apartment and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. 

The kiss that he'd pressed to your forehead was quick, a hesitant sort of thing as he'd delicately guided you to the bathroom to clean up and get warm. As you stood in the doorway and watched him waft toward your kitchen, something had flipped in your gut at how normal it felt to have him back in your life and your home, even if you could see the kitchen lights shining through him and onto you. 

By the time you come out into the kitchen, he's pushing a steaming cup of tea towards you as you sit on a stool at your counter, letting your hands wrap around the ceramic to soak up the warmth. 

"How is it that you can, um," you begin, frowning down at your tea. When you glance up at him sheepishly, he just grins in that kind way of his, the gesture juxtaposing the gaunt, hollow look on his face. 

"It's ok," he prompts gently and you sigh.

"How can you… touch and hold things and… and be?" you ask slowly. This time, when he smiles, the only thing that shines through is love.

"Well it's - it's because of you, baby," he says simply. You blink at him, staring as you frown.

"What?"

"It's, I don't know - it's just what poltergeists do, I guess," Jason shrugs as he shifts on his feet. "We cause trouble, we wreak havoc. It's what I do."

"I don't know," you say, huffing out a laugh. "I'm not sure keeping the Bowery safe counts as wreaking havoc. I mean, the only people you're causing trouble for are the people who probably deserve it. And you're… you're keeping me safe. And - and my home. You're keeping our home safe." You clear your throat after you speak, pointedly looking away from him and out your window, instead, feeling heat seep into your cheeks as you stare at the way the rain quickens into a downpour outside. 

"I have to," Jason says quietly, and the sombre tone of his voice makes your gaze snap back to him. "I couldn't… I couldn't do it when I was alive. But I can do things now… I can be things that I couldn't before."

"But how, Jay?" you sigh. "What do you mean when you say it's me?" He laughs a bit at that, then, leaning across the counter to kiss your cheek and feeling a spark of delight zip warmth through his chest for the first time since his heart stopped beating when you lean forward subconsciously to let him love on you. 

"You've been leaving things out for me, baby."

"Hm?" is your only response. Jason looks at you pointedly and you chew your lip for a moment before he glances down at the tea in your hands and you perk up.

"Oh my god," you splutter, and he laughs a bit at your gasp. "The beer, the lemonade, the  - everything. It really was you."

"Yea, baby," he says easily. "Every… all the drinks, the extra plates of food, the - everything like that. You were paying tribute to a ghost, babe. You were keeping me here." You sit with that for a moment, letting your fingers tighten around the cooling ceramic of your mug as your head spins from Jason's words, with the knowledge that you really had spent all this time keeping the dead alive, in a way. 

"Why'd you…" you begin, shifting in your seat as you search for the words. "Why'd you stay here, though? This place… it chokes the life out of people, Jay. It really choked the life out of you." You wrinkle your nose in immediate regret as you say the ill-timed joke, but Jason just laughs and presses another cold kiss to your cheek and you relax ever so slightly under the comfort of it all. "Why would you stay trapped in a place like this? Even in death?"

"Because of you, baby," he says gently, and his fingers tangle together as he eyes your hands, like he wants so desperately to reach for you but he just can't bring himself to. "I'm tied to you. Your love and your gifts and your… your remembering of me - that's what's keeping me around. I'm not tied to this city like a curse anymore. I'm tied… just to you. To your - to your love."

"Jason," you begin, your voice wavering as you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes, but he just continues.

"I've been trying, you know, this whole time," he says in a rush. "I've been trying to watch you - watch over you, keep you safe and all that. I've been trying to repay you for keeping me alive, sort of. I've been - I've been trying to make it worth it for you."

"I wasn't…" you begin carefully. "You don't have to do that for me. You don't have to make it worth my while. I just - I just missed you, Jason. I just wanted you back. Why didn't you come back to me?" Your voice cracks at the end as tears blur your vision and Jason shrinks back in a way that you've never seen before, curling into himself. He looks small, scared and insecure in a way that you're not used to seeing from him, even in life.

