#just super slow realization seeping in

[blissfullyapillow]

Spoiling your boyfriend with your lavish funds ($$) & how he spoils you in return

Fem reader

wc: 3,872~

Summary: How you spoil your boyfriend with soft & cute scenarios

Characters: Welt, Sampo, Dan Heng, Luocha, Neuvillette, Blade

Pillow Talks: If I ever have a partner I’ll spoil them to the ends of the Earth. For now, I’ll just spoil myself. This is super fluffy.

Masterlist

⋮ Sampo જ⁀➴

Will not object, if anything he encourages your spending on him

You’d think he’d just take and take from you without a care in the world… and that’s partially true. He holds you dear to his heart so he’ll actually get you things too or perform surprising acts of service for you

Will fight for you, no questions asked

“Heyyyy babe, how was your day?” Sampo is at the door, greeting you after a long day of work. He’s already bending down to slip your shoes off your sore feet.

You chuckle at his eagerness. “I had a great day! You don’t have to do this for me you know, I am a perfectly capable and—“ “yeah yeah I know. I started the bath for you already. Oh, and I’m joining you.” Sampo ignores your pout, opting to kiss those pretty lips of yours instead.

You feel the fatigue of the day start to seep in as you return his kiss; all the fight you previously had in you vanishes. Sampo smirks to himself when he pulls away and you remain silent.

He wastes no time in leading you to your shared bathroom. Sampo offers to help you strip so you let him. Your mind is still slow and trying to catch up, so before you know it you’re being eased in a warm bath.

You sigh in content at the pleasant feeling of the warm water on your tense muscles.

Sampo apparently took the luxury of making the bath look pretty. You finally notice the little rose petals scattered about the water.

Speaking of Sampo, where is he? He said he’s get in with you.

Just as you look around the room for him he walks back in. “Sorry, I forgot to grab this.” Is all he says as he flashes you a cheeky smile.

He’s already stripped down so he moves to sit behind you. Before he gets in though, he tosses something into the water.

You curiously eye the little ball he threw in as be gets settled behind you. As pretty colors start to swirl in the water and a calming scent envelopes the room, you realize it was a bath bomb he threw in.

You watch in tired delight as beautiful colors swirl around in the tub. “I thought you wanted to use this bath bomb by yourself?” You sound tired as you murmur the words, and Sampo guides you to lean your back against him.

As your back meets his chest his arms reach over you to grab something. He situates himself again, and you feel something on your arms.

You jump at the unexpected feeling, but settle down when you realize he’s just cleaning you up.

“Heh. A little jumpy are we?” He dodges the hand you try to slap him with. “In regards to what you said earlier, well, I lied. I asked for that pack of bath bombs so I can use them with you.” Sampo’s words make you smile.

Sampo’s soft touches put you at ease. You find yourself closing your eyes as your body completely relaxes in his arms.

Sampo’s hands are soothing as he leisurely washes you from head to toe. You moan softly, feeling completely at bliss when his hands begin to massage shampoo (get it?) into your hair.

You feel so at ease that you may wind up falling asleep on him.

Sampo hums a quiet tune as he washes your hair for you. His voice was all you needed to finally enter a tranquil state of sleep.

Sampo smiles to himself, having accomplished his goal. He makes sure to clean you off properly before he leans back, allowing you to rest against him for a bit longer.

He’ll make sure to get himself cleaned up and get you out of the tub before your skin starts to prune, but until then, he’ll let you sleep against him.

You deserve it after all, for all that you do <3

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

┆Welt ₊ ⊹

He feels it should be the other way around

At first he adamantly refuses to ask for anything, until one day you present to him a small Arahato model that’s pretty accurate in nature. How did you accomplish this? Well, all you needed was Welt’s surprisingly detailed drawing. Money made the rest come to fruition.

You still remember the way Welt’s eyes got a little teary when you presented it to him, and how his eyes softened in what seemed like fond remembrance

Ever since you presented that model to him, Welt made a personal vow that he’ll protect you at any cost, against any force

You shift positions as you sit beside Welt on the plush seating of the sofa. Welt really wanted you to watch an old animated series he supposedly helped to create, and so that’s how you two have been spending this peaceful night together.

You’re both taking respite in a temporary abode on another planet, a well needed break after an intense trailblazing expedition.

The rain pounds against the roof of the building. Through the curtains on the windows you can see a flash of lightning.

At first you’re content. You’ve always loved thunderstorms; they provide you with a sense of comfort as long as the thunder isn’t too lou-

BOOM!!

You visibly jump besides Welt before you instantly curl into him and bury your face against his chest.

Welt remains silent but his arms instinctively wrap around your now trembling form.

Welt knows you usually don’t mind thunder since it’s rained like this on the planet before and you didn’t react this way.

He wonders why your reaction to the thunderstorm was different this time.

When you jump a bit at another absurdly loud thunderclap, he puts the pieces together.

It must be the sheer volume of the thunder. It was so loud even he was caught by surprise. It almost felt as if the building you two were in trembled in fear at nature’s frightening display of fury.

Welt hums to himself as he glances down at you. Your cheek is smushed against his chest and your eyes are squeezed shut. He can’t help but chuckle, finding this sight of you absolutely adorable.

He slowly lifts his free hand to rub your back in an attempt to calm you down.

Slowly, his hand moves along your back. Up and down. Up and down.

Welt feels his own body relax when you stop shaking. Your shallow breaths slowly become even once more. The rain continues to pound against the building, but lightning hasn’t struck for a long time now. Thankfully the thunder has long since ceased its boisterous declaration of fury.

Welt’s free hand moves to your hair, and he plays with it.

“There there. You’re safe with me. I won’t let any harm come to you. I promise.” His words are quiet, but they feel like a warm caress on your soul; a gentle embrace full of love and compassion.

You believe his words, and his promise fills you with a sense of peace.

Welt glances down at you once more, only to see a small smile on your lips as you begin to doze off. You slightly nuzzle your head on his chest as you get comfortable, and he swears he’s never seen anything cuter.

He promises himself that he’ll uphold that vow he made to you.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

♦ Dan Heng ⚛ 

He feels a bit awkward asking you for things so he tends to remain silent whenever you ask him if he needs or wants anything

Lucky for Dan Heng you’re an attentive listener!! <3

You went out of your way to buy him all the books he’s mentioned in passing that he likes and/or wants to read when he got sick during a trailblazing expedition

The look of pure surprise on his face made you smile

Going forward, whenever he happens upon a book he wants he’ll subtlety elude to it, blushing furiously all the while

He’s honestly the standard, so you’re more than happy to spoil him. He’ll find said book in his hands mere hours later

“Are you alright?” Dan Heng’s obvious concern makes you feel a bit guilty. “Yes sweetheart, I’m-“ you wince in pain as you fail to finish your statement.

You’ve managed to strain your back muscles, and it’s been difficult to walk around let alone do anything.

Dan Heng noticed your unsteady gait as you tried to hide your pain. Once he confirmed his suspicions he made you take it easy with him.

He knows if he lets you out of his sight you’ll try to be productive instead of resting like you should.

“Here, rest your head on my shoulder.” Dan Heng ignores your protests, and soon you're comfortably nestled at his side. He opens the book in his hand once more before he begins to read to you out loud.

His voice is so soothing. The ambience, coupled with the quiet sounds of water underneath his futon assist in lulling you into a state of tranquility.

You close your eyes as you listen to Dan Heng’s voice. It’s more of an informational book that he’s reading, but you couldn’t care less. You just like listening to his voice.

The pain doesn’t feel as bothersome since you took some pain medication but there’s still a dull ache there.

You feel Dan Heng shift a bit beside you, and almost as if he read your thoughts his fingers gently massage the sore area of your back.

You exhale; his fingers work wonders on your sore muscles.

You notice Dan Heng’s nearing the end of the page. You sigh since you know he’ll have to pull his hand away to flip the page.

To your surprise, Dang Heng doesn’t pull his hand away.

He continues to read to you.

You slowly open your eyes to see him holding the book in a way where he can flip the pages with his fingers using one hand.

“Dan Heng… you really don’t have to stay here with me you know.” You whisper solemnly. You’re surprised when all you get as a reply is his soft chuckle. “Don’t be ridiculous. I want to be here with you. You deserve to take a break, so relax. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is soft and oh so tender.

Your eyes meet his blue orbs, and the warmth in his gaze makes you shudder.

He leans in to press his soft lips against your own. When he pulls away, he presses another kiss to your nose before he resumes his previous position to read.

You wind up falling asleep like that, feeling much more at ease at Dan Heng’s side.

It takes him awhile to notice you fell asleep, but once he does he’s quick to close his book and lay you down beside him to sleep.

His eyes study the subtle rise and fall of your chest. They move up to admire the peaceful look on your face.

He moves closer to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him.

“You work too hard, and you spoil me more than I’d like. Please feel better soon, so.. so I can see that ethereal smile on your lips once more.”

He kisses your cheek. When his lips pull away, they subtly hover over yours.

He considers it for a moment.

He gives in to his hidden desire; His lips brush against yours, soft, lingering..

He smiles when you move a little in your sleep.

He kisses you on the lips again, and it feels like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

He groans at the feeling of your lips against his, and his heart flutters in his chest. He pulls away, since you are still sleeping, and his eyes linger on you.

“I love you.” He sounds so vulnerable, but it feels so right.

He falls asleep with you in his arms.

He makes sure to tell you those three words once more when you’re awake in the morning.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

┆Blade ‧₊˚✩彡

He’s the hardest person to do this for. He seriously doesn’t want anything. He’s content by just spending time with you

So, you spend your money on fun activities the both of you can enjoy together. Whether that be a stay at home DIY project or an outing to a fun amusement park, you're happy just to have Blade by your side

He appreciates your understanding, and he may not vocalize it all the time but he truly holds you close to the shattered remnants of his heart

You remind him that he is more than just a weapon

“Maybe the piece goes here?” You point to the edge of the incomplete puzzle piece. Blade takes a moment to study the area before he shakes his head in disagreement.

“I don’t think so. Look at the curve of this piece.” You lean closer to examine said curve, and Blade remains still.

“Hmm, you’re right..” You sigh as you rack your brain on how to fit the remaining puzzle pieces.

On your way home after a busy day you passed a store full of toys and fun trinkets, so you thought it’d be fun to walk in and see what they have.

You happened upon a rare puzzle that apparently only had eight pieces. It sounded like it’d be too easy to solve so you went to return it to the shelf. Before you could place the puzzle back on the shelf the bold words on the back of the box caught your attention.

Evidently, the puzzle in your hand declared itself to be a shape shifting puzzle. The directions explained that once you place a piece incorrectly every piece will shift into a new shape and you have to start all over. The fine print read that each transformation had a guarantee that the new shapes would fit together. 

You were sold.

You walked out of the store with the box in hand hoping that Blade would agree to solve this puzzle with you. 

Thankfully your wish came to fruition, and you’ve been enjoying the quality time spent with Blade. Blade, on the other hand, is getting adorably frustrated with this puzzle.

“I swear if I put this piece in and it transforms again..” Blade grumbles the words under his breath, and his obvious frustration makes you chuckle to yourself quietly.

He hears you, but the sound only makes him smile. He tentatively places the curved piece down in the spot you suggested. To your delight the puzzle does not transform.

After you two have been doing this for the past two hours, you both feel elated at the prospect of finally completing this puzzle.

With the last piece remaining on the table, you gleefully fit it into the appropriate spot. The puzzle shines brightly on the table, signaling your successful completion of the complex activity. 

A quiet noise of surprise leaves you when the previous image on the puzzle shifts. You watch with Blade as the image slowly transforms. 

When the transformation is complete, a dopey smile brightens your features at the image displayed on the puzzle.

The puzzle reflects a scene of the two of you. Blade’s expression is surprisingly soft as he gazes at you. You’re sitting close together, legs pressed against one another as you lean over him to examine the puzzle piece in his hand.

Your eyes slowly leave the scene depicted by the puzzle to look at Blade. A coy smile lifts your lips when you see the expression on his face.

His features are uncharacteristically soft, and his smile warm. He studies the scene on the puzzle with a look of endearment as his fingers reach out to gently trail along the edge of the puzzle pieces.

“How… beautiful.” His hushed voice elicits a coo out of you. 

Your smile is so wide your cheeks hurt.

His eyes finally leave the puzzle to look at you, and a knowing grin lifts his lips. His fingers move away from the edge of the puzzle to cup your chin instead. 

He wastes no time leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. You can feel the soft upward curve of his lips as he kisses you.

He pulls away from you with a soft sigh of content. As his arms wrap around you,  warmth blossoms in your chest.

You two spend the rest of the evening basking in each other’s embrace. 

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

⟡ Neuvillette ᐟᐟ☆

You spoil him rotten

Anything he wants is his. Literally. Even if you can’t get it right away, you will get it as soon as possible, just to see that bashful smile on his lips.

Lucky for your wallet, what Nevuillette’s heart yearns for most is you.

He really doesn’t ask for or want much in the material sense. He just wants to spend whatever time he has by your side, cherishing you.

You’ll buy him very ‘human’ things and teach him about them. Phones, coffee machines, you name it. You may or may not be addicted to the curious yet confused expression he makes whenever you present to him something new.

You two love each other so much it’s almost insufferable to watch.

“Neuvillette, look what I have to show you today.” Neuvillette turns to face you, excited at the prospect of something new. “What do you want to show me, my love?” Your smile is contagious as you present to him the item you were hiding behind your back. 

An old fashioned flip phone.

Neuvillette glances at the object in your hand with mirth in his gaze. “Ah, I see. This is the older version of the modernized phone, yes? A.. flip phone was it?” Neuvillette takes the phone from your outstretched hand as he begins to fiddle with it.

You find yourself comfortably seated beside him, your head resting on his shoulder as he examines the flip phone. “Humans have created such innovative objects. It’s fascinating.” Your heart warms at the innocent fascination in his voice.

Your fingers slide down his arm in search of his hand. Once your fingers bump against his hand, he intertwines your fingers with his. He gently sets the phone aside before he moves to face you.

His arms wrap around your form. The blissful sigh he emits causes your smile to grow and your eyes to close.

“I love you.” Neuvillette whispers the words against the crown of your head. Your cheeks warm when he places a kiss there afterwards. “I love you too, my sweet little otter.” You can’t see it, but Neuvillette’s eyes soften. His face reflects the warmth of a setting sun on an eventful day; his expression accurately depicts how warm and loved he feels through spending his days with you by his side.

Oh, he loves you so much. “You make me so proud. You work so hard, and you’re so strong.” His words wrap around your heart like a warm blanket.

“Ah, Neuvillette..” You can’t help feeling pleased by his sweet words of praise.

“Nothing in this world will ever bring me more joy than spending my life with you. If I were not the Iudex of Fontaine I would dedicate every moment of my life to loving you. You are truly a gift to the world, and most assuredly a blessing beyond comparison. You’re someone to be cherished for millennia to come, and forevermore. I will see to it that that is brought to fruition.” Neuvillette’s soft words bring tears to your lashes. 

He kisses each tear that falls with lingering lips and a radiant smile.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

⚜ Luocha ♡⸝⸝

You’ll spend the most doting on him compared to everyone else (minus Sampo)

You buy him all his fancy shampoos, coupled with elegant accessories to put in his luscious golden hair. He takes excellent care of it after all, and that won’t stop anytime soon.

He will try on anything you buy for him and wear it proudly. Literally. You can buy him a fancy suit embedded with diamonds and he’ll strut around like the model he is, and in the same breath he’ll imperiously show off the ugly discolored sweater you bought him and insisted he’d love (you were joking).

You always get doted on by Luocha in return. Some days he’ll pick you up with a pretty bouquet of flowers, all meticulously selected by him, and other days he’ll show up holding your favorite treat or tickets to that event you’ve been talking his ear off about

Luocha insisted on taking you out for a relaxing day off, convincing you that you deserve it for all of your hard work. That’s how you find yourself relaxing in a private hot spring, the water a pleasant remedy to your aching muscles.

You find yourself admiring your boyfriend’s luscious hair as he stands in front of you, his bare back facing your direction.

You languidly move through the water to stand right behind him, and your arms slowly wrap around his frame. He jolts, taken by surprise, but he visibly relaxes as you press lingering kisses along his bare shoulder.

“You could’ve given me a warning, you know?” His tone comes across as a bit sassy, so you nip at the skin of his shoulder with your teeth.

That gets him riled up; he gasps before he swivels around and basically smothers you against him.

You squeal as he assaults you with loving kisses and wandering fingers as they tickle your sides. Your howls of delight are loud and absolutely adorable to Luocha.

“You better watch how you use that mouth of yours.” Luocha’s smug tone irks you, but you’re currently at his mercy and have no means of retort.

Luocha stops tickling you once you’re gasping for air. His tender gaze on your figure makes you feel giddy as you catch your breath. 

“Luocha..” He shakes his head as he wordlessly moves to stand behind you. He gets to work, nimble hands massaging your shoulders, and your loud groan elicits a chuckle out of him.

“How many times do I have to reiterate to you that self care is essential to a healthy body and a healthy mind?” Luocha clicks his tongue in disapproval as he rubs out the tense knots in your back. 

You ignore his scolding. 

“With a sassy man like you in my life I probably need more self care than others… hey!!” You laugh as it’s Luocha’s turn to nibble at the skin of your shoulder with his teeth.

“Just be quiet and let me take care of you.” He insists, playfully reprimanding you for your comment. You allow him to do just that, your eyes closed the entire time as the warmth of the hot spring puts you in a sleepy, drunken daze. 

You may have fallen asleep while you were still in the hot spring, and Luocha may have had to carry you out. 

Well, at least you were able to relax and enjoy yourself, just as he intended.

[ghostlychief]

I gasped really loudly when I saw your post, can I request a thing with our baby girl, Master Chief? Like something cute with him reuniting with his s/o, or just something with him getting all the love?

i'm so glad we are on the same page about master chief being baby girl <3

--

goodnight n go

(you should listen to the slow version of goodnight n go by ariana)

master chief, John 117 x gen!reader

wc: 1473

warnings: none, just excruciating fluff

~*~*~*~

You were used to the wait.

You were used to the constant pining and apprehension that would seep through you every time you watched John walk into those battle ships, never knowing if the glimmer of his armor would be the last thing you would see of him.

Every time he left, you would just hope that he would return, and that you would be in his arms sooner rather than later. You could say that it has gotten slightly easier over the years, since John seemed to be made of luck. He always came back in one piece. Maybe a couple of scratches here or there, but he always came back to you.

Typically, when John was on his missions, you would keep yourself busy by overworking yourself in order to keep your rambling thoughts at bay. At first, your supervisors were wary about how much you were working yourself. But over time, they either gave up trying to convince you to go home, or realized how much it helped you to stay busy, to stay moving. You had to, otherwise you would go crazy just thinking about all of the danger John puts himself in every day. It didn’t matter if he was gone a few days, a week, or even a month. The time he spent away from you always felt like an eternity.

You were now standing in the loading dock, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hands clasped behind your back, looking out at the runway.

Homecoming days were always your favorite, and you always arrived at the dock much earlier than needed in order to greet the Blue team just as they arrived back on Reach. You’re pretty sure the other Spartans poke fun at John for it, but you couldn’t care less.  