"Baby, I'm - I'm dead," he says heavily. "I look dead. I'm… I'm hollow and I'm rotting away and I didn't - I couldn't let you see me like that." 

"Oh, Jason…" you say softly, but he steps away from the counter, away from you, and rubs harshly at his eyes with the palms of his hands as his shoulders bunch up. Under the light of your kitchen, his skin looks thin, stretched over bones too tightly as it shines with a waxy, unnatural, yellowish tinge. 

"I can't be who I was before," he says desperately, keeping his face hidden in his hands as he all but doubles over, his voice trembling and cracking. "I can't - I - I want you to remember me, remember me for who I was, not - not this thing that I am now. I just… I wanted you to remember me well."

You abandon your cup of tea at his outburst, retracting your hands from the warmth of it so that you can make your way around the counter and toward him. 

"Come here," you offer gently as you jump up to sit on the counter in front of him, waving him over with one of your hands. Jason looks at you for a moment, wary and sniffling, but even now he finds himself incapable of denying you and his feet bring him, stumbling, toward you despite his protests.

You widen your legs for him, letting him slot his hips between your thighs as you wrap your fingers around the red fabric of his hoodie and pull him closer to you. It's the hoodie that he died in, you note as you thumb at the fabric, at the tears and loose threads. It's the hoodie that he was wearing when he walked out your door and never came back.

But now he's here, trembling and looking down like he can't bear the sight of whatever disappointment, whatever hatred he's sure you'll look at him with. But you just cup his face in your hands, his skin cold as you smooth your palms over his cheeks and coax him ever so gently to look up at you. Then, slowly… slowly, you lean forward to press your lips against his, the bluish tinge of his lips chilled against your own. 

There's a sound that he makes somewhere in the back of his throat, nervous and shocked and disbelieving as you part from his lips only to press a series of gentler, slower kisses across his face. You cover the sunken hollows of his cheeks and the darkened circles under his eyes and the pale, waxy skin of his fluttered-closed eyelids. You cover every surface until you find his lips again, and you can't help but be a bit delighted this time when he kisses you back, letting his tongue push against the seam of your lips as his hands grip onto your hips tightly.

"Jason," you murmur quietly, breaking away just enough to suck in a breath. He hums in question, his lips chasing yours, but you huff out a laugh and tap him chastisingly on the lips. "I still have to breathe, you know, even if you don't."

"Sorry, baby," he says sweetly, turning to trail kisses down your neck, instead, but you only indulge him for a moment before you're cupping his cheeks against and guiding him gently to look at you. 

"I love you, you know… completely," you say honestly, and he tries to shift and look away but you tighten your grip on his cheeks so that he's forced to look at you. You know, of course, that he could leave if he wanted to - could vanish into thin air and melt from your grasp once again. You know that he's here because he's choosing to be, because he loves you, because he worships you, but never because he's trapped with you.

"Baby…"

"No, Jay, listen. I love you endlessly, through death and beyond. I promise, baby. I'll… I'll promise you as many times as you need to hear it. I love you tonight just as much as I loved you the night that I lost you. Nothing… nothing could change that."

"You didn't lose me," he murmurs back, leaning to press his forehead against yours and let his eyes flutter shut. "You didn't. Not - not forever, at least. I'm here. I'm here, I'm - I'm so sorry for leaving you, baby."

"Don't you apologize for it, Jay," you whisper back, letting one of your hands press against his chest where his heart used to beat and feeling nothing but the dull cold that radiates from him now. "Don't you apologize for shit that isn't your fault."

"I'm story I stayed away for so long, then," he amends, and you pull back to smile at him fondly, your eyes full of nothing but love as you run a hand through his hair, as brittle and dry as it is now.

"You came back, though, didn't you? You came back to me," you say easily, and you're sure that if his lungs still had use he would sigh one of those heavy, deep sighs that he's so fond of. Maybe that really is the curse, you think. No matter how far you run, you always end up right back in this place. 

"I did, yea, I -," Jason clears his throat, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. You let him, smoothing your hands up and down his chest as you feel him clenching his fingers against your hips. "I'll always come back to you," he ends up saying firmly, tilting his head back down to look at you once more. There's something in him now, a promise, a passion - and it flits through his eyes so deeply that he almost looks alive. "I'll always come back to you."

"I know you will, baby," you say softly, one of your hands finding the back of his neck to pull him toward you again. "I know you will." When you kiss him this time, there's no hesitance, no fear - not from either of you. 

When he buries his head in your shoulder to weep, his face pressed against the skin of your neck so that you can feel his tears, icy and wet, trailing over your skin, you bury your hand in his hair and shush him gently, rocking him back and forth as he sobs. That night, with the storm raging outside and tearing through the winding, tangled streets of Gotham, the two of you remain in the confines of your home. That night, you learn that ghosts can still cry. You learn that they can still love. 

It's shocking, to say the least, when you wake the next morning to learn that the storm has passed and the sun's broken through the clouds just ever so slightly. The gaps in the darkened overhang filter shattering, slender beams of light onto the dark and tangled city below, illuminating cracks and crevices that have been unseen for so long. 

Ghosts can't sleep, you know, but you wake with Jason in your bed, anyway, holding you and soothing you and pulling the blanket up around you while you doze against his chest.

"Did you stay here all night?" you murmur against him, and you feel him hum in affirmation.

"Of course," Jason responds easily, his voice hushed and low as he soothes you with his hands. "Where else would I be, if not right here with you?"

"Fighting crime," you mumble, and this time his laughter shakes his chest enough that it jostles you, much to your half-asleep displeasure. "No, I'm serious," you continue. "I hear there's some crazy smuggling going on at the docks - someone even said they saw a mermaid on one of the cargo ships."

"A mermaid?" Jason muses. "In Gotham? I think you need some more sleep, baby."

"You're no fun," you quip back, but you close your eyes and curl closer to him regardless as he laughs.

"I think I'll stick to the Bowery for now," he soothes. "Someone else can deal with whatever circus is going on down at the docks."

"Yea, but what about last night?" you sigh sleepily as Jason traces a hand up and down your spine. "How do you think the Bowery fared without the Red Hood protecting it for the night?"

"I feel like…" he responds slowly. "You're making fun of me."

"No," you say quickly. "Wouldn't dream of it." His finger flicks you gently on the forehead and you giggle, keeping your eyes closed and your face buried in his chest. 

"Even the Red Hood deserves a night off every now and then… right?" At the hesitance in his voice, the thin warble of insecurity seeping in, you open your eyes and tug yourself up and away from him so that you can give him one of your soft, gentle smiles and kiss him on the cheek.

"Endlessly, yes," you say simply, and it relaxes him enough that he lets his shoulders drop and he tugs you back toward him, settling you against his chest once more and coaxing you to close your eyes. His skin presses against yours as he pulls the blankets up around your shoulders and tucks them in carefully, and you can't help but hum in satisfaction and press yourself further into him.

It's not often that the sun shines in Gotham, in this cursed place that traps you and holds onto you in its choking, death-like grip. It's not often that the light breaks through. But now, as the beams shine through your window and cast patches of heat onto your back, you find that the cool feeling of Jason's touch is nothing but a comfort against you. 

Maybe this curse isn't so bad, you think, if he's here with you. Maybe this life isn't so bad, even in death. 

It's surprisingly simple, you think, for the two of you to begin to settle into this new routine, this new life after death. You're still tangled in this place, of course, still trapped beneath the weight of this haunting city and the ways that it ensnares you. But there is a safety in your home for the two of you that feels a bit less like a curse and a bit more like a choice. 