You’ve probably been waiting for a little over forty-five minutes when you finally see that familiar pelican flying towards you. You know it’s him and his team because of the bright red Firebird painted on the nose of the ship.

The ship starts to land and gusts of wind make your hair ruffle, ruining all of the time and effort you put into it to look presentable. You quickly forget about your hair state when the door of the pelican slides open and those familiar Mjolnir shoes peak out, and begin descending the ramp.

John is always the last to exit, so as the other Spartan start to pass you, you briefly acknowledge them with a slight nod, but your eyes never leave the ship. They’re only looking for him.

Finally, finally you see the gold tint of his helmet’s visor and the infamous green glint of his armor.

Your feet have a mind of their own when they start moving towards him, breaking into a light job. Your face breaks into a breathtaking smile and when you finally reach John, you basically crash into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. You hear him slightly laugh through the comms from his helmet, and he returns your hug, lifting you off the ground with ease as he holds you tight.

“Hey, bug.” He sets you down gently, and runs a gloved hand down your head, cupping your cheek. His thumb softly moving back and forth on your warm skin.

You bring your hand up to his, and grasp it as you smile up at him, “Hey, you.”

~*~*~*~

A few hours later you find yourself in front of John’s door, waiting for him to let you in. It’s been a few hours since he touched down on Reach. You gave him some time to un-suit from his armor, debrief HQ, among other things. He’s a busy man, and there’s always at least one official that needs to talk to him.

Luckily for you, the mission he was just on wasn’t super long, and also not as critical as his past missions. Therefore, the debriefs didn’t take up the whole day like they usually do, and he was back at his apartment at a reasonable time (for once).

Which leads you to now, standing at his door, once again rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

The door finally swings open, revealing a smiling John, and he ushers you inside. He places his hand on the small of your back as you walk into his living room, making small talk about your walk over to his place.

It’s evening now, and John has the low lights turned on in his living room, giving the impression that his home is glowing. The comforting atmosphere wraps around you like a blanket as you go to sit down on his couch.

“So, what do you want to do? I have dinner made for us, but afterwards is completely up to you.” You run your hand down his arm, touched that he thought to make dinner for you. He was surprisingly a great chef, something you weren’t expecting when you first started dating.

“That’s an after-dinner worry, let’s eat then figure it out.” John lightly laughs and agrees.

You spend most of dinner asking him about his mission and he tells you all that he can (seeing that most of his missions are classified). It’s one of your favorite pastimes. He’s been all over the galaxy, to so many different planets and places and you love to hear all about these adventures through his eyes. You sometimes wish he would take you with him to these far-off places, no matter how unrealistic that is.

You guys decide to keep it simple and watch a movie after dinner, so you wrap yourselves under two big blankets, and John tucks you under his arm, your head resting on his chest. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing as his chest moves up and down. His steady heartbeat thrums through his chest, once again reminding you that he’s real and not a figment of your imagination. The laundry detergent that lingers on his clothes makes a feeling of ease wash over you because it always reminds you that you’re safe and that he’s here with you and that he’s okay, alive.

Your hand rests on his upper abdomen, and you can feel the taught ridges of his abs underneath his black t-shirt. You absentmindedly trace circles on him with your fingers and you feel his hand do the same on your shoulder. Your leg is thrown over his lap, and there is no inch of you that is not pressed up against John. You are completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, not even a piece of paper could fit between you guys. His hand comes up to rub your hair, and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.

“I missed you a lot, you know.” His chest rumbles as he confesses this and your heart warms at the sentiment, a slight smile pulls at your lips.

You squeeze him, and feel his arm tighten around you. You move to sit up straighter so you can look at him and your hand cups his face, your thumb brushing over the slight stubble that’s grown since he’s been gone.

You confess, “Me too,” then lean in to kiss him.

He deepens the kiss as his hand gently cups the back of your head. You and John exist in this diminutive pocket of time where it’s just you two, and nothing else. You find yourself slipping into this space whenever you’re with him, and never wanting your time here to end. Never wanting to enter the reality in which he leaves again. You push those thoughts away for now though, and just continue to exist as you are with him.

You finally break away from each other, and you smile at him, taking in every detail of his face. Your thumb traces over the scar that starts above his left eye, and continues down the side of his temple. You leave a kiss there.

Next, your eyes flit over to the jagged scar in the hollow of his cheek. Your lips softly press down there, tracing the line of the wound he got many years ago. When you reach the end of it, your lips are at the corner of his, and you place one last kiss there.

You break away, and quietly say, “I’m glad you’re here.” He gives you a longing look, his eyes flitting to yours and his hand smooths down your hair as he replies, “Me too.”

~*~*~*

You and John spend the remainder of the night wrapped up in each other, getting lost in each other’s touches and confessions, finding simple pleasure in just being able to be close to one another.

You think to yourself, the wait is always worth it for moments like these.

[lee-writes]

A Wet Morning

Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

words: 661

warnings: smut 18+, p in v, praising, ig sub!ethan, dom!reader, grinding.. (also not proofread!)

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You had woken up, it was super early and you definitely weren't getting out of bed anytime soon. Your boyfriend, Ethan was laying right next to you. Curls falling over his forehead. As you lay there looking at your boyfriend, you realize that your panties feel a little wetter than usual. A familiar craving feeling was in your core. Of course you woke up feeling horny. You glanced at Ethan, imagining his fingers in you, his cock in you, you riding his face. God you needed him so bad. In that moment, he wakes up. Rubbing his hand down his face and yawning. "G'morning." He says in a raspy voice. "Goodmorning baby." You say as you lay your head on his chest messing with his hair. "I'm really horny, can we fuck?" You get straight to the point. He was a little suprised at your straightforward suggestion so early in the morning. "Uh– yeah, yeah." He was never gonna say no to you. You were just so beautiful he couldn't resist. You smirk and sit on top of him, straddling him as he laid down. Ethan wasn't gonna lie, just seeing you like this on top of him, made him hard. You could feel his hard cock beneath you wish made you desire him even more. You start grinding on him through the layer of your panties to the layer of his sweatpants. Both of your mouths were open in awe at the sensation the two of you were feeling. You looked down and could see your juices seeped through your underwear and onto his sweatpants. Ethan noticed too which made him throw his head back. "Fuck.." He says softly, seeing you like this, so needy for him, drove him absolutely crazy. "You feel so good Ethan." You say with your eyes screwed shut. You could cum right now, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You stop and take your panties off. Ethan notices and quickly takes off his sweatpants and boxers. You grab onto his cock, giving him a couple strokes before sliding yourself onto him. He felt so deep in your cervix that you could just yelp. "Fuck, Ethan." You managed to get out. Ethan on the other hand was lost for words. Too lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him. His face was bright red. "Take it slow, okay?" He says, almost out of breath, not wanting to finish too fast. You do as he says and start going up and down slowly. Feeling his veins brush against your walls almost sent you over the edge. You let out a couple moans as you get used to him being inside you. Ethan whines as he hears your moaning and the lewd noises that echoed the bedroom. You just looked so gorgeous to him. You quicken your pace as your wetness soaks his cock. "You're doing so good baby." You whisper to Ethan. Knowing he loved being praised. He started to thrust into you as well, making sure you weren't doing all of the work. Ethan continued to whine as he felt his tip hit that spot deep inside you every time he thrusted. You felt him twitch and ache inside you, knowing that he was holding on a bit longer just for you. "Holy shit– i'm gonna come ethan." You crumble on top of him, feeling your orgasm release and take over your body. Your legs shook and Ethan continued to thrust into you slowly riding out your high. After you finished now it was Ethan's turn. "Hahh.. fuck." He slipped out of you and stroked himself as he came on his belly, a groaning and whining mess. His chest was heaving as he tried catching his breath. His face was completely red. "God that felt so good." He says under his breath. "You did so good, just for me baby." You say to him sofly as you lean down to kiss him.

[bestbouy]

i think i just love the idea of the different universes with their like, styles???

like how Gwen's is totally watercolor and Hobie's is all scrapbookish punk n newspaper, y'know???? and, of course, Miles and Pavitr's are both more "normal" but they still have that... you know... v i b e... they're both normal but they have elements that make it their own. Like how Pavitr's universe is mainly super warm colors?

anyways this got me thinking y'know how it's super obvious Hobie has a different universe style?? not so much for Gwen because hers is a little different, but with the whole. changing skin, the OUTLINE, it's very obvious

I think it'd be super cool if in Hobie's universe, it's kind of like the opposite for anybody who's not from it? They have their own like, radius of... their own dimension???

I'm only comparing this to Hobie's dimension, it's very obvious none of this would happen in CANON so I'm literally just spitballing. Also because Hobie is the only one with the outline and funny overlay thing, and it'd be fun to play around with the other three's possible like,,, vibe!!

Gwen would leave like, imprints of watercolor? like dabbing it on a piece of paper, leaving color that dries out back to normal over time?? it would bleed into the world around her, it might even mimic her emotions with the color!

If she was upset it would be harsh, spread more, it would come out in spiked reds and blacks?

happy would seep in a lot more subtly, and cover a lot more space, but you wouldn't realize how much room it's taking up just because it's so slow to take it up and really is only at about.. idk, 20% opacity, slowly builds up the happier she gets? it would be more visible in puddles, just like with normal watercolor (Compared to anger, which would be very in-your-face and obvious)

It would rely a lot on her emotions, methinks, the stronger they are, the more visible the color!

Miles would have a sketchy, drawing-like atmosphere to him, kind of like what you can see on the spot y'know? and, since the spot came from Miles' dimension, I think it makes sense!

It would be less noticeable, but the things he interacts with would probably turn into a slightly stylized version of itself? A cup he holds or drinks from wouldn't change DRAMATICALLY, but it might copy his look and have sketch-like lines around it. Nothing huge, but enough that you can tell what he's touched in the past few minutes/hours

Pavitr would have a similar vibe to Gwen's, but with warm colors instead! His effect wouldn't change with emotions like hers, but it would probably bleed in the same way as hers. He would leave behind trails of warm oranges and yellows wherever he goes and leaving it behind on what he touches. He wouldn't notice this, but it would be veeery obvious to Hobie or anybody from his dimension.

Actually, I think the way that we can spot Hobie because of his differences in outline/radius effect would highly apply to them in his dimension! Everybody in Hobie's world can CLEARLY tell that Gwen, Miles and Pav aren't from there, and while the common person might not recognize they're from another universe, they might get the same feeling as if you were seeing like.. a skinwalker, or something. They're human, but it doesn't feel like it.

ANYWAYS back to Pavitr

He has a warm, cozy vibe, I think unlike the others his can seep more into emotions, I think he's an empathetic person and that melts into his little area effect. if he's super happy or excited about something the people around him get a tiny bit happier too!! when he's sad (and it's rly hard to make him sad bc this boy is POSITIVE THINKER #1) his colors get a bit colder, but I don't think they would affect other people like his happy ones do, honestly just SEEING such a normally happy guy so sad would do enough to ur mood than some radius effect lol

ANYWAYS that's just a lil thought. they are silly. and this is going into my ideas folder. have a good one n remember to drink water

(I would go on but this is super long already XD)

[poraphia]

I saw some of your posts about Tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillains and I had never heard of it and now I’ve finished it in a day lol. Could you do a hero reader x siren where the hero reader knows Wilbur and siren knows the civillian reader and one day they’re in a battle and realisation and emotional shit goes on. I’ll leave you to decide what happens and whether someone dies :)

"Slow Your Breathing, Look At Me."

pairing • clinic!villain!wilbur x hero!reader 1958 words • 9.24.23 containing • depictions of weapons, deep wounds, broken ribs, angst, wilbur and reader are heartbroken my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

"Tell me you're not Siren. Tell me I'm not just some hero that fell in love with a supervillain."

♡♡♡

“WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT LET THEM GET AWAY!” Dream growled. Before he could utter another word, he used his telekinesis to throw a car at the flying Zephyrus.

The Syndicate had robbed the most successful and popularly known bank in L’manburg. Not only was it the bank thousands of citizens used, but it was also where most heroes got their paychecks. Meaning that there was the risk of the supervillains knowing the heroes’ identities. This caused headquarters to send out what Heroes we had available to fight against the Syndicate. Funnily enough, we were only fighting against the grand trio: Siren, Blade, and Zephyrus. The other heroes were on the hunt to find the other runaway supervillains who were previously on the scene.

I dodged through Blade’s sharp attacks, using my power of slowing down time to know exactly where his edges would land.

“Haste! I need your help!” I whipped my head around to find Rewind on the concrete. His leg was bleeding out from a nasty slice that nearly ripped to his bones.

“I got you!” I exclaimed. I sped past through the battles and bloodshed, narrowly dodging the flap of feathers and the muffled sound of a honey voice. The world around me was blurry, and I could only make out the figure of Rewind’s body heaving on the pavement. Once I was close enough, I picked up Rewind, holding him close, before carefully speeding past through the fighting yet again. I burst through the doors of a nearby building before running up the stairs as swiftly as I could. In a matter of seconds, we were by Supreme’s side. Supreme patted on the laid-out cushion he had set out before I placed Rewind down.

“Agh, I’m never going to get used to that…” He groaned, softly chuckling. I plopped down next to him as Supreme proceeded with his healing process.

“Pff, you’re going to be okay,” I reassured. He turned to me, a curious tilt turning his head.

“Hey, Haste, how do you control your powers anyway? If that isn’t a complicated answer—” He hissed in pain, feeling the alcohol sting his skin as Supreme cleaned his wound.

“Sorry!” Supreme quickly apologized.

“N-No worries—!” Rewind said through gritted teeth. I softly chuckled at his antics.

“Well, it was kind of a hard process. It took a lot of training to individually control my own speed separate from the world’s speed.” I explained. “It used to be ‘Oh I’m slow and everyone slow!’ or vice versa. But now it’s like… The whole world can be slow and I’m super speed! And if I’m ever holding someone, they can see what I’m seeing too!” I shrugged.

“Wow, I didn’t know it worked like that!” Rewind exclaimed, excitement seeping into his voice. I smiled, flattered that he took an interest in my powers.

“You’re all patched up Rewind! Be more careful next time.” Supreme said, dusting off his hands. We both looked down, not even realizing that the wound was already fully healed. “Thanks for sticking around to talk to him again, Haste. You know how squirmish Rewind can get when he’s not distracted.”

“Hey! Not true—!”

A loud crash interrupted Rewind’s banter. I stumbled over to the edge of the tower, only to see 404 throwing blades at Dream whilst Flame zapped fire under his feet. “Fuck!” I exclaimed. I sped down the stairs in a blurry haze before running across the street to tackle 404 down. “What was the command?!” I nearly demanded out of 404.

“It was only for me and Flame! He told us to take down Dream!” He explained briefly, but before he could say anymore, he pushed me off and his focus regained on Dream. Blade’s swords nearly slammed against me as I was about to get up. With speed, I was able to narrowly dodge my guts being spilled. I stumbled back onto my feet, running toward 404 and Flame. I looked behind me, realizing that Blade and Zephyrus were escaping. From the rooftops, I saw Rewind and Felis chasing after them. Turning back around, I realized that Dream was locked onto Siren, who was attempting to make his escape.

“Dream! I’ll cover for you, just get Siren!” I shouted, drawing out my shield. I swiftly ran in front of them, blocking both of them. Flame created a fire in his palms before nearly engulfing me in his creations. I pushed through the heat with my shield, only to be welcomed with daggers flying at me left and right. I slowed down time, carefully taking in how each dagger flew before brushing past each source of danger. I returned time to normal, waiting for their next moves.

A loud thud and a yelp of pain could be heard behind me. As I turned around, I noticed that Dream had Siren pinned against a building. Dream’s hand was raised as he pushed Siren’s body against the concrete, creating cracks surrounding him. I briefly looked back again to clear my way out of 404 and Flame’s attacks but I returned my gaze to the supervillain and hero. Dream was now close to him, a finger etching under his blindfold.

In one quick moment, Dream ripped the blindfold off of his face, and without realizing it, I was slowing down the world to near its max.

No.

No.

No…

I stood in the middle of the street, paralyzed.

The man I had met only a few months ago at a coffee shop.

The man who sat at my table one chilly autumn day after being relentlessly teased by his brother.

The man who I started developing a crush on and would blush when he would order my coffee for me.

He was here,

And he was Siren.

I felt my body charge up with speed, and without thinking, I was running at Dream and Wilbur headfirst. I tackled Dream down, making him lose his power over Wilbur before grabbing Wil and running with him in my arms. Despite the man being nearly double my height, the adrenaline told me I could bench fifty more of him if I had to. I eventually found an empty alleyway to hide in for the time being. As I stumbled into the space, the energy started to drain out of me. Time resumed back to normal as I carefully placed down Wil. I sat myself down in front of him, nearly collapsing. He only groaned in pain, weakly clutching at his ribs.

“Please… Wilbur…” I mumbled through heaving breaths. “Tell me you’re not in front of me right now…”

He didn’t speak. That action alone felt like taking my heartstrings and wrapping them around my neck. My head raced with a thousand thoughts at once, and barely any of them were comprehensive. I just wanted to know what holy being up there in the sky decided that this was my fate. That I had to be a hero in love with a supervillain. I felt sick to my stomach. Without a word, I got up, towering over the frail man. I raised a fist, causing Siren to instinctively start echoing his demand.

“Haste, go—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Wilbur!” I angrily ripped off my mask, throwing it down on the ground. “It’s fucking me! It’s (y/n), you piece of shit!” I felt the tears threatening to spill out, and for once, I let them. Gradually, they cascaded down my cheek and onto the concrete near where Wil’s foot rested.

“(y-y/n)..?” He asked, barely mustering the courage to go above a whisper. I nodded, my eyes refusing to leave his giant, glossy ones. My heart was pounding against my chest as if it threatened to break out and punch Wilbur in his stupid face.

I didn’t know how to feel. I felt anger, shock, heartache, confusion, and distress all at once. As I was absorbed in my head, I didn’t realize his hand was etching toward mine, quietly wrapping his hand around my index finger as he sooth my knuckles with his thumb. I shook my head and looked at him.

“I— I didn’t know this would happen. I’m sorry— I didn’t know either. Oh God, this is all my fault.” He stumbled through his own trembling words. “Dream is probably on the lookout for you now. Y-You need to kill me! I don’t want you to get in trouble!” He cried. I stepped back, shocked at his pleas.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Wil?! I don’t care that I’m in trouble right now, I need to get you to safety!” I yelled back, frustrated. “Contact your healer— Apollo, was it? I-I could hold back Dream I just need you to make it out here alive.” I drew out my shield again, causing Wil to nearly lunge at my legs. He only groaned in pain as he landed near my feet, but he held on tight to my ankles.

“No, (y/n)! He already saw you save me. He’s going to hurt you—!” Wil clutched at his chest again, hissing out swears. “Please, I’m not going to lose you!” He cried. I looked down at him. My chest tightened at the sight of him desperately pleading for my life, despite his broken ribs and body. I crouched down in front of him to stroke his untamed hair. His heaving slowed down as my fingers soothed him ever so slightly.

I sighed, looking at him. “Consider this my resignation from the Heroes of L’manburg. If I have to be put up against someone that I consider one of my closest friends, then call me a villain or weak, but I would never take your life under any circumstances.”

Wilbur paused in his movements. His grip on me started to loosen as I stepped back. “Again, Wil, contact your healer.” He lifted his head up to face me. Tears were running down his face with the expression of a puppy who got kicked in the stomach. I smiled at him reassuringly. “I’ll see you at the coffee shop next week, okay? I…”

I wanted to say the three words. The words I had been begging to say the moment I realized that I could imagine a future with this man. Instead, I bit my lip and exited out of the alleyway and onto the street.

“Oh, Dream~!” I sang out. “Guess who’s fucking resigning!” I twirled on one foot, flaunting myself as the ultimate distraction. I gritted my teeth and inhaled sharply, finally letting the anger boiling inside of me out.

“COME AT ME YOU SMILEY BITCH!”

Wilbur was sprawled out in the alleyway. His hand shook as he reached to click on his earpiece. Immediately he was met by the worried voice of his brother.

“Siren! Siren, where the fuck are you?!” Apollo shouted.

“I’m in an alleyway a few blocks from where the fight originally was. Dream crushed my ribs and nearly saw my identity.” Wil gasped out.

“Oh, for fucks sake man,” Apollo mumbled. “Okay, I’m turning back around! I’ll see you in a moment!”

“W-Wait,” Wil stuttered. “Get the others too. We’re going to need them.”

“Huh, why?” Apollo asked, concern glossing in his voice. Wil, in turn, chuckled as he flipped his body over. His eyes were fixated on the stars twinkling in the night sky.

“Let’s just say, we have a new supervillain we’ll need help smuggling in.”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ hey hey heyyy hope you guys enjoyed this little angsty thing. i've been writing a lot of angst haven't i? oh well. i am flying through these requests! notes of all kind are super duper appreciated!!

[munson-blurbs]

Hi! Just found your blog and saw you were looking for ideas.

A best friends to lovers trope that gets super smutty 🥵? I'm a sucker for it

- @eddiesprincess86

Eeep I love this trope, too!

Warnings: so much smut (18+ only minors DNI!!!!), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, piv, protected sex, language, pet names, angst

WC: 3.5k

A/N: getting requests seriously makes my whole day. Please keep them coming (no pun intended) &lt;3

--

It was the silliest action that had you falling for your best friend. Almost ridiculous, really. He was driving you home from work a few months ago, like he did every Thursday when you worked the closing shift. He’d browse the library for the new fantasy releases until you clocked out.

“I’m ready to go!” you announced, exhaustion evident in your voice.

“Your chariot awaits,” Eddie says as he walks you to his van. There’s a group of teenage boys smoking outside, leering at you, but they leave you alone when they spot Eddie by your side.

“Can I hire you to be my bodyguard?” you tease, opening the van door. The smell of stale cigarettes, weed, and Eddie’s cologne hits you as you climb in. He closes the door behind you.

“Depends. What’s my salary?” he jokes right back, turning the key in the ignition.

You pretend to consider this seriously. “Hmm,” you ponder, tapping your finger to your chin. “If you’ll be my bodyguard, I won’t tell anyone that you secretly love Grease and have a massive crush on Olivia Newton-John.”

“First of all,” he starts, keeping his eyes trained on the road as he lectures you, “everyone loves Olivia Newton-John. And second, you’re supposed to be keeping that to yourself, anyway. My salary needs to be something in addition to keeping your big mouth shut.”

You’re about to threaten to spill the beans all over the morning announcements when a sports car zooms around the van, cutting Eddie off and then slamming on the breaks as a sudden curve materializes. 

“Holy shit!” Eddie curses loudly and swerves onto the shoulder.

And that’s when he does it.

He puts his arm out in front of you, even though you’re wearing a seatbelt. His calloused hand grips your bicep as he multitasks keeping you and the vehicle safe. 

“I am so sorry,” he apologizes, even though what happened clearly wasn’t his fault. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, Eds,” you croak, heart beating out of your chest for multiple reasons. “Just shaken up.”

“You sure? No bumps or bruises?” Concern seeps into his face as the adrenaline dies down. He uses his thumb to move your chin to him so he can get a better look.

“Positive. W-what about you?” you ask, realizing that he wasn’t buckled in. 

He rubs his side and winces. “Got thrown into the gear shift. Gonna leave a nasty bruise, I bet.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell everyone you got it fighting a bear,” you attempt to crack a joke, hoping to get him to smile. He’s too deep in thought to process it.

“I thought--I was scared you got hurt,” he blurts out. “Never would’ve forgiven myself if something happened to you.” He massages the back of his neck, hair sticking to his skin where he’s started to sweat.

“Eddie, I’m okay. And if something did happen, it would’ve been that idiot’s fault,” you gesture to the empty road where the other driver cut you off, “not yours.” And maybe it’s because you’re too rattled to think straight, or maybe because it just seems right, but you grab his hand and squeeze it tight. “Take a breath. Wanna stay over at my place so you don’t have to drive all the way home? You can crash on the couch.” Or in my bed, you think, but you don’t dare say.

He nods and slowly pulls back onto the main road.

~

Eddie’s feelings towards you were much more of a slow burn, but they most certainly were strong.

He was in denial about it at first, forcing himself to look away from the swing of your hips, tearing his gaze from your lips as you sang along to whatever played on the radio. He tried to feign annoyance when you interrupted him at Hellfire to tell him about your college acceptance but couldn’t bring himself to do it, wrapping you in a hug and spinning you while the rest of the club looked on in bemusement. The fact that he thought about you all the time, wanted you to wear his Dio vest proudly, imagining throwing his arm over your shoulder and kissing you softly during your weekly movie nights--those were normal, right? Just regular thoughts a guy has about a girl.

And there were more sexual thoughts, but those were just par for the course. Every man fantasizes about undressing his female best friend, reaching his hand around your waist to pull you closer, pressing rough kisses into your neck, across your chest, down your stomach, until he reaches your...right?

Okay, maybe not so normal.

But he can’t hide his feelings one night about two weeks after the near-accident when you call to cancel on movie night.

“Sorry, Eds. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?” you apologize as you apply mascara to your lower lashes.

“Everything okay?” he asks, tucking the phone under his ear as he flicks on his lighter and smokes a cigarette. It’s a bad habit, and he’s trying to quit, but when something upsets him, it’s his go-to vice.

“Yeah. I have a date tonight,” you confess. It’s with the barista at the coffee shop you frequent. The guy isn’t really your type; a bit too sure of himself and too flirtatious with everyone, but you’re desperate for anything to get you over this silly little crush on Eddie.

“Oh.” There’s disappointment in his voice. “Yeah, okay. Have fun, but not too much fun,” he tries to tease but can’t manage to get the joke across.

“Don’t be too sad. I know it was your night to pick the movie, but you can pick it two weeks in row,” you offer.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks, thinking that maybe he can talk you out of the date if he can talk to you beforehand. He just needs to figure out what to say.

“Nah, I’m good. He’s gonna pick me up at my house,” you reply while trying to figure out what to wear. “Purple shirt or yellow shirt?”

“Huh?”

“Should I wear a purple shirt or a yellow shirt?” you repeat to clarify.

You look good in either, but the yellow really makes your eyes sparkle, Eddie wants to say, but only says, “uh, yellow.”

“Thanks!” you chirp. “Okay, gotta finish getting ready. You’re the best, Eds. I appreciate you understanding.”

He understands, all right. He understands that he needs to get you off of his mind before he drives over to your place and tells you how he really feels.

He grabs a single beer from the kitchen, then doubles back and takes out the whole six-pack. It’s your favorite, he’d bought it just for movie night tonight, but now he’s just going to drink them all himself. Fuck it.

~

The phone wakes him the next morning, a bleating sound in his throbbing head. “H-hello?” he grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Did I wake you?” he perks up slightly at the sound of your voice, grimacing as his joints crack. “It’s almost noon. What are you, 16?”

“If I was 16, I would have a killer hangover from just a six-pack,” he says without thinking.

“You drank a whole six-pack? By yourself?” you hiss. “Is this what happens when I’m not around to babysit you?”

“Guess so.”

“Well, I was hoping we could make our Saturday evening movie night into a Sunday afternoon movie day?” you ask hopefully. “I can bring some greasy food for that hangover, you old man.”

Eddie wants nothing more than to snuggle with you on the couch, eating fries and watching movies half-asleep. But he can’t allow himself that luxury anymore. You’re going to be someone else’s, if you aren’t already.

“Nah, I just wanna sleep off this hangover,” he replies finally. You feel the disappointment sink into your stomach. “I’ll talk to you soon.” There’s a soft click and the line goes dead.

“Ookay,” you say to no one in particular. Eddie had never hid from you when he was hungover; in fact, he was usually the one calling you to bring him aspirin because he never kept any at his place. You try not to overthink it, but there was definitely something weird going on with Eddie.

~

You’d been looking forward to your Thursday shift so that you could talk to Eddie about what had happened earlier that week, but he never showed. You called your home voicemail from the library phone, but the automated response announced “zero new messages.”

You’d take the bus here like you usually did, but you really didn’t feel comfortable waiting at the bus stop alone at 9 PM. Luckily, your coworker offered you a ride home.

“You live on Archer Street, right?” she asks as she exits the parking lot in her sedan.

“Yeah,” you respond softly. “Actually, could you take me to Forest Hills Trailer Park?” When Wayne had moved into an apartment with a new girlfriend, he let Eddie continue to live in the trailer. “Already took over the whole damn place,” he’d gruffly said.

Your co-worker arches her eyebrow. “That where your boyfriend lives?” 

“He’s just a friend.” Maybe he wasn’t even that anymore.

She laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, like you’d just told a hilarious joke. “Whatever you say.”

~

You bang on the trailer door loud enough to wake the dead. You’re sure that Eddie’s neighbors don’t appreciate it, and one even shouts shut the fuck up out his window, but you couldn’t care less.

“Eddie Munson, you’d better have a really good excuse for bailing on me tonight!” you call out angrily, still pounding on the door. A light goes out in his bedroom. “I saw that!”

The door flies open. Eddie’s standing there in plaid pajama pants and an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt. 

“Eddie, what the fuck?” You push your way into the trailer, not eager to annoy any other neighbors. “You didn’t pick me up from work! I had to bum a ride like an asshole.”

“Sorry,” he shrugs, but he certainly doesn’t seem it. “Figured your new boyfriend would be there.”

“Why does everyone keep assuming I have a boyfriend?” you hiss to yourself.

“Because of that date you went on? When you ditched me?” Eddie remarks snidely.

“At least I called to let you know I wouldn’t be there!” you retort. “And that guy isn’t my boyfriend. The date sucked, he was insufferable, and I would’ve told you all this if you picked me up from work!”

“Maybe you can get a car then.” He crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Oh, great idea,” you roll your eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll just have my rich parents buy me that new Benz I’ve been wanting.”

“Sounds good to me.” Eddie opens the trailer door and waits for you to leave.

“Y’know what? Fuck you,” you spit venomously. “I miss one movie night and this is how you treat me? Like you haven’t missed any for one of your shows, or to pick up an extra shift?”

“‘S not the same,” he mutters. “I didn’t do it for someone else.”

You laugh. “So I’m never supposed to meet anyone? Just you and me watching movies, never going on dates or getting married or having kids?” You take a deep breath. “Or do you get to do that, while I just sit around at your beck and call?”

Eddie sighs. “You done?”

“Yeah, sure. Here’s a parting gift,” you flip him the bird and start to leave, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

“You’re right,” he starts, shuffling his feet. “But if I’m being unfair, then you’re being oblivious.” He walks towards you, repositioning his hand so it’s holding yours. “Why do you think I got so upset that you missed movie night?”

“Because you’re a giant man baby?” you say meanly, trying to pull away.

“Maybe,” Eddie offers a small chuckle. “or maybe it’s because I didn’t want you going on a date with some other guy.”

Some other guy. Other. “You mean a guy that isn’t you,” you state flatly. “Except you won’t ask me on a date, so I’ll just say single forever then.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you want me to take you on a date?” He smiles, which you mistake for him laughing at you.

“Forget it. I thought we could have an actual adult conversation, but--silly me--I forgot that Eddie Munson doesn’t solve problems; only makes them and runs away.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. “Low blow there, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Makin’ it real hard for me to ask you out.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” you shoot back. “And don’t call me sweetheart. I’m not your fuckin’ sweetheart.”

He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “Favors, huh? You think me asking you out is a favor? Let me tell you, then, why this isn’t me doing you a favor,” he growls. “Y’see, I’ve been wanting to be with you for a long time. Be with you in every sense of the word.” His eyes assess you hungrily. 

“Never allowed myself to do anything past imagining because I didn’t think you felt the same way. But I also couldn’t picture you being with someone else, so when you were, my brain, like, imploded.”

You chew your bottom lip nervously. “So, what did you imagine?”

“Heh. Well, I imagined taking you to that Italian restaurant you keep talking about, drinking some wine, you wearing lookin’ stunning as always.” He’s uncomfortable talking about his feelings, you can see that, but you’re not letting him off easy. Not after he left you stranded at work.

“And then I’d drive you home, walk you to your door, maybe hold your hand or somethin’,” he mutters, pink flooding his cheeks, “and then give you a kiss good night.”

You offer a small smile. “Am I supposed to believe that your fantasies end with a little good-night kiss?” you tease gently, flirtatiously, leaning in closer to him. The scent of cigarette smoke clings to his body, and you realize he was probably chain smoking from the stress.

“You really wanna know?”

You nod. “You could tell me, or...” you swallow, “you could show me.”

With that, Eddie hoists you up, kicking the trailer door shut with his foot. He’s kissing you passionately, your tongues intertwining. His hands squeeze your ass as you work yours through his hair. He moans into your mouth and places you on the counter. He stations himself between your legs, pressing himself against your crotch.

After another long kiss, he pulls away, much to your chagrin. “Did I get my point across?”

You shake your head. “I’m still unsure about your intentions. Need you to be more upfront.” Gathering all your courage, you lift your shirt above your head, exposing your lacy pink bra. “Like that.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes. “Okay. Okay, now I’ll--” he fumbles a bit but removes his own shirt. You take your finger and trace his happy trail to where his boxers peek out above his jeans.

“My turn.” You start to unclasp your bra when he stops you.

“Please, let me,” he begs, eyes widening. “Please.” He reaches behind you to take it off, and you shiver at the intimacy. Your bra drops to the ground and he immediately takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it and groaning your name. You throw your head back, nearly smacking it on a cupboard.

“Eds,” you whimper, “can we go to your room?” You scoot down off the counter but he doesn’t let your feet touch the ground. 

“Wanna hold you.” He feels like he has to remind himself to breathe, because every thought in his head is just you. He carries you to his bed, laying you down and climbing over so he’s straddling you.

“God, I could just stare at your tits forever,” he says finally. “Thought about ‘em so many times, sweetheart.” His head snaps up. “Wait, can I call you that now?”

You giggle. “Yes, Eddie. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you keep touching me.”

“Good.” He’s relieved; he loves his little pet names for you. He grabs your hips to lift them, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. Your panties are nothing fancy, just a pair of white cotton bikini underwear, but he takes in the sight like you’re a work of art. To him, you are.

Eddie is so stiff, his erection pressing into your thigh. It hurts you, so you know it must be killing him. You loosen his pajama strings and he visibly relaxes from the relief. He can’t get his pants off fast enough, nearly falling off the bed trying.

“We have all night,” you murmur into his neck, kissing and sucking and biting, leaving behind a tiny trail of red bruises as evidence of your presence.

“I’m in no rush, baby. Just wanna touch you all over. Dunno where to start,” he says sheepishly. It’s both sexy and sweet how overwhelmed he is.

“How about you start here,” you suggest mischievously, pressing his hand to you clothed pussy, “and I’ll start here.” You spit into your palm and take his cock out of his pale blue boxers, and he groans.

“O-Okay,” he stutters, falling over his words as he tries to concentrate on rubbing your clit while you pump him. “S’wet for me, Y/N. Barely even touched you.”

“That’s what you do to me,” you whine as he moves his thumb in circles. A bead of precum forms at the top of his dick, and you sit up to lick it off, sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

“C-Can’t tease me like th-that.”

You shrug. “Fine. Won’t touch you at all, then.” You lay back down as he pouts. “We’ll see who caves first.”

Refusing to back down from a challenge, Eddie physically rips your panties down the middle. You don’t even have time to be shocked before he’s plunging his tongue into you.

“Taste even better than in my fantasies,” he moans into you, and you immediately lose your own bet, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he eats you out.

“Eddie,” you buck your hips into him, allowing his tongue to enter you further, “gonna cum,” you choke out before climaxing on his face. 

He licks a stripe over your soaked hole and looks over at you, then his nightstand. “Grab a condom,” he instructs you, then, with a sneer, “or did you go on the pill for your little date?”

“N-no. Just want you, Eddie.” You hand him a foil packet as he tears it open and rolls it over his length.

“All for me, huh?” He pushes himself halfway, eyes meeting yours to ensure you’re comfortable. When you give him a nod and a whimper, he slowly thrusts inside you. The heat of pleasure washes over you, spreading through your tummy.

You need him deeper, so you wrap your legs around his neck. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he exhales. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum right now, I swear. Fuck.”

“Do it,” you urge him, half-daring and half-begging. You want to make him feel good, better than anyone’s ever made him feel.

He pumps harder and harder, hitting your g-spot each time until another orgasm courses through your body. You tighten around his cock and he knows his own release is imminent. 

“This is all for you, Y/N. All for you, baby girl,” he punctuates it with a final thrust before cumming, hard.

You lay on his bed, panting. Between the intensity of the orgasm and the person who gave it to you, you’re barely able to catch your breath.

Eddie’s low voice snaps you out of your stupor. “So, uh, we just did that.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks at you with his doe eyes.

“Yeah, we sure did,” you confirm awkwardly. Where did this leave you? Your friendship? Did you just shake hands and part ways? Act like nothing happened?

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts slowly, “I’m glad we did. But, um, I wanted to wait until after our date. Didn’t want you to think this was just a hook-up or anything.”

Your ears burn, feeling like he could read your thoughts. “You’re really gonna take me out on a date?” It comes out with a little squeal, but you’re too fucked out to care.

Eddie laughs a kind, sweet laugh. “Of course. Want you to be my girl. I don’t want to do life without you, sweetheart.”

“Tell me the time and place, and I’ll be there. But first,” you say, rolling over to stand up, “I owe you a movie night.”