It's late one evening, the rain raging outside as flashes of lightning crack through the sky and thunder rattles the windows of your living room as it booms overhead. You're turning up the heat on your thermostat and Jason's sitting on your couch, that sullen, fidgety look overtaking him as he remembers that he's different now, that you can't curl up into him for warmth the way that you used to.

"What are you doing over there?" he asks in that dull sort of way that he slips into when he can see the fabric of your couch through his hands and he catches glimpses of his reflection in your mirrors. 

"I'm just turning the heat up, babe," you say absentmindedly, cranking up the temperature on your thermostat so that it's high. "And that's not something that you have to apologize for," you point out as you spin on your heel and turn back to him, making your way back to your spot next to him and glancing at your radiator with a huffed out breath when it rattles with newfound effort.

"How warm did you make it?" he asks, a frown tugging at his lips as you curl against him and he cranes his head around you to try to catch a look at the number on the thermostat.

"Just warm enough for me to do this," you respond easily, pressing up against his side and letting the cold feeling of his skin seep through you as you let out a delighted shiver. Sure enough, as the temperature in your apartment begins to rise, you find yourself pressing closer to him, seeking the cool touch of his hand tracing mindless patterns across your back under your shirt and the feel of your cheek pressing against his neck.

"Hm, clever," Jason mumbles in that new airy, warbling way of his, and you know that if blood still pumped under his skin he'd have a bright red blush raging across his cheeks. You coo still and poke him gently in the hollow of one of his cheeks, watching him fondly as he looks down at you with a long-suffering stare. 

"I'm just saying," you shrug, "we could do all sorts of things like this."

"Yea?" he quips, but his hand smooths down your back and grasps firmly onto your hip, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to press into your skin. "Like what?"

"Hm, I have some ideas…" you trail off, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. "But what were you thinking?" 

Outside, the world spins and spins and the storm rages on. Outside, the streets are dark and winding and dangerous, the maze of alleyways and crumbling roads a haunting hazard, a mass grave for those tied to this place. Outside, the city creaks and groans with a life of its own as it takes and takes and takes.

But in here, even the dead can find themselves a home. In here, even ghosts can learn to live again.

[s0ft-d3cay]

Smokey Horizon

Viktor x Male Reader | I couldn't get the idea of Viktor smoking out of my head, I need this man to shotgun a hit to me IMMEDIATELY. All that aside, low-key I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you all enjoy it as well!!

Warnings: smoking, sharing cigarettes, lots of longing(intimately), teasing(as always)

WC: 1,019

The contrast of Piltover’s bright marble white's, gray's, and golden outlines were muted in shadows. White smoke dancing and caressing Y/N at every exhale, utterly content in the small hidden area, leaned against pristine bricks within the dimmed alleyway. Eyes focused towards his own fingers and cigarette, flickering towards the opposite wall in deep thought. Gazing deep pools of secluded space and secrets soon pinpoint Viktor from a distance, a modest smirk appears as he nods the scientist over. His thoughts washed away as a friendly fond expression soften over his features.

"You’re late." He spoke, fishing out his pack. A single roll of hand wrapped cigarettes, offered up. Always the same with Y/N, the soft warm spot the Viktor engraved with his stare and wit. His mere presence setting the mood between the two, be it playful, serious, or even flirty. Much of their past exchanges were quiet, a buzzing pause filled with surrendering serenity.

Even with the occasional small talk that bubbles from Viktor’s brilliant mind, what used to be mumbled calculations morphed to soothing rambles and incoherent scientific explanations. And it later became a secret crave for Y/N to hear. What was then hard to follow theories evolve to anticipated updates, some of which Y/N would add his own feedback and ideas to. Watchful of the mist reaching from his lips, the way his hands expressed along with his words, hypnotized.

"I don’t remember our arrangement being a timely one. When did that change?" Viktor replies, golden gaze burning with every glance. His slender fingers grasping the cigarette, placing it with careful precision. Y/N then swaps out the box for his lighter, holding it up with a click, igniting the flame. "Since your work days became longer." He answers with a false pout, his teeth chewing his lip to keep from grinning. Enthralled in the way the man leaned toward the lit flame, the concentrated scrunch of his brows as the honey embers ignited.