[izurou]

THE AIR BETWEEN US FT. SUNA RINTAROU

synopsis: your best friend comes to a realization when you go out on a date — leaving him all alone in his brand new home.

contains: female reader. best friend suna. brief mentions and allusions to marriage. reader is a bit oblivious to rin’s feelings. swearing. lotta banter. one small part features jus rinnie (while reader is on her date) 2.8k words.

note: okok i’ve never written smth like this before but i’m so super proud of it and had so much fun ?!? ahhhh :’)

rintarou’s apartment is warm.

a little place about five minutes from the heart of downtown—rather mundane, and lacking a bit of everything. he has a few decorative pillows and other small trinkets, most of which were pawned off on him by his mother as he was moving out.

almost everything else he now owns was bought on a whim, with no regard for how any of it would tie together in a room. luckily, he had no desire for colour, and opted for neutrals when available.

his home is often quiet, lifeless—whether he’s there or he’s not, varying shades of navy blue seep through the blinds and cast dark shadows onto his walls.

he’s adjusting to it—the solitude. getting himself out of bed every morning, no incessant nagging from his father about it being half past noon, no music blaring from his younger sister’s room. it’s just him, the buzzing of his toothbrush, and the little sticker on his bathroom mirror that reads hello gorgeous, courtesy of atsumu.

and yet, out of the handful of times you’ve been there, the space has felt nothing but alive—with artificial orange hues filling the rooms, and the scent of freshly sprayed linen hanging in the air. even with the crisp breeze floating in through the wide open windows, it’s warm.

but sometimes, it’s incredibly loud.

“professional big spoon?” you hear him howling from the kitchen, mock and hilarity woven into each syllable—and immediately, regret starts to bubble in your chest.

you have a date tonight, soon. it’s nothing more than a casual dinner, with a guy you recently met on a dating app. he’s cute, tall, friendly—which is already more than you could say for most of the men on there, so why the hell not?

of course, upon hearing about the whole ordeal your best friend insisted that you come over the day of. you knew he’d want to poke his nose in your business and ask about the man—but the more rintarou talks, the more you begin to think he invited you here just to ridicule your match.

“this has gotta be the world’s douchiest bio,” he scoffs, furrowing his brows as he stares down at the screen. “6’2 my ass.”

he mutters the last part under his breath, opening his near empty fridge in search of something to wash down the sour taste flooding his mouth.

“what does he gain from lying about his height?” you chime, slipping into the room and watching as rintarou tilts his head back, chugging the remainder of yesterday’s gatorade.

he wipes at his mouth with the back of his palm, shifting his gaze over to you. quickly—he allows his eyes to travel from your head down to your feet, and back up once more.

hm.

“more matches,” he shrugs, leaning against the edge of the countertop and averting his attention back to the screen. “a little confidence, maybe.”

“so, you lie on your dating profile too?” you quirk a brow, tossing your jacket over the back of a of dining room chair. you slink a bit closer, preparing to snatch your phone back as soon as the chance presents itself.

“i don’t have to,” he huffs, jerking his hand away mere seconds before yours comes swooping in. “too slow, thanks for coming out though.”

“rin, stop fucking around,” you grumble, tugging on his arm as he holds it above his head. “you’re going to be the best man at our wedding, right? might as well practice not being a giant ass while you still have time.”

tch.

“hey, easy lovebird,” he hisses, feeling your nails dig into the skin on his wrist. his nose scrunches up and his brows furrow—a grumpy, get the hell away from me face you know all too well. placing the base of his palm flat against your forehead, he lightly pushes you away. “i’ll definitely be the best man there, but i’m not giving any speeches.”

“whatever, give me back my phone,” you mutter, glancing at rintarou’s brand new, never been and hopefully never will be used oven. “we’re meeting at eight, i have to go.”

“here, might wanna declaw before you leave,” he hands over the device and frowns, rubbing at the subtle red line forming near his elbow. “fuckin’ gremlin.”

you ignore his comment, reaching for your jacket and slipping the leather onto your arms. you fiddle with it, shifting and repositioning the fabric until it sits on your shoulders just right. it’s a bit oversized, but not too much, and it compliments the black lace trim on your cami. at least, you think it does.

“do i look okay?” you ask, peering up at rintarou who, is now wrist deep in a bag of calbee hot and spicy potato chips.

“mmm, you look like you do every day,” he replies through a mouthful.

“wow, i’m sure there’s thousands lining up to hear that one,” you laugh, and something resembling a smile forms on his lips.

“what can i say?” he agrees, weakly gesturing to himself before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking the flavouring off. he strolls over to the front door, where you’re already reaching for the knob—trying desperately to flee. “hey, text me later, okay?”

“will do,” you assure.

“and have fun,” he adds, leaning his head against the doorframe as you step out into the hall. “but not too much.”

“yes, mother, bye now.”

he watches you practically skip down the narrow, dimly lit corridor until you disappear around the corner—and again, he’s alone.

⋆

rintarou props his feet up on his little black coffee table, aimlessly flipping his way through netflix—searching for something, anything to distract his saboteur mind.

it’s dark, the sun has long been set, and hues of navy blue bleed past the blinds. the streetlights outside paint the shadow of a tree onto his living room wall, though it resembles something much more frightening—a monster. could it be the same one who used to hide under his bed when he was a kid?

he continues to scroll until he comes across an anime, ouran high school host club. huh, you like that one. not his cup of tea by any means, but it’ll do—it’s just something to fill the silence after all. a shiver greets rintarou’s spine as he presses play, and he instinctively nuzzles into the collar of his sweatshirt. it’s cold.

craning his neck back, he narrows his gaze onto the window—wide open and practically begging for the frigid air to waltz right in. he inhales, shuts his eyes, and exhales. it’s too far.

he blindly throws his hand over the back of the couch, patting around until he feels the familiar fluff of his old rick and morty blanket. usually, it’d be sitting at the foot of his bed, but he just so happened to be in a similar predicament before you arrived late this afternoon.

he spreads the fleece over himself, and it barely covers three quarters of his body, but it’s a hell of lot better than nothing. he tugs his sleeves over his balled up fists and crosses his arms over his chest, allowing his eyes to close once more.

yes, this’ll do. he can feel himself drifting off, becoming less aware of the sounds emanating from the television, less aware of the nagging thoughts feeding off his brain—except, for one.

vows don’t count as speeches, do they?

⋆

rintarou wakes to a low buzzing—vibrations that stem from the pocket of his hoodie and roll up his torso. someone’s calling.

he reaches, but his hand is forced to take a detour to the back of his neck, where a kink is in the midst of settling into the muscle. a few profanities slip out, all directed at himself for not laying down like a normal nap taking human.

“yeah?” he answers, leaning his head against the back of the sofa while pressing the device to his ear. he didn’t bother reading the contact name—he hasn’t heard from his mother at all today, and she’s made a daily habit of checking in on him, asking if he’s eating proper meals and doing his laundry.

at this point his microwave has stolen the title of best friend right out from under your nose, and there’s a basket of clean clothes that’s been in the corner of rintarou’s bedroom for the past three days. still, he always answers yes.

“rin, did i wake you?”

wait—it’s you. what time is it?

“oh, hey. yeah, you did,” he yawns, squinting at the tv, where a few boys in purple uniforms are talking about—fancy tuna? you are so weird. he pulls back for a moment, peering at the numbers sitting at the top of his screen—9:13 pm. “you home already?”

“no, i’m still here.”

shit, he better start practicing his i object.

“well? did they give him a booster seat?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but his expression remains deadpan.

“he didn’t show up, rintarou.”

yes, maybe he doesn’t have to.

“huh? so you’ve just been sitting there?” he asks, using a finger to push the fluff on his blanket from side to side—against the grain, and with.

“yeah, i had hope for a while.”

he wants to say something—but he can’t decide on what. is this the appropriate time to insert a short joke? usually, he wouldn’t give it a second thought, especially when it comes to you. you’ve been there for at least eight of his top ten most unsavoury comments—such as when he felt the need to guess how many husbands your english teacher has had throughout the years while she stood not two feet away—only to settle on none.

yet, the thought of you sitting all alone at a table somewhere—dolled up and waiting for someone who never even planned on coming in the first place—has the wings of every butterfly in his stomach wilting, causing them to nosedive into his bottomless pit of gatorade and potato chips.

so, he finally decides.

“i’ll come pick you up,” he blurts out, shoving rick and morty off to the side before rising to his feet.

“no, you don’t have to do that,” you protest—guilt lingering in your gut and causing you to second guess your decision to call. he’s been so sluggish as of late—sleeping in past his alarms, napping more often. it’s obvious that life has been doing a number on him recently. the last thing he needs is to be dragged out.

“no? why else would you call?” he hums, shuffling over to the pitch black void where his kitchen is. he feels around a bit until the familiar jingle of his car keys fills his ears. “text me the address, i’ll be there soon.”

he hangs up without warning, leaving you with no choice but to sit and wait.

rintarou grimaces as he nears the door, feeling a gust of wind as it sneaks in through his window and engulfs the entire living room in a frigid hell. he’s tired, exhausted even—and he doesn’t feel like driving right now.

but, he’s glad you’re dragging him out.

⋆

“don’t even say it,” is the first warning you give rintarou when you slide into the passenger seat of his car. he’s sitting, slouched forward a little as he rubs his hands together for warmth. you know the words are right there on the tip of his tongue, but you don’t want to hear them.

“oh come on,” he groans, visibly annoyed by your sudden demand.

“i’ve been embarrassed enough tonight, thanks,” you give him a faux smile—the passive aggressive kind you’d give to an irate customer.

“so, shouldn’t you like be used to it by now?” he mimics your tone, slightly raising the pitch of his voice.

“tch, you’d think so,” you mutter, noting the stray flakes, fluffy and white, that begin to encase his vehicle. huh, first of the season.

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you—nothing but the sounds of wet tires on pavement and an overly enthusiastic radio host.

rintarou’s never been one to offer verbal support to his friends, or anyone for that matter—it makes him feel awkward, vulnerable. he’s more or less always let his actions portray his feelings, so—him taking twenty minutes out of his evening to come get you means something, you’re sure of it.

still, you like seeing him squirm a little.

“why do you think he didn’t come?” your voice is like a dagger, cutting through the silence before settling at the base of his throat.

“dunno, maybe he has trouble getting it up,” he responds, dulling the blade completely.

“rintarou,” you sigh, blunt and a little defeated—but he swears he can feel you breaking skin with the second syllable of his name. eyes on the road rintarou.

“i don’t know, does it matter?” he tries, sweeping your attempt to kill him right under the rug. however, the wound is already there—open and weakening his resolve by the second. “it’s not you.”

“and if it is?”

“it’s not,” he’s firm, hoping that his words drill into that pretty little head of yours. “he’s missing out, would’ve been one hell of a wedding.”

“yeah,” you agree, “i was looking forward to that speech of yours. highlight of the night.”

“what about when i start drunk dancing with this guy’s mom?” he says, glancing over to catch the smile blooming on your lips—and it’s as if that dagger never existed at all.

“you? dancing?” you scoff, watching as rintarou’s skin glows a momentary orange with each passing streetlight.

“just because you’ve never seen it, doesn’t mean it can’t exist,” he’s quick to defend himself—clearly taking your disbelief to heart.

you turn, holding back laughter as a very specific mental image pops into your brain. rintarou—drunk off his ass in a suit and tie, holding the hands of your groom’s mother as he awkwardly tries to dance with her—simultaneously pissing off half the guests in attendance.

you wonder how many drinks it would take for him to get to that point, or if it’d even take any at all—you’re almost certain that a pep talk and a measly twenty from atsumu would suffice.

either way, the thought alone almost has you wishing this date would’ve gone a little better.

⋆

now, the route back to your place is quick—but it’s not the one rintarou took. instead, you’re coming up on the small 24 hour convenience store, which is about a two minute walk from his place.

“rin,” you start, “i thought you were taking me home?”

“huh?” he glances over at you, putting on a faux look of innocence. “all i said was that i’d pick you up.”

“asshole,” you mumble, noting the increase in wind—which is giving the illusion of a horizontal snowfall.

“relax,” he snorts, pulling the car up in front of his apartment. “i’ll drive you home later, now get out.”

you watch as he shoves a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, lifting his hips ever so slightly to fish a pair of keys out—one large and one small.

“head up, i’ll park.”

he waits for a moment, watching as you scurry up the stairs and into the warmth of the lobby before he drives off into the parking lot.

in a matter of twenty minutes, the weather has taken a turn for the worse—and rintarou braces himself for the short walk to the side door. he’s going against the wind, hands shoved into his pockets, hood blown off his head. he can feel the wind creeping beneath his sweater, penetrating his skin. it’s horrible.

then, it’s not. he’s inside, safe from the storm threatening to tear the building from it’s soil. he opts to take the stairs—remembering what his father once said about taking an elevator during a storm.

his nose and ears are pink, bordering red as he swiftly makes his way down the hall. as he nears his suite—a warm amber glow greets him from beneath the door, and his chest tightens. those damn stairs, maybe he should take them more often.

he swings the door open, and there you are—sitting on his couch, drowning in his blanket, table side lamps on, window shut.

“what the fuck, rin!” you gawk, pulling your knees to your chest and shivering. “close your goddamn windows before you leave.

he can feel it too, this numbing temperature—it’s much worse than it was before his nap.

“also, i cannot believe you were watching this without me,” you cut him off before he has the chance to respond—and he’d expect to be embarrassed having been caught, but he’s not.

he’s happy, because you’re patting the spot next to you while wearing what he thinks has to be the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. maybe he should start practicing his i do.

because even with the season’s most polar air standing between the two of you,

rintarou’s apartment is warm.

[robertdowneyjjr]

HAPPY BDAYYYY !!! coincidentally it is also my mom's bday today lol, here's a lil buckytony for u !!!

which connects to my prompt: tony is used to feeling cold, he had to be (the cave was so cold in the death of the night) and he knows that bucky is, too, even if the man always seem to run hot due to the serum. well, it's the winter season, what better excuse does he have except that he needs a human blanket? basically tony holding hands, hugging, or cuddling bucky to fend off the cold !!

happy birthday again !!!

hello!!! i’m SO sorry this took practically half a year but i just want you to know that your art makes me so happy and seeing this in my inbox was one of the best gifts i could have asked for. bucky and tony are so fucking cute and i’m obsessed with bucky’s blush and tony’s eyelashes 🥰 i hope your mom also had a lovely time celebrating her birthday!!

anyway, without delaying this any further than i already have—

———

Bucky had never been able to feel anything with the heavy silver arm that was forced onto him, which made it useful as a shield as well as a blunt force weapon. It was perfect for the Winter Soldier, the unfeeling assassin whose sole existence was to comply orders and complete missions. Having it blown off may have been a shock at first, but it had quickly morphed into relief when Bucky had realized that losing the arm was the first real step towards finally, truly breaking free from the shackles of Hydra.

Since having his triggers removed and embarking on his slow journey towards recovery, Bucky has decided that he has no interest in fighting anymore, keen to stay home and monitor the feeds while the rest of the team is out being heroes. He’s happy to be retired, happy to uncover new things about himself as he learns how to bake croissants and build terrariums. It’s a kind of peace he never thought he’d be able to have when he was trapped for seventy years as a prisoner of war, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

So when he had been asked what he would like in a new prosthetic, Bucky had said, just a regular arm; no super strength, no nifty weapons hidden in the plates. Just a functional part of his body for him to get through his daily life.

Tony had gone above and beyond, presenting Bucky with a prosthetic that had far exceeded his expectations. Not only is the arm intuitive, with nanobots that shift like real muscle and fat as Bucky moves, but it is also regulated to match the rest of Bucky’s body in strength and temperature. If it had been painted a color to match Bucky’s skin, it would almost be indiscernible to a real arm.

Despite the prosthetic being made with the most advanced technology the world has to offer—despite all the cyborg jokes his friends like to tease him with—Bucky has never felt more human.

With the new arm, Tony hadn’t just given Bucky back a sense of normalcy. He’d also given Bucky a brighter future than he had ever dared to imagine.

He still remembers the day in the lab after they had run through their last series of tests with the new arm.

He had just put down the stress ball they used for the pressure test, still marveling at how he could feel the texture of the rubber, when Tony had spoken up.

“Okay. One last thing I’d like us to try. Hold your hand out?”

Bucky had done as he was asked, not quite sure what to expect, when Tony had reached out with his right hand and wound their fingers together. He hadn’t been able to hold back a gasp, staring at their joined hands as he felt the cold of Tony’s hand seeping through the warmth that he hadn’t realized was coming from his own arm. Then Tony had squeezed once, affectionately, stepping closer until they were only inches apart, and Bucky’s heart had stuttered in his chest as he glanced up and saw the way Tony had been smiling at him.

“How does this feel?” Tony had asked, red faintly dusting his cheeks in a way Bucky had been sure no one else had ever seen before.

Feeling whole and brave, and like the ice in his veins is finally starting to melt for the first time in decades, Bucky had gently squeezed back.

“Good. It feels nice. You feel nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“Well, good. You’re warm, so I think I’ll be holding on to you for a while. You know, just to stave off the cold,” Tony had declared.

“Sure thing, doll.”

Tony is tactile. That had been the first thing that Bucky learned about Tony when the team had been pardoned, made their amends with each other, and gone back to New York.

His touches are gentle and reassuring, drawing smiles from whoever he has focused his attention on at the moment. Rhodes leans into the hand that Tony brushes against his back as he walks by, for a moment relying on his friend’s strength instead of his leg braces. Natalia is a constant presence by Tony’s side during movie nights, bumping her head against his hand like a cat just so he would play with her hair. Peter beams like he’s aced a test every time Tony squeezes his shoulder affectionately after helping with his physics homework. Steve rolls his eyes fondly whenever Tony pokes his abs teasingly after a workout, but always teases right back by lifting his shirt up to goad Tony into doing it again.

Being touched by Tony is like a drug, and Bucky has been addicted since the first time Tony held his hand. Which is just as well, because when Tony said he would be holding on for a while, he wasn’t kidding.

After that first time in the lab, Tony always, always holds Bucky close when they’re together.

He takes Bucky by the hand and drags him to dinner with the team, never loosening his grip even when Sam raises a pointed eyebrow at their joined hands. “For warmth,” Tony says, and when he takes his place at the table, he promptly kicks Steve out of his usual spot because he refuses to release their entwined fingers. Bucky just watches amusedly as Steve takes his old seat next to Rhodes and sits down next to Tony, only letting go so he can scoot closer and swing his arm across the back of Tony’s chair as they eat.

He drapes Bucky’s left arm over his shoulder when they’re out, snuggling close to his side as they take the long way walking home after dinner. “For warmth,” Tony says, even though he’s wrapped up in several layers of expensive wool and cashmere. Bucky just pulls him in tighter and steers him towards their favorite gelato bar for dessert, because even though Tony runs cold and always claims he doesn’t like sweets, Bucky knows he’d never say no to ice cream.

He sleeps on the right side of the bed so he can use Bucky’s arm as another pillow, despite knowing the hard planes of metal can’t possibly be comfortable for him. “For warmth,” Tony says as he presses a kiss to Bucky’s reconstructed shoulder and dozes off under their weighted blanket made of the fluffiest down feathers. Bucky just smiles indulgently and curls in closer, perfectly happy to tolerate overheating in his sleep if it means going to bed every night with his favorite person in the world.

Having Tony in his arms warms him from the inside out, like an endless summer after a lifetime spent lost in the cold.

[frozenlight-gvf]

Strawberry Wine: Part Two

pairing: barn au: danny × fem!reader (enemies to lovers)

summary: after your first rendezvous with Daniel, tensions are high. he still gets under your skin like no one else can, but there’s something else there now— something that you refuse to let yourself feel.