He only then flips the lighter closed, once Viktor pulls away. Taking in his own long hit. Allowing the dense substance entering his lungs to settle, body numbing from the inside out. "I told you, I would be busy for the foreseeable future." The scientist reminded, words almost lost to Y/N, too focused on not staring at the other’s lips. Or how his expression softened, lines of stress and worry dwindling. Taking another hit as he muffled out a chuckle, attempting to mask his heart flutter.

Y/N nods, "Must've slipped my mind. Sounds like I'm starting to become a distraction." That subtle pull of a small grin caught Y/N's stare and heart in a shared hiccup. Shifting his attention down towards his cigarette with forced will, thumb fiddling with the end. Suppressing the embarrassed flush threatening below his skin, warming beneath the surface.

Vision cleared even with the smokey after, golden sun cascading through rays of amber geomagnetic shapes. Radiant in familiar hazy embers, "You’re distracting has a tendency of the opposite affect, I’m afraid." Viktor thoughtfully countered. A canvas usually hollowed and focus elsewhere, now intrigued with Y/N. Fostering the movements of his hand, each rhythmic sway followed by a line of puppeteer-ed gray strings, billowing aside.

Y/N nodded again, his attention split on Viktor's tone and words. Each somehow different from one another. He hums out a soft breath, pushing off the opposite wall, breaking the toed line between them. Resting beside the scientist, their shoulders barely brushing. "At least you're taking a break." A hint of relief tailing the words, affectionate. Lingering in the silence awhile longer, lying to himself through his own word choice, shoving the ever-growing affection elsewhere. Stubbing out the leftover ember, twisting and tapping it before tossing the end deeper within the alley. 

Strings of smoke now surrounding the two within imperfect loops, "I could use a distraction like you." He states, a soft rumbled chuckle ricocheted after, the half smoked cigarette moved towards Y/N. A silent offer, cold fingers barely brushed warm lips as he gently took it between his lips. Heated gaze of honeyed hazel flickered over Y/N, an expression he himself had made prior. Openly staring, heightened, and too close of their closing proximity.

Pinpricks of shivers and a looming pull surges between them. Body warmth being shared, their shoulders now pressed along to their arms. Side by side, the two man were somewhat the same height but now. With Y/N leaning lower against the wall, Viktor towered over him in mere inches. Pulling away from the cigarette, lungs beginning to strain around the held smoke. Warming his ever-heating chest, a furnace resistance of coal, of allowing his desire to truly flourish.

Each second passing consumed Y/N, the chance to be so close to Viktor. So, intimate with the normally reserved man. One who played at a distance, one who’d test the waters before tempting the other closer. Daring for Y/N to cross the line. "...you should get going." Y/N whispers, stray wisps of gray smoke falling from his mouth. He briefly turned his head to exhale the rest, swallowing his excitement in what could've been.

His gaze reconnects with Viktor’s, breath stuttering, remaining in place. His body staying pressed to the brick. Still inches away…a small step and head tilt. "Hm, perhaps." He utters softly, a hint of reluctance paired along. Y/N chuckles, snatching the cigarette. Rolling the paper between his fingers, shifting to fully face him. Head resting on the wall as he looks up towards the other.

"You're lingering, genius." The man teases. The light of sunset falling over the corners, the line of light now cascading over them in shadowy concealment. Setting a physical change in within their dynamic, "You don't seem to mind when I do, linger that is." Viktor returned, seemingly ignoring the other's press to leave. Not, that that was a bad thing by any means. Y/N felt his lips pull, his heart pounding devotion embedding its spread through his chest. Higher than any cigarette could give him, that tender kindness of puppy love. Indulging himself in his own mirrored lingering.

"And you don't either."

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

[wlntrsldler]

i’m kinda feeling a jealous!luke rn…… how do we feel about luke going to cheer for fuve star in one of her matches but afterwards when he’s going to congratulate her, he finds some dude trying to flirt with her. and she’s clearly not interested but luke doesn’t miss the chance to greet her with a kiss and then look at the guy with the most annoyed, dismissive expression ever. then luke smiles. “sorry, was i interrupting?”

a/n: i know nothing about field hockey! beware!

"mr. d, i don't know how you do this," luke muttered, eyes darting between you and clarisse on the field. the score was 1-1 and it was end of 2OT. both teams were gearing up for a shootout for the national title. "i've never been this nervous in my life."

mr. d chuckled from beside him, placing a comforting hand on luke's upper back, "trust me, it doesn't get any easier."

"i think i'm gonna throw up," chris mumbled from beside luke, anxiously waiting for the referee to indicate that the shootout was starting. clarisse was third on the line-up.

"you and me both, brother," luke replied, chewing on his bottom lip. he tugged on his shirt, suddenly feeling confined in the fabric. you were so close to the championship. this was the final game and if you won, you'd be a back-to-back national champion.

luke knew how hard you worked to get here. he often got voice memos from you, ranting about how practice and training wore you out, but he knew you got up bright and early the next day to do it again. you fell asleep on facetime calls often, sometimes only lasting ten minutes before you fell asleep on the call.

"it's starting," chris said, getting up from his seat. "i don't know if i want to watch or look away."

northwestern was up first. goal.

"fuck," travis groaned, echoing the sentiment of fellow unc supporters in the stands.

connor and travis were sitting behind him, both equally nervous to see how the game would unfold. you and clarisse had bought them unc merch to wear to the game, but luke and chris wanted to surprise you and clarisse with diy shirts that said "number [your jersey number/ clarisse's jersey number] biggest fan." you and clarisse both laughed when you saw their shirts. you loved them.

by the time it was clarisse's turn, the score was 1-0 (shootout) with unc trailing behind.

"come on, clar," chris hollered, clapping his hands, "you got this!"

clarisse masterfully maneuvered around northwestern's goalie and sunk the ball into the net. the boys and mr. d screamed in celebration as the score changed to reflect the goal. 1-1. unc was still in it.

clarisse pointed to the stands, eyes finding chris' in the crowd and blew him a kiss. chris beamed as he saw himself on the big screen. he pointed to his shirt, mouthing, "that's my girl!"

"i love how two days ago you guys had no clue how field hockey worked and now look at you," silena teased, adjusting the unc cap on her head.

"we still don't know what's going on, to be honest," luke replied sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck, "but this is the big game!"

"i get it," she said, nudging charlie, "i still don't understand football but i'm at my wits end every time i watch him play."

charlie chuckled, wrapping an arm around silena's waist, before cheering with the rest of the crowd when you stepped up for the shootout.

you were the last one to go and even that alone is a lot of pressure, but you were the tiebreaker for this shootout. the score was still 1-1. nobody has scored since clarisse, both goalies were brick walls and luke's heart was hammering in his chest.

"come on, five star," he whispered, biting his knuckles, "light work baby."

you took a deep breath and dribbled the ball. you were electric out there. you were strategic and quick on your toes. luke was mesmerized watching you play. he'd seen your tapes before, in preparation for this game just so he wasn't completely clueless walking into the championship game, but watching it in real time was something else.

you swerved around the goalie and hit the ball. luke held his breath. goal.