(here's part one if you haven't read it already!)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: (for this part): language, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, angst (18+ MINORS DNI) [i chose not to include all the warnings to avoid spoilers, reader discretion is advised!]

a/n: new moodboard new moodboard! anyway this part was super fun to write hope u enjoy <3

***

The wind whipped through your hair as you urged Guinevere to a breakneck gallop across the field. You thought maybe the speed and the endless green vastness would wipe Daniel from your mind for at least a moment or two, but a voice like alarm bells blared relentlessly in your head: What the hell happened last night?

As the sun broke the line of the horizon, beginning its journey across the sky, you breathed in the crisp misty air of the dawn. The heat hadn’t yet gotten a chance to burn, so you savored the slight chill. You let Guinevere slow, as she had begun to pant and snort, and unwelcome thoughts seeped back into your mind. You thought of how willingly you fell under Daniel’s control, responding to his every whim. You thought of his warm breath against your ear. You thought of his hands, how they petted you… how his fingers curled and caressed…

You shook your head, the images dissolving. Guinevere was still plodding along under you. You leaned forward to pat her neck, trying to bring yourself back to the moment. Now, the only thing in your head was your mother, as you heard her voice ringing out across the field, calling you back to her.

You reentered your house – which you had so suddenly departed from just an hour ago with your riding helmet in hand and racing heart in your chest, still warm from just having thrown off your sheets in restless frustration – and you wiped your boots on the doormat under the scrutinizing eye of Susannah, who was making sure you didn’t track mud in her house.

“What’s up with you?” she asked in her accent stronger than your own. “You’re shaking like a leaf, honey.”

You hadn’t even realized it. “Adrenaline, I guess,” you mumbled.

She shrugged as she fussed around in the kitchen, making breakfast. You sat down obediently at the table, knowing after many years of trying that she would never accept your help when she was cooking.

“How’s things with Danny?” she asked, cutting strawberries into an old ceramic bowl painted with watercolors; a product of a childhood craft gone slightly awry, but too sentimental for your mother not to keep.

You scoffed, a bit put-off that she sounded like she was inquiring after a relationship. “Same as always.” You hoped the slight tremor in your voice didn’t give away the fact that things had, in fact, changed. Dramatically.

“You’re so mean to that poor boy,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Would it kill you to be nice to him?”

“He’s not nice to me, mama. And you know how I am with boys.”

“I know, I know. My little dragon,” she said affectionately. She cupped your cheek for a moment as she placed a plate of bacon on the table. “But I want you to at least try.”

You banished your mother’s old-fashioned ways; she thought the princess was always supposed to be saved by someone else, namely a man. She’d nicknamed you her “dragon” when you were little; you always pointed and squealed at the pictures of the dragons in the storybooks she read to you– the ones that destroyed kingdoms on fiery rampages, the ones that threatened the lives of well-meaning princes. You were always more the type to curl up in a cave somewhere rather than drape yourself out the window of a tall tower, calling for someone to rescue you.

But, you couldn’t fight that little voice inside you, the one that was begging for someone to take care of you, to hold you and kiss your lonely tears away. You rested your chin in your hand as you pushed your eggs around on your plate, your mother sitting across from you. 

“I’m not gonna force you into anything, hun,” Susannah said, taking a sip of her sweet-smelling coffee. “But, darlin’, it would settle my heart to know that there’s someone else in your life who would make you breakfast in the morning.”

Susannah meant well, and you knew it. Like all mothers with lonely daughters, she wanted to see you cared for and cherished. She’d tried to hire barn hands you might get along with, and a part of you felt bad for how poorly you always treated them. But it was your way. Isolation is an art, and you had practically perfected it.

After breakfast, you milled about the barn, so far its only human inhabitant. The sun was now steadily rising, no longer shy about its light and broiling heat. You were anxious for Daniel to arrive so you could assess what happened between you. If he didn’t look in your direction, it was safe to assume he was feeling the way you were, which was conflicted. If he flashed you his usual teasing grin and tipped his hat, it would mean that, to him, nothing had changed. And you weren’t sure which option you preferred.

As you surveyed the tack room, making sure every saddle and every bridle was in its assigned space, you heard familiar footsteps from behind you.

“Do you really not trust me to put everything back where it belongs?”

You whirled around to see Daniel leaning against the doorframe a couple yards in front of you. For a moment, there were no words exchanged between you two. In his eyes, you could see flashes of last night’s passion. You tensed up every muscle in your body, bracing for whatever impact that was about to come. 

You pointed over to the wall covered in tangled leather straps. “Ziggy’s bridle is where Tim’s should be.”

Daniel’s eyes widened imperceptibly as he noticed his mistake, and you felt a small swell of pride within you for having shaken him. But his signature roguish smirk soon spread across his face as he pushed off from the doorframe with his shoulder, uncrossing his ankles.

“My bad, heiress.”

He sauntered past you to switch the bridles, brushing close to your side. It almost felt like a static spark passed between the two of you, and you sucked in a breath. He turned back to you, his body now closer to yours than what would be considered “friendly.”

“However may I earn your forgiveness?”

You looked up at him, your breath catching. His curls were slightly damp, and he smelled of crisp pine and lemon. It was so rare for you to see him like this; usually when he was in your line of sight, he was flushed and sweating from heat and hard labor. But right now, he was almost glowing, fresh from a morning shower. Your mind wandered to imagine how he might look with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist with his chest damp and glistening, his wet curls draped over his broad shoulders–

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head sharply and swallowing hard. Daniel’s smile only grew. 

“Oh, no? Because you seem a little… bothered.” He leaned in to whisper the last word, and his closeness and his clean scent made you want to fall into him. But you stood your ground.

You tilted your head towards the rack of bridles. “I’m only bothered because you can’t do your job right.”

He chuckled. “Is that so? Well…. I seemed to do my job pretty well last night, didn’t I?”

You bristled slightly at such a direct mention of your rendezvous. You figured you two would beat around the bush for a little while longer, but it seemed like he couldn’t wait to make you squirm again.

“That’s what you were thinking about, wasn’t it?” he said, leaning over you slightly.

Eager to prove him wrong, you straightened your spine and stared at him. “No. It was something else.”

“Alright. Whatever you say, heiress.”

You thought that with that, Daniel would leave and start on his morning chores, but he remained exactly where he was– too close for comfort.

“You have chores to do, Wagner.”

He tilted his head with a crooked smile.

“That I do, ma’am.”

Still, he made no move to leave the tackroom. You were starting to feel that anger he so loved to stir up in you.

“Then go do them!”

He flashed his eyebrows.

“I’m about to.”

And still– he stayed. You raised your voice to shout at him, but he reached one of his hands out and pulled you into him by your waist, planting a kiss on your lips. 

You wrestled away from him, the blush on your face betraying how much you enjoyed that.

“What are you doing?” you spat.

He smiled and crossed his arms. You had to tear your eyes away from the defined curves and edges of his muscles. “Do you not remember what I said last night?”

“You said a lot of things last night, Wagner,” you mumbled, straightening your shirt and turning away.

He leaned in once more to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning against your hair. You could feel your blush spreading, making your ears burn pink.

“I said, I was gonna put taking care of that needy little cunt of yours on my list of chores.”

Your lips parted slightly as a breath escaped them. He noticed. He pressed up behind you and started rubbing both of your arms up and down slowly. 

He hummed a contented noise. “You like that? Does that sound like a good way to start our morning?”

Our morning. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your ear, his lips then sensually traveling down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses.

“Want me to take care of you, sweetheart?”

He was tearing down your walls brick by brick, stone by stone, but you didn’t want to let him make ruins out of you.

Your voice was breathy as you protested, not having much power behind your insistence. “Daniel, my students are gonna be here soon…”

“Darlin’,” he said, interrupting you, still kissing down your neck, “it’s barely nine in the morning. Your first class won’t be here until ten.” He switched to the other side of your neck and paused for a moment before speaking again. “It’s just you and me.”

“My mom–”

“--isn’t here right now.”

“But she might come here later…”

You felt his lips curl into a smile against your neck. He gave you a little nip right under your ear. “Then, I guess you better be quiet, then, huh? Think you can be quiet for me, sweetheart?”

His hands moved from your arms to your hips, caressing up and down your curves. 

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes.”

His touch started to get bolder as his hands traveled inward, running up over your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as he squeezed gently, massaging the tender flesh in his palms. His hands then slipped under the fabric of your shirt to feel you closer. His fingers teased along the top edge of your bra.

“I wanna see you in something prettier than this,” he mumbled in your ear, referring to the sturdy sports bra you were wearing. 

“I will never spend money on lace, Wagner.”

“Then I will,” he said with casual certainty as he tugged on the hem of your shirt, bringing it up over your head. He then turned you around to face him, his eyes staring disapprovingly at your choice of undergarment. He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Pretty thing like you shouldn’t wear shit like this. Wanna see you in lace or nothing at all,” he mumbled again.

“Guess nothing at all will have to do for now,” you said, trying to keep the hopeful edge out of your voice.

He grinned as he reached forward to relieve you of your bra. His lips parted in an awestruck smile as soon as he saw you bare, his eyes sparkling.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he rasped, skating his hands over your breasts, feeling your sensitive nipples hardening under his touch. Your hands started moving on their own as your fingers met with the metal of Daniel’s ornate silver belt buckle. You traced your fingertips over the minimal design at the center before you suddenly felt him take your hands and place them on his chest.

“Don’t touch the buckle, sweetheart,” he said quietly in your ear as he guided your fingers to the bottom of his tshirt, encouraging you to lift it off of him. 

You’d seen his bare chest many times; he rarely ever wore a shirt while working outside. But you’d never seen him like this. You noticed details you’d previously glossed over– the freckles that dotted his perfectly tanned skin, the sensual curve of his waist, and the trail of coarse hair that stretched up from beneath his jeans. You were practically dumbstruck. 

You weren’t exactly sure how or why you found yourself with your jeans undone infront of Daniel Wagner a second time, but there wasn’t much time to think about it before your pants were on the floor of the tackroom, and Daniel had your legs wrapped around his waist, pressing you into the wood-paneled wall. 

He took your mouth again in a fiery kiss, but this time, you didn’t stop him. You let him consume you, his tongue exploring your mouth feverishly.

“Seems I’m getting pretty good at getting you to shut up,” Daniel said, speaking breathlessly between punishing kisses. You could feel how riled up he was, like a bronco about to break loose.

Not once breaking the kiss, he reached down with one hand to remove his belt, the dexterity with which he did so making you melt even more. The leather snapped against the denim as the accessory fell to the ground, including his apparently precious buckle. 

“Not so worried about that thing now, are you?” You glanced at the piece of metal strewn on the floor.

Daniel growled into your mouth, pushing you harder into the wall, bringing your attention right back to him.

“The only part of you that’s allowed to touch my buckle is your pussy when you’re sitting on my lap. Are we clear on that?” He paused, taking your nod as an answer and continuing to kiss you passionately. 

His hardness began teasing at your center, rubbing back and forth and collecting the arousal that was dripping from you. You shivered with desperation in his arms, his hands gripping and squeezing your ass. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he crooned, “you’re wetter than you were last night. Have you been thinking about me all morning? Is that why?”

You shook your head, but both of you knew you were lying.

“I bet you thought about me last night, too. Did you think about me in bed? Did you think about how good my fingers felt inside you and how badly you wanted to feel my cock?”

You couldn’t reply, as the tip of his cock had just barely nudged against you, and you already knew you were in for it. He felt big.

“I really hope you didn’t get your hands dirty in your bed last night,” he said, clucking his tongue patronizingly. “You know I’m the only one who can touch this pussy, right? It’s all mine, isn’t it, darlin’?”

You waited in heated anticipation to feel him buried inside you, but he didn’t move. His eyes burned into yours. He was waiting for an answer. And he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted until you gave him one. Until you submitted to him.

“It’s all yours, Danny.”

A voice.

“Danny?”

Both of you froze. Daniel’s fingers dug deeper into your ass, as if holding you tighter would make you somehow disappear.

“Where are you, hun? I need you to do something for me.”

You and Daniel looked at each other, eyes wide with terror. Susannah.

Her light footsteps were almost imperceptible, but you could tell you only had seconds to get out of the compromising position you were in. Daniel all but dropped you, rushing to get his shirt and belt back on, hissing urgent curses under his breath. You plucked your discarded clothes from the floor, racing to pull your bra and shirt back on and to tug your jeans over your hips and button them with shaking fingers.

When Susannah’s willowy silhouette appeared in the doorway, Daniel was reorganizing the saddle pads, and you were aimlessly fidgeting with the leather straps of the bridles lining the walls, silently kicking yourself for not having come up with something more convincing to be doing. 

“There you are, darlin’. Can you take a look at Rebel’s stall door? It was creaking somethin’ terrible yesterday.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Daniel gave a polite bow of his head to Susannah as he sauntered past her, hands in his back pockets and whistling a little tune— like he wasn’t just mere moments from being caught thrusting deep inside you. You were left trembling; partly with fear, but mostly from the visceral anticlimax of having to stop right before what might have been the greatest moment of your life. 

Your mother turned to you, a hand on her hip. Her gentle, smile-lined face shifted to show a mild concern.

“You alright, sweetheart? You look awfully warm.”

Your blush only grew hotter. Your fingers let the reins you were inspecting too closely drop and gently swing against the wall.

“I’m fine, mama,” you said, grabbing a bucket full of grooming tools from the ground.

Susannah shrugged and turned to leave, ducking into the little room next door which classified as the barn’s office: a little area with an old hutch desk and an older computer. 

Exhaling deeply, you shook your head, unable to believe you didn’t get busted. And you were also unable to believe how nonchalant Daniel was afterwards. His inhuman speed at getting dressed and his lightning-quick ability to become otherwise occupied so he didn’t come off as suspicious— like he had a habit of fucking girls where people might intrude. Like he had a habit of fucking girls, period. It made you realize that whatever you had going on with Daniel had lower stakes for him than it did for you. And it was maddening.

You stared off into space during the morning lessons you were teaching. Luckily, the riders were slightly older than your afternoon students and didn’t need eagle-eyed supervision. You stood in the center of the ring, occasionally calling out for your riders to change their horse’s gait. The warm-up probably lasted a bit too long, but there was hardly any room left in your mind for anything else when Daniel was occupying it— especially not teaching. The horses cantering in a circle around you almost made you dizzy. 

”Miss Y/L/N?” a voice piped up. “Can we stop now?”

You turned to where the voice was coming from: a younger girl whose helmet almost seemed to swallow her whole head. You nodded, rubbing your temple.

“Walk,” you declared in a voice not as commanding as you would have liked, and the horses slowed around the ring. Originally, you were going to give the riders their first lesson in jumping, but you were in absolutely no state something as involved as that.

“How about a trail ride?”

The girls cheered, and you led the five-horse parade down from the ring to the barn so you could hop on a horse to guide the procession on the trail. You instructed your riders to wait as you headed into the stables and towards Guinevere’s stall. But it was empty. You huffed in frustration and marched into the office.

“Where’s Gwen?”

Susannah looked up at you from the boxy computer.“Danny took her out back to the pasture for a bath. Isn’t that sweet of him? Making sure your horse is all nice and clean for you,” your mother said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes. You knew Daniel wasn’t bathing Guinevere out of kindness. He would never do anything for you out of kindness. “I need her for a trail ride.“

“Trail ride? I thought y’all were jumping today. Do you need help getting the poles set up? I’ll go get Danny—“

“I don’t need him, mama!” you shouted suddenly, whirling around to face her. She startled a bit, her eyes fully focusing on you. 

“Y/N—“ she scolded, her surprise hardening into consternation.

“I don’t need him.” Your voice softer as you repeated. You knew your mother heard you the first time, so the second time you made the declaration was mostly as a reminder for yourself. You took a breath, calming yourself. “It’s hot today. The horses are feeling lazy, and they won’t want to jump.”

Susannah shrugged, her shoulders now cold. Her gaze turned back to her computer, wordlessly dismissing you. Her silence tugged at your heart, but you couldn’t let it affect you. 

With Guinevere preoccupied, Ares was the only horse left in the stable. He was off-limits for students. After bucking a rider off of his back and into a fence last spring, Susannah declared that Ares would never be used as a lesson horse again, only remaining in the barn for extremely advanced riders who refused any of the “easy” horses. And for Daniel, who somehow got the demon to bend to his will.

Although you’ve been riding your whole life, even you avoided Ares. He was sturdy and powerful, yet wildly skittish. Any sort of loud noise or quick movement would have him rearing and taking off running, endangering everyone on or around him. You stood there outside the horse’s stall, studying him for a moment. You wouldn’t have time to tack him up; the riders were waiting on you outside. The idea of having to ride him bareback on the trail— the place with the greatest potential for an unexpected spook— made your blood turn cold. As you opened Ares’ stall, you had the slight inclination to just forget the trail ride and get Daniel to help you set up the jumping poles in the lesson ring. But the more you considered it, the more vivid the image of his face in your mind became. You pictured the way he’d look down at you and smirk, teasing you for not being able to do anything by yourself, not being able to do anything without his help. Without him. He’d poke you and prod you, goading you for needing his assistance, for needing him. Needing him.

You met your riders in front of the barn atop the black horse with a less-than-confident smirk on your face. With no reins, saddle, or stirrups to hold onto, you felt truly vulnerable on Ares’ back. Ares’s energy felt potent and volatile as he shifted under you; it almost felt like he was just waiting to catch you with your guard down and buck you off into the dirt. You just hoped that Daniel couldn’t see your bubbling fear as you rode past the pasture towards the trailhead. 

Despite your immense anxiety, the notion of him seeing you riding his favorite horse was attractive, but all you could focus on right now was keeping Ares under your control. 

“Lookin’ good down there, ladies!”

Daniel waved from where he stood in the pasture, smiling charmingly. The young girls behind you giggled, enamored with the roguish barn boy who was currently shirtless as he bathed Guinevere, glistening with sweat and water. You shook your head. His flirtation meant nothing. He just wanted attention. Your riders waved back at him, and he tipped his hat gallantly. They crushed on him the same way one might crush on the older pool lifeguard in one’s youth, all blushing cheeks and smitten, innocent glances. And Daniel always responded in the way that lifeguard might: crooked smirks and harmless, playful quips.

You chose not to respond to Daniel, knowing it would only egg him on. Instead, you urged Ares forward. A few more yards and you’d disappear into the trees, shielded from Daniel’s piercing gaze and baiting words. But Ares stalled beneath you. Daniel noticed the way you clucked and kicked at the horse’s sides, trying to get Ares to budge.

“Is Ares too difficult for you, heiress?” 

Your students chucked a bit, and your face began to burn. You kicked at Ares harder now, but he only stamped his hoof into the gravel at the trailhead and huffed.

“Just switch with her!“ Daniel said, pointing at the girl riding Ziggy— the easiest horse in the barn. “I bet that little lady can handle Ares better than you.”

More giggles from behind you. The fury within you was reaching a peak, and it started to mix with your nervousness, creating a boiling concoction of intense emotions that left your fingers shaking. Ares could feel this as he pawed at the ground, flicking his head up and down. 

“Maybe I should just show you how it’s done, huh?”

“Show me how what’s done, Wagner?” you shot back. Your voice broke slightly, and you hoped Daniel would interpret it as anger rather than fear. Ares was getting antsy, and you didn’t like it at all.