"let's fucking go!" you screamed, falling to your knees on the field as your teammates rushed to engulf you in a hug.

the screams from the unc fans were defeaning. luke was grinning from ear to ear as the boys cheered around him. chris wrapped an arm around his shoulders, shaking him relentlessly. luke couldn't contain his excitement, but he knew that he should let you have this moment with your team. he'll celebrate with you in a bit, for now, you needed to soak in this feeling. back-to-back national champion.

as the adrenaline from the win began to subside, luke and chris, with the help of mr. d, made their way to the field. chris wandered off to find clarisse and luke was standing on the sidelines as mr. d talked to your coach. he watched as you did your post-game interview. you were glowing and it took all his willpower to not run up to you and kiss you on national television.

when you shook the reporter's hand in goodbye, luke began walking over to you, only to stop in his tracks when a boy approached you. luke blinked, tilting his head as he watched the situation unfold.

the guy was... okay-looking. he was definitely an athlete too, based on his build and height. luke's assumptions were proven correct when he got close enough to see his unc basketball hoodie. the boy's eyes fucking twinkled while he spoke to you, a charming smile adorning his face that luke wanted to punch off his prince charming facade.

he watched as you took a step back from the boy, awkwardly gesturing somewhere in the stands. luke felt smug hearing you say, "well, i have a boyfriend and he's over there actually so i should go find him."

but the guy was not letting up. luke watched as the guy rolled his eyes, obviously unphased by your revelation. luke clenched his jaw, keeping his composure.

luke marched over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist to turn you around. he roughly connected his lips with yours, smirking inside when you moaned at the contact. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him deeper. his hands traveled up your spine, pushing you flush against his body. when the two of you pulled away, your eyes remained closed, a giddy smile on your face as you breathed out, "hell of a congratulations, castellan."

luke laughed, placing a quick kiss to your lips before turning to address the boy, "sorry, was i interrupting something?"

you had to cover your mouth to muffle the snort that came out of you. luke was staring at the boy intensely, lips in a tight line, as his hand squeezed the skin of your hip in possessiveness. the boy faltered, taking a step back in defeat. luke continued to shoot daggers at him, not deterred by the threat, or lack thereof, in front of him. eventually, the boy got the hint and walked away, shaking his head.

luke's cocky smirk was unstoppable as he faced you again, "great job, baby. national champ, again! look at you."

"thank you," you sighed, nuzzling your face into his neck. luke welcomed your public display of affection. "are we gonna talk about what just happened?"

he rolled his eyes, playfully, "nah, not worth it."

"yeah, but it was hot."

"then yes, let's talk about how hot you think i am."

"shut up," you replied, kissing him again. if this was your way of shutting him up, he wasn't going to complain.

[fandomtherapy44]

Stolen Moments PT 2 Spike x reader

Paring: Spike x reader

Warnings: SMUT, Blood kink, semi-public sexual situation, language

Summary: Y/n and Spike have some stolen moments in the alleyway of her work

Reblog Banner and 18+ Banner

and divider

cafekitsune

WC: 1,123

Hey, y'all, so I'm not dead, yay~ I've just been super busy with life, and I did take a break in January. But I am back, and I'm super excited for this year. If you guys like JJK, I have some Fics in the works, so I hope you stick around. Hope you enjoy!

I breathe in deeply smelling old coffee, bacon grease, and smoke wafting from my night shift customers. The ancient TV noise bleeding through its almost rusty speakers blends in perfectly with the atmosphere of the thirty-year-old dinner I work at. It being almost eleven almost lured me into thinking the rest of my shift would go smoothly, but I would be wrong. The ding of the door shakes me out of my thoughts. I yell out the same thing I would to any person coming in.

“I’ll be right there!” I go to make the cup of coffee that every customer gets. But then I heard his voice.

“It’s okay luv I can wait.” I almost drop the fragile cheap cup. My neck hairs stand up and I turn around.

“Spike...”

“Y/n.” I snapped right back into being professional because right now was not the time to deal with… what happened.

“Hi welcome have a seat anywhere I’ll be right with you.” I replied with what I like to call my disney princess voice I use with all my customers. He walks up to the crusty diner bar and leans against it.

“Luv please can we talk?” He stares into my soul trying to get a word out of me that wasn’t about food.

“Talk about sir?” I place the cup of coffee in front of him and act like we didn’t bear our souls to each other a couple of weeks ago.