“Riding,” he said with a chuckle. “You sure you’re the best person here to teach these young ladies?”

Before you could give Ares one more swift kick, the horse’s ears pinned back against his head.

A loud rustle came from the woods to your left. You saw flashes of spindly legs and streaks of white as a family of deer ran through the underbrush.

Ares startled, his hooves skittering on the gravel, the movement abruptly sending you forward as you clung to the horse’s neck. A loud whinny shocked your ears as wind started whipping against your face, the trees flying past your eyes.

 Ares was bounding down the trail, sprinting through the woods. Your heart was pounding harder than his hooves against the dirt. You gripped the coarse hair of his mane as tight as you could with trembling fingers. Your legs flailed with every one of Ares’ panicked strides. Your thighs and feet struggled to find purchase against his sleek body, clambering frantically. But you couldn’t stabilize yourself, and Ares was running wild.

You felt your hips slide as Ares rounded a sharp bend. The air was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground, your vision going dark. 

~~~

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the noise. 

“Shit, Y/N.”

Daniel swung off of Guinevere before she had even come to a stop. 

His face was blurry above yours. His urgent hands quickly inspected your arms, your legs, your torso. One of his hands came up to cup the back of your head.

“Fuck.”

Strong arms slid under your knees and your back as he lifted you up.

The next thing you knew, you were flying again. Sat sideways in front of him, your head jostled against his shoulder. One of Daniel’s hands was held tight to the reins, the other wrapped around your waist, keeping you right up against him. 

“Hold on, sweetheart. You’re ok.”

His voice was warm in your hair. 

You then winced as his voice rang out, calling your mother‘s name. The sound stabbed at your ears, sending tendrils of pain through your head.

Daniel slid off the horse with you in his arms. 

The worried voice of your mother drifted into your mind, her cold fingers shaking while pushing the hair out of your face.

You then found yourself tucked in the passenger seat of Daniel’s truck, The landscape was racing by outside the windows. You felt Daniel holding one of your hands tight. He gave it a squeeze.

“Stay awake for me, honey, ok? You can’t go to sleep.”

You squeezed his hand back.

The rest of the drive went by in a blur, as did the visit to the emergency room. Unfamiliar instruments were held up in front of you in dark rooms, and you answered as many questions as you could. As soon as a voice told you that you were allowed to rest, you closed your eyes and sank into sleep.

“Hi.”

You blinked awake to see Daniel right beside you, holding your hand. He was smiling sweetly, his face laced with concern. The fluorescent lights of the sterile room around you had been dimmed, but they still stung your eyes.

“You’ve only been out for an hour. The doctors said to ask you questions when you woke up. Can you tell me your name?”

You answered, hating how quiet and weak your voice sounded.

“Can you tell me my name?”

“Danny.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Good job, sweetheart.”

He paused for a moment, seemingly taking in the sight of your dazed eyes. He leaned in closer in his seat beside the cot, his elbows propped on his knees.

“You’ve got a pretty nasty concussion, but you’re ok. No broken bones or anything like that. They gave you some stitches for the cut on the back of your head.”

Your voice was croaky and hoarse. “Where’s my mom?”

He was quick to ease your stress. “She’s at the barn. She’s taking care of your students. She’ll be here as soon as she gets all the horses put away. I had to drive you so I could explain to the doctors what happened to you since Susannah didn’t see any of it.”

“You drove me?”

“You don’t remember?” He sighed a bit, shifting in his seat. “No ambulance would have gotten all the way out there quick enough,” he said quietly. “I had to make sure you were ok.”

You felt his fingers against your cheek. Bits and pieces of the car ride started coming back to you. The empty roads, the speed, Daniel’s worried face. But mostly, you remembered the way that he held your hand.

The way he was still holding it. 

***

Part Three

Taglist:

@sunandthemoontwinflames @brujamagick @lightsofthe-living-gvf @hellowgoodbye @thedaddydirection

DM me to be added to the taglist! I don't currently have a post schedule for this series, so the taglist is the best way to be notified of new parts!

[geeks-universe]

Here’s a little sneak peak of 2 chapters from now of ‘The Fallen’. I’m actually super excited for this chapter.

*please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with smut*

“Fuck you.”

It was the most vulgar he’d ever heard you, his wrath mixing with desire. Warmth seeped into his cheek where your spit had landed, and in a quick kick of his legs, he dropped you to your knees hard.

And wasn’t that a damn sight.

“If that sweet mouth wants to be filthy so bad, why don’t we put it to good use.”

He talked slow, controlled, as he grabbed your hair, pulling your head back. Wild eyes traced the arch of your back, the smooth column of your exposed neck.

He wanted to take a bite.

Your eyes were burning into his, an anger he’d never seen before from you shining through. You looked like you hated him, like you’d burn him on the spot.

“Now, sweetheart, try not to use your teeth.”

He clicked open his belt buckle, positioning himself just enough to free his hardened length. He’d dreamt of this moment, had pleasured himself to the thought of you more than he could count. The realization that it was coming to fruition had him so hard it fucking hurt. He took pride at the hunger in your gaze, your mouth still twisted in a scowl.

“Don’t act all innocent now.”

[ten-shi-fandoms]

The way they kiss/favorite areas to kiss: Blue Lock Addition pt 1:

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Cw: Characters x Reader, Gender netural reader, kissing (obviously-), mentions of biting (Bachira), mentions of thigh kissing (Rin), hand kissing (Isagi), neck kissing (Rin), slightly suggestive (not really), fluff headcanons

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Isagi Yoichi, Rin Itoshi

Author's note: Okay listen, just know some of my post will not be getting they're parts yet- it's mainly because I have so many ideas and want to get them all out before I forget so it may take a while for some of my different headcanon post so bare with me. Also sorry these are short.

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Bachira Meguru 👾⚽:

The way they kiss:

Pesonally I think Bachira's kisses are usually quick and sweet.

He's someone who lives for excitement, and his brain sometimes runs a thousands miles per hour so he likes quick kisses.

He loves the quick kisses because it allows him to kiss you multiple times and you still enjoy them.

Sure there are times he kisses you softer and slower but he prefers super quick kisses that are just long enough to make your lips tingle.

When he does kiss you slower, and alot gentler be warned it will taste like something usually sweet.

He will usually eat your favorite fruit or sweet treat then kiss you, the sweet taste will linger on your tastebuds for a while after the kiss too so he's happy.

Bachira also likes biting when he kisses you.

Everytime you kiss in a slower way he will nip at your lip.

He also smiles against your lips whenever you two kiss.

He doesn't mean to but he can't help it.

He loves you so much and getting to kiss you is more than he could ever ask so he smiles to show that.

Its not even about getting you to open your mouth in anyway he just likes seeing your lips red, bitten raw and puffy from his kisses makes him have a sense of accomplishment.

He gets so happy when he kisses you and sometimes the kisses last longer than intended but neither of you mind ^^

The sweet taste, the quick and sweet or slow and gentle pace, the smile as his lips move against yours.

Aw yes this is how Bachira Meguru kisses.

Favorite area to kiss

Bachira's favorite area to kiss is your lips.

Its simple.

It's normal.

And it's his favorite.

He just loves cupping your face in his hands as he smothers you in kisses.

You can't get away this way, your stuck with his hands on your face being kissed breathless by how many kisses he's giving you.

By the time he leans back to admire his work, your face is red, your lips puffy and red, your eyes half lidded as you catch your breath having not being able to breathe with how much he was kissing you.

Yep thats the stuff ^^

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Isagi Yoichi 🥇⚽:

The way they kiss

Isagi's kisses actually depend on whats going on and his emotions.

If he's excited or happy his kisses are bold, enough to the point your breathless off the first kiss.

If he's stressed or in a bad mood his kisses are hesitant as if he's kissing a delicate flower.

He kisses you with such passion that you can feel his love seeping into you with each kiss no matter his mood.

Sure his kisses are bold, almost fiery when he's happy but his hesitant kisses are full of vulnerable and raw emotion it can make you smile.

His lips quiver everytime he kisses you as his hands stay gently on your cheeks, hands or waist.

He needs you to ground himself.

He needs to feel you pull away, tug on his shirt, grip his hand.

He needs to stimulation to make himself stop no matter his mood.

He gets so carried away when he kisses you, you carry away all his worrries and doubt. The way his excited and happiness wells inside you makes him forget you have limits. (like being able to breath-)

He gets super embarrassed when you pull back and he realizes what he's done.

Favorite area to kiss

Isagi's favorite place on you to kiss are your hand.

He just loves how quick and simple it is but it also conveys how much he loves you.

Kissing you on your lips makes him get carried away.

Kissing anywhere else makes him embarrassed so kissing your hands is a good alternative.

The feeling of his warms lips placing gentle almost feathery kisses along your hands and knuckles can and will make you shiver.

He loves feeling your hands against his lips.

He loves seeing you rub the areas he kissed and smile when you think he isn't looking.

And sometimes when he's being playful he'll nip at your fingers sometimes licking along the length of your fingers just to see you squirm.

He can't help it your just too cute ^^

___________________________________________

Rin Itoshi 😑⚽:

The way they kiss

Rin's kisses are bold, long and leave you breathless.

Rin isn't the best with words, nor does he like that much physical affection but his kisses show you everything you need to know.

You can tell how much he loves you just by the sheer force behind each kiss.

You can literally fall back on the bed by how hard Rin kisses you.

Everytime you kiss it doesn't matter how long your lips are puffy, red or bruised if not all three.

Don't get me wrong, he doesn't mean to hurt you it's just how hard his lips move against yours.

His hand will find it's way to the back of your neck usually resting there as the two of you kiss.

Sometimes if he starts losing himself in the kiss he'll gently tighten his grip on your neck.

It doesn't hurt you or anything.

Nothing to hurt you but it helps him ground himself and gives you the hint to make him calm down.

However this is only at home though.

He will never kiss you in public and if he does it's a really quick peck to the lips, forehead or cheek.

Favorite area to kiss

Rin's favorite area to kiss on you are a mix between your thighs and your neck.

He loves kissing your thighs because its a area that's sacred in his eyes and the fact that you even let him kiss there shows how much you love him.

He especially loves it if your in short or where high knee sock because it leaves your thighs exposed.

Perfect to place gentle, feathery kisses along.

They aren't sexual mind you.

They are usually on the top part of your thighs and they only linger a few seconds.

When Rin gets in a bad mood however its your neck.

It can be anger, jealousy, annoyance or he's just being downright possessive he will kiss your neck.

Usually he does it infront of people he doesn't like to show them your taken.

His lips will push gently against the skin as he makes direct eye contact with the person he's making a point to.

Though he also does it when your in a bad mood.

After all can't get mad at a face you can't see -

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(Honmei + Idia) outside, in the igniyde backyard (do they even have one) there is a super massive death robot made entirely out of chocolate. There is a little note at its feet saying ‘For Idia. If you say ‘Death Lazers’ it’ll shoot chocolate death lazers! From me, your secret admirer!’

... I mean, I’m sure the area outside of the Ignihyde dorm building can count, right?

GET IN THE GUNDAM, IDIA

Sweet on You.

Reports of a strange structure appearing in front of Ignihyde had been steadily trickling in since the morning. Eventually, the sightings culminated in mob students crowding at their dorm leader's door and hauling him away from his desktop to deal with the issue. Thrusted into the yard (by those traitors, Idia bitterly thought), he winced into the blinding sun.

Or rather, he would have, were it not for the massive structure blocking out the light.

It was several stories tall, eclipsing even the dorm building with its regal form. Constructed with and plated in tempered panes of chocolate, it took on the shape of a winged equine—a pegasus. Sleep, sharp, and powerful.

Idia recoiled in shock.

Wh-What's with this flashy Trojan Horse of a statue?! Who would even make something like this—and worse yet, then dump it on someone’s front lawn to deal with?!

“Urgh…” He shivered, sinking into the temporary comfort of his jacket. “I-I guess I have no choice in this. I’d better get rid of it before it melts and seeps into all our tech…”

Idia returned to the pegasus, his brain already set to running the rough calculations. Thinking, planning.

Something of this size will be impossible for the regular cleaning robots to clean up. I’ll have to put together something larger, but even if I just take one the basic models to modify and scale up, I’ll need to collect the right parts…

His eyes traced the pegasus, beginning with the tip of its extended wings and ending at the base of its front hooves. Numbers and estimations were still buzzing in his mind when he noticed the piece of paper tucked under one horseshoe. Trash, Idia suspected. Another problem for him.

Groaning, he crouched down to pick it up. There were words scrawled on it, and—Idia squinted hard—it was a message for him?

"... This is a 'super massive death robot'? And it shoots 'chocolate death lasers'?" He scoffed at the idea. As if this gaudy thing's functional. The chocolate would melt from the heat of the circuits and other electrical units powering up.

But perhaps even more ludicrous than the thought of a horse robot meant for combat, more ridiculous than shooting chocolate beams, was the notion that they had come from a secret admirer. Idia's pale complexion heated and colored with embarrassment.

Y-Yeah right... I'll bet this is just someone's idea of a cruel joke. There's no way any of that's true. Haha, guys, real hilarious, making fun of the shut-in otaku on Single Awareness Day.

Crumpling the paper into a ball, Idia casually tossed it back at the ground.

Whrrrrrrr...

"... Huh? What's that... sound..."

Idia looked up and immediately paled.

The eyes of the pegasus had started to glow crimson, and the air around it had grown thick and heavy—crackling with magic. Idia whipped around, scrambling to flee.

But too late.

A bright light erupted from the robot’s mouth, engulfing him in a blazingly hot ray. Weight collected on him, and within seconds Idia was crushed by a resounding force. He fell to the ground in a pathetically shrieking heap, flailing his arms to grasp at an escape.

He found something and held tight to it, only for his fingers to come away sticky and sweet.

“This is…”

… Chocolate?

Idia glanced around him. Chocolate had magically manifested as far as the eye could see, burying him in a pile of sugar, fat, and cacao. It was practically death by chocolate.

“I-Impossible!!” he sputtered, gaping up at the equine monstrosity. "It... It shouldn't be operational! It shouldn't work! It can't work...!!"

Yet it had.

Realization set in, slow and horrifying. A fervent fire had stoked beneath his skin, fanning out across every last inch of him.

In spite of that, an anxious grin started to form on his mouth.

"Hi... hihihihi..."

Idia covered his burning face and let himself melt into the pile of chocolate. His heart felt like it was on overdrive, all of its circuits firing at once and frying his system. He didn't care if he would turn it into a sticky puddle, didn't care if his cackling was overheard.

Because maybe there was hope for him after all. A possibility to be discovered in the mountain of impossibilities, love for someone who was thought to be loveless.

A secret admirer for him.

[stuckonyvalentinecards]

On Valentine's night, creators were revealed for the Stuckony Valentine Cards event!

THANK YOU to everyone who participated!

Click here to go to our collection!

Below the cut, you can find a masterpost of all our Valentines!

Death By Chocolate by KandiSheek

Stucky / Rated T

Bucky is dying on the couch. Steve is surprisingly unsympathetic.

-

"I love you" is on the tip of my tongue by Biased_bisexual

Stuckony / Rated G

-

I'll Take Care of You by KandiSheek

Stuckony / Rated T

Steve has never liked being in heat, but Bucky and Tony make it a lot more bearable.

-

If This Feeling Flows Both Ways by Satirickitty

WinterIron / Rated T

Bucky just wants to say thanks, but you know, without having to actually say words out loud. Notes are a perfect solution, right? Right?

-

Just Like Magic by Naivelittleprincess

WinterIron / Rated G

Tony has a new hobby. Bucky is-maybe-his number one fan.

-

Little Murder Baby by swtalmnd

Stuckony / Rated G

By the time Steve had gotten there, Tony was already in love, and Alpine already had a name.

-

love is a tower where all of us can live by soliloquent

WinterIron / Rated G

“A metal-armed supersoldier materializes before him, intruding into Tony’s line of sight and obstructing his project. The trespasser holds two plates of food and regards Tony with an unreadable, almost disinterested look.

Tony sighs internally. Why did he think adopting all these orphaned Avengers was a good idea?”

—⎊—

or: Five times Bucky takes care of Tony and one time Tony realizes why. ❤️

-

Nom! [ART] by MassiveSpaceWren

Stuckony / Rated G

Super-soldiers have an appetite. Tony did NOT expect this.

-

Plush by fohatic

Stony / Rated E

Tony couldn’t understand the reasoning behind all of it. For Steve to leave one stuffed animal for him was nice enough. A couple more was slight overkill, but still quite sweet. A couple dozen was something else, entirely.

-

The Plushies Thank You Heat by Aquatigermice

Stuckony / Rated E

Bucky and Steve decided to get Tony something he always wanted.

The results of which bring some rather sudden and attention demanding courses of action into play.

This is about the aftermath.

-

Red String [ART] by MassiveSpaceWren

WinterIron / Rated G

Bound together by fate, they finally found each other.

-

Safe in your Arms [ART] by MassiveSpaceWren

WinterIron / Rated G

Finally, Bucky is back in Tony's arms, where he longs to be.

-

Scentsational by swtalmnd for newtypeshadow

Stuckony / Rated T

Tony goes to a scent-matching service, and matches with our bonded couple, Steve and Bucky.

-

Shelter from the Cold [ART] by MassiveSpaceWren

WinterIron / Rated T

Knights Bucky and Steve are trying to keep their king protected in the snow storm.

-

So Soft and Gentle by TrinityDay

Stucky / Rated T

Five times people noticed that Steve Rogers liked soft things (and one time someone told him to his face).

-

Stranded [ART] by MassiveSpaceWren

Stuckony / Rated G

The terrain is rough, but Steve, Tony and Bucky treck onwards. Maybe after the next mountain ridge, they will find out where they are.

-

What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You by KandiSheek

Stony / Rated T

Steve and Tony are good friends. Very good friends. The kind of friends that go out to eat every other day, cuddle on the couch and are all up in each others' space.

They're not dating though. No matter what the team says. Right?

-

You Are The Moon That Breaks The Night by MercurialMagpie

Stuckony / Rated E

Mage Tony and werewolves Bucky and Steve are the best cursebreaking team in Nova York. Maybe they can be more, too?

-

you are the sweetest melody i never sung by soliloquent for Naivelittleprincess

Stuckony / Rated T

“A soft tune cuts through his thoughts and seeps right in between the cracks of his broken mind. It sounds like a slow, gentle piano song, and it soothes his senses, numbs his tension, and lulls him to the smooth edge of sleep.”

—⎊—

or: Bucky struggles with insomnia, Tony plays the piano, and Steve just wants the two most important men in his life to get along. 🎶

-

You Have My Sword As Well As My Heart by Aquatigermice

Stuckony / Rated E

Sir Steven Rogers would like to admit that he thinks this whole Royal Progress thing is a very stupid idea. But it's the King's idea. And no one is above the King when it's all said and done.

But the fact of the matter is that even his King is just human. And there was a time when the man was something less important to the country. Yet still as important to Steve and his fellow knight Sir James Barnes.

-

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 8 - Close Call▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ From the moment he saw you in the convenience store, he thought you were a major fucking pain in the ass.

The way you stared at him in disgust—the way everyone fucking stared at him—like he was some piece of garbage to be thrown out, made him want to strangle you until he saw the light leaving your eyes. You thought you were so fucking cool, talking back to him when you had no clue who he was or what he was capable of.

Absolutely fucking clueless. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine Updates every Monday!

Chapter 8 - Close Call

The changing colors, seeping through the old glass panels of your dirty windows and dancing against your almost white walls were the only indication that time was actually passing—leaving you behind.

Occasionally there would be a loud motorcycle racing down the empty street, or you would hear neighbors arguing with each other somewhere alongside the building.

Your head was now hanging off your bed and you were boring holes into the space. Maybe you’d be lucky to form a blood clot on your brain, have a stroke and die.

You’d snort at the thought, but you’re too tired to fucking care. Instead, you only feel empty, empty, empty.

Somewhere deep down, you think you feel hungry too.

When was the last time you had eaten? You’ve probably been laying on your bed like this for hours today.

You – im taking the next few days off, dont come over i’ll be fine

Despite your phone ringing for days, your friend knew better than to try and come over when you felt like this. You still don’t pick up.

This type of shut-down happened only one other time during your friendship, somewhere last year when your ex found out where you lived and showed up to talk.

Talk with his fist against your face when you told him—knife in your hand—to fucking dare get any closer.

Taylor's impeccable sixth sense, otherwise known as obsession to bother you whenever it suited them best, saved you that day…from trying to slice his fucking throat open.

You don’t remember how your friend got rid of him, especially when you’d told them you’d get in big trouble if they called the authorities to report him, but after the adrenaline passed, you had crashed for two weeks.

It worried them sick. That, you remember.

They eventually called the police and the paramedics to break into your apartment, but you just stood there, confused. You ended up warning Taylor to leave you alone when this happened, the presence of people—of the fucking police—only draining you and pushing you over the edge.

You’d be fine soon, but everyone needed to fuck off.

The officer had gotten really angry after realizing you were cognizant enough to stay out of the psych ward, and almost wrote both of you up for wasting his time with dramatics.

Taylor doesn’t fully understand why or how you end up shutting down. They never feel the need to hide away from the world, no matter how traumatic any incident was to them.

In fact, it was quite the opposite for your friend. Where you would hide from everyone, they would distract themselves with parties, drugs, hook-ups. Anything to make it better. You weren’t like them, though.

You were you.

That however, didn’t stop Taylor from blowing up your phone—asking, offering, pestering you every single day, if they could bring you something to eat at least.

You don’t reply.

You need space.

Space to pretend you don't exist.

Expecting to be fired, you had called your manager Gene (you don’t remember at what point, though), to tell him you didn’t really know when you’d be available to take another shift. He told you not to worry about it and take as many days off as you needed “kid”.

It reminded you that not all people in the world were assholes. That at least some people cared about you.

You could probably count the amount of nice things anyone’s done to you on your fingers.

So you do. You raise your hand in front of your face, while your head is still hanging off the bed, and start literally counting on your fucking fingers.

There was Taylor—you put one finger down.

There was your manager—you put a second finger down.

There was also that guy at the arcade, the one you should probably quit worrying about. You didn’t message him again after you told him you would, and it still fucking bothers you for some reason. Despite that, he counted as someone who was nice to you. You put a third finger down.

Would he be weirded out if you messaged him now? Maybe you could hit the arcade with someone outside your bubble, and forget you were you for a second. You end up spacing out again.

A distant ringtone brings you out of your daze and you glance at your phone. You’d changed your number. Was that last week? How many days have passed?

You don’t remember.

You should probably order take-out before you pass out again.

Fast food, you think.

Yeah, fast food sounds really damn good right now, fuck your savings.

Dead people need no savings.

The phone is still ringing. You reach for it and look at the display. Unknown number.

Against your better judgment, you pick up. You still hoped it wasn’t another creep looking for a hook-up. If it was, maybe you’d take them up on it, fuck it.

That’s what they all expected from you anyways.

However, you were met with only silence for a while.

“Hey,” the last person you wanted to hear from says quietly. “I uhh—I got this number from your friend.” you hear him swallowing thickly, making you frown.

Did he fucking threaten them? You should be getting mad, but all you can feel is nothing.

“I’ve—...It’s been a while since you, uh...” you hear him curse under his breath as he trailed off, “It’s been two weeks. Your friend, uh, Taylor? Told me you’re not feeling well and—”

“What do you want from me?” you snap, hearing your voice sounding rough, from prolonged dehydration if you had to guess. You wanted to reply with some snarky comment, something to taunt him, but you didn’t have energy. You couldn’t care less anyways.

Nothing fucking matters.

After a moment of hesitation, Shigaraki almost whispered.

“Come back to school.”

“Alright, fuck off.” you reply, raising your phone to your face and almost ending the call if not for the bright fucking screen blinding you for a second.

“I deleted them.” he said, attempting to keep you from hanging up.

It worked.

“Huh?”

“I removed the thread. It doesn’t exist anymore. Anywhere. At all.”

For a moment, you think about it, realizing you’re supposed to feel some sort of relief—but all you felt was nothing.

“Why.” you say, not ask. You don’t understand, why would he go through the trouble?

Thinking is really hard right now.

“Come to school and we’ll talk. Have you eaten yet?” you think you hear concern in his voice, but you know better, so you scoff.

It took you a while to reply, but he didn’t press you the way he always did.

He just… waited.

“...No.”

“Do you…” he mumbles, hesitating again. “Do you wanna grab a bite with me? I’ll—I’ll pay.” he hurried to get it out before you shut him down.

“Shigaraki.”

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you?”

“If you let me take you out once, you’ll find out.” he promises.

A promise that you didn’t care for him to fulfill.

You huffed and shuffled around and weren’t about to make this easy for him, he knew.

He knew you never will, but he’s nothing if not ambitious.

“We’re not friends.” you bite, “We’re not even on friendly terms. I was an asshole to you, I fucked with you and you got to ruin my life in return. The end.” you asserted, going over the list with him. “How stupid do you think I am? Even if you did get rid of the thread now, everyone fucking saw everything, they could have saved it, the damage is—”

“Done, I know. I…”

You rolled your eyes, almost cutting him off again, but still waited to hear what he had to say—which was fucking nothing apparently, because he ended up only cursing and sighing.

It wasn’t hard to figure out how someone could end up as fucked up as he was.

If life managed to fuck you up and help you become as dysfunctional as you were right now, you can’t imagine the damage it takes for a person to grow into someone like him.

Rich people are weird, but they’re also cowards. They don’t stand out like he does, they mostly keep to themselves—keep the dirt in the family, behind closed doors.

Yet Shigaraki seemed to only seek destruction in his path.

Either he was born a natural psychopath and his parents don’t fucking care about him or…they too were insane pieces of shit—

You blink. Why on earth would you rationalize his fucking behaviour?! God knows you didn’t go to therapy for so long only for you to fall back into bad habits.

He hurt you. He is the bad guy.

But by that standard, so were you, if you counted the times you’ve fucked up in your life, until you were lucky to know better. Regardless of what your therapist would tell you.

Besides, you’ve been through much worse than what he’s shown you so far.

You’ll probably spend the rest of your life regretting your following words.

“Where…did you wanna meet?”

His ears perked up at that, phone slipping from his hands and crashing on the floor. You heard muffled curses and a hasty reply.

“Fuck, really?! You’ll come?”

If you’re honest, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound positively excited—save for whenever he caught you suffering—but then again, you don’t really know him at all.

The reason you’re even willing to take him up on his offer, as stupid as it was, is the same self-destructive reason you would’ve hooked up with any residual college creep you expected to call you earlier.

Because you deeply, deeply needed to sabotage yourself.

“Keep asking, and I might change my mind. I gotta shower first and—oh,” is the last thing he hears before you trip and—thud—face plant. “Fuck.” you said softly, closing your eyes.

You didn’t really eat or drink anything lately, which was probably why you felt your consciousness slowly slipping away.

“Hey—okay?—llo?”

His panicked raspy voice is the last thing you hear before you’re completely out of it.

You hope it was for good this time. ─────────

The first sign that you’re unfortunately still very much alive, is that you don’t feel the promised nothingness. The forever inexistence you hoped to achieve after your oh-so-tragic passing. Where would they bury you, anyways?

Instead, the first sound that your brain registers is a loud pounding in the distance.

Followed by people yelling.

Feeling your mind slowly booting up, you attempt to get up.

Instead of succeeding though, you slip and fall again, groaning audibly. Around the third attempt, you finally get to your feet.

Miserable and clutching your empty, hurting stomach, you slowly walk towards the source of the obnoxious pounding, feeling an awful lot of deja vu.

“Fuck off! This is your fucking fault—” you hear and immediately recognize your best friend’s voice arguing with…?

“Get off my fucking case. If you would’ve checked up on her we wouldn't even be here, you dumb—”

Ah, of course he’d be here too. How is it that he’s anywhere and everywhere, all at once—from the moment you fall asleep to the moment you wake, incessantly haunting you like a goddamn fucking ghost.

“Shut the fuck UP, you creep! Don’t get me STARTED, you insane piece of shit, do you even know what she even went through when you—”

Being fed up with the noise, you open the door to the commotion, interrupting their argument as both of the loud idiots snap their heads towards the woman of the hour.

“I have fucking neighbors too, you know?”

They both stared at you as if you became the eighth wonder of the world, prompting you to arch a brow.

“Well, you look like shit.” Shigaraki breaks the tension.

Both you and your friend glare daggers at him.

“What?” he mumbles, looking away, his hand habitually reaching to scratch his neck. “It’s true.”

Rolling your eyes while Taylor was gearing up to say something back, you open your door for them to come in.

“Do not talk shit about the mess,” you say, kicking random things out of your way. “I don’t have a couch, sit wherever you want, or don’t. I don’t care.”

You trip right after saying that, but Shigaraki is quick to grab you by your waist, making you stiffen up and immediately shove him off.

“Do not fucking touch me.” you hiss, and he huffs in response, frowning.

Normally, you know he wouldn’t let that slide, but something weird is going on with him and you don’t have the willpower or energy to unpack his nice guy behavior from today.

Taylor was knocking shit over, opening and closing what seemed like every fucking drawer and cupboard of your two by two kitchen, trying to find something—anything—that was edible in your pantry.

“I’m fine, you really didn’t have to come over. Especially not you.” you glare at Shigaraki and say it like you weren’t starving to death and were ready to be put in a coffin if they hadn’t shown up.

“Like hell you are!” your friend replies sharply, not bothering to spare you a second look in their quest for finding food.

Your eyes landed on him again, noticing his head hanging low and the mop of white hair messily covering his face as he furiously scratched at his neck, drawing blood from the sensitive skin. You couldn’t see his expression save for a glimpse of red, and honestly didn’t really care to.

“Yuck, stop that.” you swat his hand away.

Shigaraki finally meets your eyes and you notice dark eyebags. He looked worse than he normally did, and that’s saying something. He was so confident and full of himself usually, so much so, that this weird uncertainty looked out of place on his face. What made him so uneasy?

“What?” you spit.

He doesn’t reply, instead he grunts and looks away. The fuck is his problem?

“Okay! So!” Taylor makes their way over with a glass of cold water and hands it to you. “You have absolutely fucking nothing to eat in this dump you call home. Incredible news, I know.” they rolled their eyes and placed their hands on their hips while you immediately started chugging the glass down. Who knew water could taste so refreshing?

“Shigaraki, be a big boy and go to the convenience store ‘round the corner to buy a few things while I help this bitch clean up. Don’t buy anything too heavy on the stomach, ‘cos she hasn’t eaten in a while, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

Oh, you just noticed. They were mad. But that would come later, when you’re stable enough to take an honest-to-god beating from them.

“Wha—Why the fuck would I go?” he growls at Taylor irritatedly, but is only met with a smug look.

“Ok then, I’ll go! Are you going to stay here, take her clothes off and help her take a shower? Scrub her clean for me, babe? Can’t you see she can barely fucking stand?” Taylor shot him a look.

“Hey! I’m not a fucking kid!” you say but they both ignored you.

Shigaraki’s eyes widen and a bright red flush spreads on his pale features.

“That’s what I thought.” Taylor snorts.

You can’t help but stare at him incredulously. Was he seriously flustered at the mere prospect of you taking your clothes off? He’s literally seen god knows how much disgusting footage of you naked or fucking somebody. Not only that but he also posted said footage online for everyone to jerk off to.

Is this the same guy who pinned you against the wall in a public hallway, telling you how undeserving of his cock you were, because you were a little mean to him? The train of thought filled you with newfound anger, but before you could snap at Taylor for even daring to suggest such a thing instead of kicking him out, they spoke first.

“I know I took you with me on a whim,” your friend begins, referring to the only black fucking sheep in the room, “But I really don’t trust you after all the bullshit. Hooooonestly… I’m still waiting for her to snap at me for showing you where she lives. She’s about to use the last three percent of her energy to try to kill me, so you better go now. It’s the least you can do for her, emo boy.” Taylor says, bracing themselves and it finally clicks.

Oh.

Oh, right.

“Seriously?! What the FUCK were you thinking?” you shout at them.

You know your friend was careless, but letting Shigaraki have more access to ways of fucking you over was pushing it.

“Wait, wait, wait! I can explain!” were Taylor’s famous last words, as you deliriously started hauling any object or piece of trash you could at them.

Tomura glanced at you a final time, before quietly slipping past the both of you and out of the noisy apartment.

Your friend wasn’t lying to you, they really did only take him with them on a whim.

In fact, they had a whole ass mental breakdown when he texted them about what happened. Shigaraki didn’t really understand why they let him see you after all that he’s done, figuring they must be really fucking dumb and a horrible friend.

He wasn’t about to complain, though.

This was a golden opportunity for him to learn what made you tick and how to break you just enough to build you up again for him—without risking you killing yourself in the process.

He needed to be very careful in the future, unlike today where he almost fucked up, underestimating just how fragile your will to live was.

He’d make you want to live, he told himself as he was walking down the stairs of your building. He’s gotten this far—and after all, there was no end boss he couldn’t beat before.

Little did you know, the past few weeks had been rough for him too.

Not that you’d ever find out—or care. ───────── The bell rang and he was still standing in the hallway where you left him, looking off in the distance and hoping to materialize you again out of thin air.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

His neck was unbearably itchy at the thought of you rejecting him again. At the thought of himself messing up. He never messes up. It didn’t make sense.

He shouldn’t care about you.

You were nothing to him before.

From the moment he saw you in the convenience store, he thought you were a major fucking pain in the ass.

The way you stared at him in disgust—the way everyone fucking stared at him—like he was some piece of garbage to be thrown out, made him want to strangle you until he saw the light leaving your eyes. You thought you were so fucking cool, talking back to him when you had no clue who he was or what he was capable of.

Absolutely fucking clueless.

Amusement twinkled in his eyes at your harmless retorts, the best part being that you managed to fuck up in front of him seconds later. What a mess you were.

Like him.

Shigaraki couldn’t help but giggle at your clumsiness.

What an idiot, forgetting your wallet right after you bared your teeth at him. Did you need someone to save you? That’s alright, he can treat you this time. He likes it when people owe him after all. It allowed him to own them.

He didn’t wanna believe his luck when he immediately spots you in class the next day, sitting in his favorite seat. Things couldn’t be more perfect, his new favorite little bitch was going to the same university as him, sharing his classes.

He couldn’t have found a more convenient toy to break if he tried.

“Hey, sponger.” he hits you with a grin from between his dry lips.

Shigaraki could see your brows pinching in surprise.

He very soon found out that he took great pleasure in making you squirm for him. It was funny seeing you getting frustrated over him sitting next to you in class. The same guy who humiliated you one day prior. He fucking reveled in that look.

“Why– ” you start, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. He watched you gather your thoughts before you spoke again. “How did you even recognize me?”

Your irritation sounded so, so sweet to his ears. Not even the professor walking in could hold him back from messing with you. He leaned into you and whispered, noticing you visibly shuddering at that.

“I’d recognize an ugly skank like you virtually anywhere, rest assured, idiot.” he said, making sure to verbally underline the insult way longer than it was necessary.

Shigaraki watched your reaction, hoping you’d bite back so he could push, push, push. You were so much fun and he’s just met you.

Generally people—especially women—avoided him like the fucking plague.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what he looked like, his status and horrible personality doing nothing to help him either, save for a few crazies that got off on his violent nature and the hookers his Master occasionally books and insists he should indulge in, despite him turning them down every time.

People were generally afraid of him, but as much as people disliked him, they usually hid it well most of the time, not wanting to become part of his famous track record—to give him a reason to retaliate.

You, however, openly displayed your disgust. You didn’t hide it. You wore it on your sleeve. You weren’t afraid to be found out, in fact you wanted to make sure he heard you.

And he did hear you, crystal fucking clear. Only, he didn’t expect you to be so… Well, you.

Leaning into him yourself, if not a little more aggressively in comparison to his own gesture, you proceed to trap him in his own seat, arm reaching around the back, but deliberately not touching him.

You didn’t touch him but he could feel you. He could feel the warmth radiating from your body, being so close to him. People never got close to him unless he wanted them to, but you fucking dare. His breath hitched.

“I’d hold up a mirror, so you can finally get to see your own dusty ass, but you’d have to buy that for me too, jackass.” you had said, practically spitting in his face. Turns out you coincidentally also didn’t give a fuck about the professor.

Tomura’s eyes widen in the process and he backs off, scratching his neck somewhat disturbingly. Fuck, that was unexpected and you were so fucking cute. It took him a second to compose himself, because your bratty little comeback comment went straight to his cock.

That means, if I play this right—

He finally turned to you again and opened his mouth…

“If you don’t kill the stupid goblin at the beginning of the stage, the final boss won’t carry your S-Grade.” he casually states, pointing at your screen.

Once again, he marveled at how fucking lucky he was. You were playing one of his favorite MMOs–good pick, by the way—allowing him to latch onto that topic like a lifeline. He had to hurry and quickly get on your good side.

Before you found out who he really was and all the half-truths reached your ears too, his notorious reputation ruining everything for him.

“Huh?” you blink.

He found your confused face endearing, but you wouldn’t know that yet. Not until you properly became his.

“Tsk, your game, dumbass. You’ve probably been grinding for hours, only getting it once or twice because you never think to kill the stupid goblin, and only ever do it by accident.” he shrugged. “No one ever does, so they don’t find the pattern without looking up a guide.”

He didn’t expect you to be so obedient already, but you seemed to be either really fucking clueless or incredibly confident, because you actually took him up on his advice, and while you were busy trying out the new acquired strategy, he took his time to really observe you.

Tomura leaned in closer and couldn’t believe how oblivious you could be.

You seemed to dislike him so much, but you let him get close to you? So close that he could easily inhale the nice scent of your shampoo, and because your hair looked so inviting, he wanted to run his fingers through it.

To grip it hard and make your pretty head bob up and down his—

“Ugh!” you slammed your fist on the desk, earning you a few looks. Luckily for him, you didn’t give a fuck.

Close, too close.

His hand was hanging in the air, just behind your head—almost touching you. He quickly retracted it and resumed to just observing you.

How many silly dates would it take you to let him drag you into his apartment? He glanced at your neck. What would you sound like if he marked you? If he covered your body with so many bruises and hickeys until everyone knew you were his? What was your favorite co-op game? Would you sit in his lap when you played together? Would he be able to get you to cockwarm him while you were playing? What was your favorite take-out dinner? Your movie? Do you have siblings? How many lovers have you had? Would he be your first, like you would be his? Would you enjoy being speared on his dick, where you belonged? Would you take him, like the good girl he knows you’ll be? He wasn’t stupid, he knew he’d have to tame you somehow, but you’ll understand. You’ll become his favorite plaything.

Tomura’s thoughts were spiraling uncontrollably and he felt that couldn’t wait. Especially when his cock was so fucking hard and straining against the fabric of his jeans, that it almost hurt.