“How about the fact that we fuc-” He started and my eyes went wide.

“I’m going on break!” I called out to my boss threw off my apron and stepped outside with lightning speed. The cold air hit me like a brick forgetting my jacket in the speedrunning I did to get away from my problems. In the chattering of my teeth and the shivering of my body, I didn't hear the door open.

“Here.” He handed me my coat. I took it and slipped it on.

“So can we talk now?” 

I sighed, kicked a rock, and nodded. 

“Why have you been avoiding me like the plague, trust me I would know.” 

I pick at my nails and think about what’s been building up in my mind like a dame waiting to explode.

“I… I don’t know Spike I just thought about everything not just that night but everyone and everything. And if we came together how everyone would be against us. I also feel like maybe I wouldn’t be enough for you.” I finished my thoughts looking down and not hearing anything I looked up just in enough time for me to see him kiss me. His lips fit on mine like a puzzle piece that the box has been missing. They were chapped like he had been chewing on them from nerves. I throw my hands around his neck and pull him in closer.

“Okay, one fuck whatever else thinks or says because I know what I feel and I know what I feel. And two you are my everything, you are the badass woman who somehow wiggled herself into my heart and is the only one that I will allow to keep my lighter. Not enough? I would die for you Y/n.” 

I hear his words and let them sink into my heart. He sees my head lost in thought and lifts my face to meet his.

“Let me show how much you mean to me.” I nod and he kisses me again.

18+..... Below cut

Our lips touched and it was like no time had passed since the last time we did this dance. This time his lips tasted sweeter, like a sweet Carmel that sits on top of a lovely coffee that hits you with the feeling of entering seventh heaven. We stumble backward hitting the bricked wall causing his leg to go in between mine.

“Mhh Spike we don’t have much time.” I somehow got out between the mushing of our bodies.

“Well, I just have enough time to give you a treat then luv.” He whispered in my ear nibbling into it.

I could feel my panties getting moist from that. He moves down his mouth to my neck getting magnetized towards my sweet spot him knowing it so well already. He bites down and in it let’s out his fangs. Some blood dripless down my neck. Pooling in my collarbone.

“AH, spike!” I groaned out. The feeling of ecstasy came over me like I never felt before. Even more than when we slept together. His fangs are released. His tongue finds the blood dripping down and licks over the sore spot soothing it. One of his hands travels down to my thighs and parts them just with two fingers. Spike leans down slowly teasing me. And pulls down my almost-soaked panties. He then lifts my leg to put on his shoulder and bites down on my inner thigh. He goes in even deeper than he did on my neck. 

“Spike! Be gentle!” I told him as he was drinking my blood.

“As you wish.” He let go and then goes up to my pussy and kitten licks it. 

“AH FUCK!” I yell out without meaning to. He starts licking up my pre cum that was leaking out. Not even going in yet.

“Does that feel good baby~” He purred out. And before not even letting me speak he pushes his tongue in with force. My brain goes into an overshock, body feels electrified. He starts to move it in and out like a finger. It moves around mapping out each inch. His other hand goes to play with my clit. Lightly touching it to not overstimulate me. I then feel him suck up. I think I’m about to cum but he let’s go.

“Spike~” I whine out and he surprises me by kissing me but gently this time like he was telling me that this meant something to him. What I didn't see was his finger go under my dress and go to my pussy and push in. I moan into his mouth and search for his tongue longing for more. He complies and meets me in the middle I can taste myself and it’s the same sweetness of the caramel. His finger starts pumping up at a nice steady and fast pace. Ringing around making sure to touch every spot that his tongue touched. He gets faster and faster more and more pre cum is coming out of me. With a suck of my tongue and a jaunt up in my pussy. I squirted all over his hand. We come apart breathing heavily. 

“So can I pick you up tomorrow at eight?” Spike carefully puts his non-wet hand on my face. 

“Yes.”