If only he could skip the boring dialogue and get to the fucking cutscene.

During the little time where his head wasn’t filled with thoughts of bending you over the desk and pounding your pussy in front of the whole class to see, he found out he actually enjoyed something as boring as watching you play.

You were surprisingly decent. Better than Spinner at least. The gear that you were wearing consisted of only legendary sets, ones he’d even use himself—if only with a few modifications to the stats. The kind of gear that, if you were lucky, only dropped from bosses that spawn once a month.

By the time you’d finished your second run, an idea formed in his head.

“Told you so.” he says matter-of-factly, without even a hint of smugness in his voice.

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes.

It’s alright, he thought. People often got annoyed at him when he was right. You’ll come around, and even if you didn’t, you’d still be fun to debate with, he could tell. You looked so fuckable when you were pouting like a brat, too. It made him want to see you cry.

“Don’t look so pissy, it took me like a week to figure it out and it really drove me insane,” he says, thinking back fondly to all the controllers he managed to break. “I’m usually pretty good at these types of tells in games, but the design of this one made no fucking sense.“

He glances at your game thoughtfully, not catching on, on the fact that it was him that pissed you off, not the game itself. “What's your IGN? We can co-op and raid together.”

It was a great idea, actually.

Partaking in one of his favorite hobbies and getting to know you better would be peak. Two birds with one stone. He’d take it slow, then he’d sweep you off your feet, impressing you with his gaming abilities, knocking your pride down a peg or two. You’d learn to like him too, he resolved.

He’s not all that bad if you left out—a lot of things.

“Sorry?”

You looked at him as if he grew another head.

Huh? What’s wrong? He felt his body starting to itch again.

Why the fuck were you looking at him like that?

You were supposed to want to get to know him too, weren’t you?

But the bell rings before he can say anything to you, and you scurry off, his eyes never leaving your figure until you are out of his sight.

Tomura was now scratching his neck furiously, drawing blood and reopening recently closed wounds, glaring at anyone who dared to so much as look at him in this moment.

He was wrong about you. How could he be wrong? He was never wrong.

But he was. You were exactly like the rest of them.

Stupid bitch.

It’s fine.

He’d find a way to teach you a lesson. ───────── The inside of the convenience store was dimly lit in comparison to the first time he’d met you on his errands, a soft fluorescent glow trying its best to light the store up instead of the bright neon lights that blinded him that day.

The air smelled like a blend of dirty mop water and tobacco, combining into a disgusting but familiar musty scent. Behind the counter wasn’t the usual cashier dude, but an old lady smoking inside the establishment. Tomura scoffed and figured it must’ve been the owner, unable to otherwise explain the audacity.

Fidgeting, he looked around the aisles at various food objects. Would instant noodles count as ‘easy on your stomach’? He’s never really had to care for anyone before, and he’s always had Kurogiri when it came to being cared for.

He shook his head, scrunching his nose and kept searching. It took him about two minutes of googling and another three of pacing around the aisles, his eyes lighting up the moment he finally spotted the canned article in question.

Unbeknownst to him, it was one of your favorite comfort foods.

Chicken soup.

[divine-misfortune]

stares at you with my bug eyes please do go on 👁👁

Oh boy! Okay super rambly!

The consent is dubious because its mostly covert...but Phantom ends up liking the idea of being corrupted into a fucktoy sooo.....

Idk what this is.

Don't talk to me-

Aether's amused by the new bug from the start. From first glance, those big dark eyes had his full attention. He likes to watch him move about the pack. It's curious the way he tries to fit himself in - like he's nervous that the spaces he steps into wont fit him snugly. Skittish, in a sense. Phantom startles easy, he finds him to shy away even easier, always toeing the outside.

He finds himself spending a lot of time with Phantom. Between the hours in the practice room and the long evenings slaving away in the infirmary, Aether realizes the fresh summon is practically glued to him. It's endearing, but more importantly it piques his interest. It feels like he is the only one Phantom doesn't skirt around, he's not afraid to be alone with him. A silent room doesn't feel like a time bomb.

And truthfully he doesn't mind his company. He's sweet, and oblivious.

When Aether probes about his experience with quintessence, Phantom flushes and sheepishly admits how little he understands it which was to be expected. If not for Omega, Aether would have been clueless to the power that he had just at his fingertips. And this gift was not something to be squandered. Aether smiles, promises in time he'll be quite familiar and well versed in the subject. The little ghoul seems so happy, eager even. Phantom doesn't even seem to notice the dark flicker in his mentor's eyes.

And Aether, always one to keep his promises, does as he said he would.

He starts slow, always preferring to play with his food before he opts to strike.

Little touches; his arm, the back of his neck, just above his tailbone. Always just a soft graze, a small dose of magic here and there. Not enough to really impair any senses, not yet at least, just enough to make him shudder. Give him a taste of it as well as jump starting the dormant quintessence inside him, waking up a hidden beast.

And then it's the whispers. He speaks low and softly against Phantom's ear, voice laced with honey and a touch of rum to stick to the inner walls of his skull but leave his head spinning all the same. It's delicious seeing Phantom's shoulders start to relax, hearing his breath start to deepen, watching him struggle to finish his train of thought and begin to space out. It does something to Aether to watch his influence seep in without resistance. If he were a lesser man he'd give into need, slip his hand into his boxers, and blatantly take pleasure in how he could just steal the thoughts right out of his pretty little head.

The first time he truly slips into Phantom's brain is something he'll never forget. The little ghoul looked so confused when Aether ran his fingers through his hair, when his touch left his scalp tingling. He makes a confused sound that fades off as it all washes over him. He melts at the smallest dose and Aether is giddy to press into his mind, probe and see what makes him tick. And oh does he find it...Phantom is a little pervert from all that he can see. Only makes it easier to dig in, to play off of what already exists.

Such a sweet thing. The little ghoul itches to be desired. Needs to be needed in a way that ached un his belly. The further he searches, the more he finds. What interests him in particular are the fantasies neatly tucked away somewhere shameful.

His mind is filth at its finest. Images of the other ghouls that even make him blush.

And lifting up that heavy head, he smiles sickly sweet at Phantom. Watches his unfocused eyes fight to stay open, his lips part, all of it. He's so beautifully empty.

Resistance is a locked door at best, nothing his nimble fingers couldn't pick open. Of course, there are brick walls that not even he dares to prod at. Even without a grasp on his own magic, Phantom could push back against this. Others had. But all he finds are spaces to push into. Somewhere in there, Phantom wanted this, to be stripped open and picked apart. He may have claimed an ache for control but his body begged to be made helpless.

Not to mention the quintessence stirring up inside him, Aether slipping in apparently fanned the flames of it. It mingled into his own influence. Allowed itself to be guided through Phantom's body to fill his head like fog.

Aether reached further and tugged him back for a minute. With his head above the proverbial water, Phantom trembles and breathes heavily. His eyes are wide. Aether tips his head.

"What...What the fuck was that?"

"Just a little taste of what we possess, bug." He lifts his face up, pets over his jaw with his thumb and waits for Phantom to shout. To fight. Anything. But the ghoul just sits there in his little embrace.

"Little?"

"Oh I can go much...Much deeper, darling. But I didn't have to push deep to see that depravity."

His skin heats under his hands and his grin might as well of split his face. Phantom swallows, grips the comforter beneath him, and oh he's yet to see him properly flustered before.

"You want so bad, don't you?"

"I do." He admitted softly, that shyness creeping back in. "See you all, all the time, gets to me. Want it to be me. Want to be wanted like that."

"Oh you sweet thing..." his tongue ran over the back of his teeth. "I can show you what they want, how to be a good boy for each of them, and how to make them all fold...Just say yes."

His reluctance is barely enough to crease his face. Doesn't last long enough. All it takes is a whisper of approval and Phantom is pushed beneath the water again. His eyes roll back the second fingers find his temples. It's enough to shove him down fully this time. To suspend his thoughts in that safe vacant place.

He'd be such a good toy by the time Aether finished feeding off those hidden lustful thoughts and slipped out of his mind. Perfectly insatiable and addicted to the pleasure of being nothing more than just that, a toy.

And Phantom would be grateful for it, Aether could feel it as he curled his fingers into his very being.

[alumikyo]

The Fear of the Past

Yandere!Barry Allen x reader

Chapter 2

The next day, [Y/N] couldn't shake off the fear that had taken root in her heart. She entered the café with caution, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Barry's presence. Every customer became a potential threat, and she was on high alert.

When the time neared for Barry's usual entrance, [Y/N] swiftly retreated to the backroom, leaving someone else to handle her job until he left. She couldn't risk encountering him again, not after the darkness that had consumed him.

As [Y/N] took refuge in the safety of the backroom, her pulse gradually slowed, and she dared to hope that perhaps Barry would finally let her be. Little did she know that his calm demeanor concealed a storm of rage and obsession brewing within him. Doubts began to creep into his mind. He realized that his emotional outburst had made him suspicious in [Y/N]'s eyes, potentially damaging his chances of winning her over. Panic surged through him as he frantically contemplated what to do next.

In a moment of desperation, an idea struck Barry. What if he could go back and change the events that had unfolded just moments ago? It had worked before when he tried to save his mother, so why not now? After all, how much could the timeline change when he was only going back a day or two?

With a surge of determination, Barry quickly retreated to the café's washroom. Within the confined space, he shed his suit in a flash of lightning, moving too quickly for anyone to notice. He sprinted with unparalleled speed, initiating the time-travel process.

As Barry reached the desired point in the past, he found himself facing his past self, the version of him who was about to reveal his emotions to [Y/N]. Without wasting a second, Barry explained the situation, emphasizing the need to maintain composure.

"Hey Barry... uh, hey me... or, um... hey, past Barry?... Me from the past?" he stumbled over his words, his explanation oozing with confusion and awkwardness. "You see, it's a total brain-bender. Don’t- DO NOT reveal your feelings just yet. I mean, it's like tampering with the space-time continuum, and trust me, it's bad. I totally messed up, and now I've, like, zoomed back to sort things out. Look- it's super complicated, but you gotta keep a lid on it."

The Barry from the past blinked, trying to decipher the jumble of words his future self had thrown at him. His brow furrowed with a mix of bewilderment and comprehension as he grasped the weight of the situation. Gratitude seeped into his voice as he said, "I... I get it. Thanks…?"

With their awkward conversation behind them, both Barrys shared a brief moment of nerdy camaraderie, united by the complexity of their predicament. They understood the need for careful manipulation of their own actions to ensure the desired outcome with [Y/N].

Returning to the present, Barry found himself standing in front of [Y/N] once again, who continued preparing his sandwich without a hint of fear in her eyes. It was a sign that his intervention had successfully changed the past, erasing the effects of his emotional outburst.

Relief washed over Barry as he observed [Y/N]'s calmness, reassured that he still had a chance to manipulate her emotions and gain her trust. The darkness within him surged, fueled by the satisfaction of his successful alteration.

With a composed smile, Barry approached [Y/N], his voice filled with false gratitude. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he said, masking his true intentions. "I really appreciate your understanding. It means a lot to me."

Deep down, he relished the power he held over her, knowing that he could continue his manipulative pursuit without consequences. Barry was determined to exploit [Y/N]'s forgiving nature, using it to establish a connection that extended far beyond friendship. Little did she know the twisted depths of his obsession concealed beneath his charming facade.

As [Y/N] turned to attend to the next customer, Barry's gaze followed her, his mind already plotting their next encounter. He couldn't wait to be by her side once again, basking in her forgiving nature and slowly tightening his grip around her fragile heart. His voice, when he spoke, held an eerie calmness, belying the storm of emotions swirling within him. "It seems she still needs time," he muttered to himself. "I must be patient, make her trust me again."

As Barry continued with his routine, his mind raced with thoughts of his recent actions. He chastised himself for being too hasty, for scaring [Y/N] with his intense emotions. He should have taken a more measured approach, slowly luring her into his web of obsession. But there was no turning back now. He had to devise a plan that would make her depend on him, erasing the memory of his unsettling behavior.

Days turned into weeks, and Barry meticulously carried out his plan, carefully orchestrating the staged attack on the café. His panic and self-doubt transformed into a cold determination. He knew this was the perfect opportunity to portray himself as [Y/N]'s savior, to establish a sense of reliance and gratitude.

—————

"Are you out of your mind?" A group of male teenagers looked at Barry with disdain. "We're not going to be a part of your sick games." Barry's gaze hardened, and in an instant, his true nature surfaced. Without warning, he seized one of the teens by the collar, his grip vice-like and suffocating. The room fell into a stunned silence as Barry's fist connected with the young man's face, the impact reverberating through the air. Blood trickled from the corner of the teen's mouth as he crumpled to the ground, a living testament to Barry's capacity for violence. "That's just a taste of what I'm capable of," Barry sneered, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Now, are you going to reconsider?"

Barry's grip on the injured teen loosened slightly as he straightened himself, relishing in the atmosphere of fear that enveloped the group. With a cold, calculating gaze, he addressed them in a chillingly calm tone. "I suggest you all think carefully about your next move," he hissed, a hint of menace tainting his words. "You see, I have a little plan, and it involves the very café right down this street."

The teens exchanged worried glances, their initial resistance giving way to a sense of trepidation. Barry's twisted charisma and the brutal demonstration of his power had shaken them to their core. They begrudgingly acknowledged that defying him further might only lead to more pain and suffering.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," Barry continued, his voice dripping with calculated manipulation. "I want you to scare everyone there a little. Please, take the money from the register too, go crazy, I don’t care.”

As the weight of Barry's plan sank in, the teens felt a sickening mix of fear and disbelief. They couldn't fathom the depths of his depravity, the lengths he was willing to go to control and manipulate those around him. Yet, with the injured teen struggling to rise from the ground, his pain serving as a reminder of the consequences of disobedience, they reluctantly began to consider their grim options.

Barry's smile widened, a twisted satisfaction filling his eyes. He reveled in the power he held over these impressionable minds, the sense of control intoxicating his twisted psyche. The stage was set for his grand manipulation, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his dark desires.

The remaining teens, their fear palpable, mustered the courage to speak up amidst the lingering pain and shock. One of them, his voice trembling, asked the question that weighed heavily on their minds. "And what happens to us after we do what you ask?" he inquired, his tone a mix of anxiety and desperation.

Barry's eyes narrowed, scanning the group with a predatory gaze. He let out a sinister chuckle, relishing in their vulnerability. "Oh, don't you worry," he replied with false reassurance. "Once the chaos unfolds, once you've completed your part, I will ensure your safety. You see, I have connections, ways to make sure the blame falls elsewhere. You'll walk away unscathed, with your part in this little game neatly concealed."

The teens exchanged uncertain glances, their expressions a reflection of their internal turmoil. The promise of safety offered a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of the situation. Barry's ability to manipulate their fears and doubts was both unnerving and persuasive, amplifying their hesitance to resist.

"Trust me," Barry continued, his voice dripping with a deceptive charm. "I have everything under control. I will take care of any loose ends and protect you. You'll be free to continue with your lives, untarnished by the events that unfold. But remember, betraying me would have dire consequences."

His words hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the power he wielded over their lives. The teens, though unsettled by the path they were being coerced into, felt trapped and cornered, believing that compliance might be their only chance at survival.

As the weight of their decisions settled upon them, the teens reluctantly nodded, their resolve wavering in the face of Barry's twisted authority. Deep down, they knew they were stepping into a world of darkness, a realm where the consequences of their actions might haunt them forever.

Barry, satisfied with their submission, wore a satisfied grin. His plans were falling into place, and the web of manipulation he had woven was tightening around them. The stage was set, and he would soon revel in the chaos and control he so desperately craved.

On that fateful day, when tranquility hung in the air, the cafe was abruptly thrust into chaos. The entrance swung open with a violent force as the group of teens stormed inside, their faces concealed by masks. Panic erupted among the unsuspecting customers, who cowered in fear, seeking shelter wherever they could.

Frozen with terror, [Y/N], the reader, stood behind the cash register, her hands trembling uncontrollably. The sight of the masked intruders and the escalating commotion left her paralyzed, unable to find the courage to take action. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run or fight back, but fear held her firmly in its grip.

Suddenly, one of the teens, a malicious glint in his eyes, spotted [Y/N]. He brandished a weapon, pointing it menacingly in her direction, demanding the money from the register. The adrenaline coursing through [Y/N]'s veins intensified, her heart pounding in her chest. She desperately searched for a way out, a way to escape the impending danger, but fear consumed her every thought.

"Give us the money!" the teen barked, his voice laden with aggression. The seconds stretched into eternity as [Y/N], her voice trapped within her throat, failed to respond. The teen's impatience grew, and he raised his weapon, poised to strike her.

Just as the blow was about to descend upon [Y/N], a figure lunged forward, knocking the weapon aside. It was Barry, the very person who had orchestrated this horrifying event. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and possessiveness as he shielded [Y/N] from harm, his fist connecting with the side of her face, delivering a punishing blow.

Pain seared through [Y/N]'s cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but the impact was a mere fraction of what it could have been. The sinister irony of Barry's actions was not lost on her—the very person who had terrorized her, the one she had hoped to escape from, had now become her savior in this moment of peril.

The chaos in the café reached a crescendo, as the other masked intruders struggled to regain control of the situation. Barry's calculated plan was unfolding perfectly, with him positioning himself as the hero amidst the mayhem he had orchestrated. The customers, caught in the crossfire, trembled with fear, unsure of who to trust or where safety could be found.

As [Y/N] clutched her stinging cheek, her gaze locked with Barry's, a mix of confusion, betrayal, and relief flickering in her eyes. The path ahead grew even more treacherous, as she grappled with the conflicting emotions of gratitude for being saved and the chilling reality of the person responsible for her torment now being her protector.

The conflicting emotions swirled within [Y/N] as she stared into Barry's eyes, his reassuring gaze tinged with concern yet possessiveness. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the cafe, he seemed like her only anchor, the one person who could shield her from the storm he himself had unleashed.

Barry approached [Y/N] with measured steps, his voice a soothing whisper amidst the cacophony. "Are you alright?" he asked, his concern laced with a possessive undertone. "I'm here now, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Torn between the gratitude of being saved and the realization of the darkness lurking within Barry's soul, [Y/N] hesitated. Her instincts urged her to reject his comfort, to run as far away from him as possible. But the fear that gripped her heart, the fear of what he might do if she defied him, held her captive.

As the plan unfolded, Barry couldn't help but recall the first time he had encountered [Y/N], his obsession taking root. Flashbacks flooded his mind, transporting him back to that rainy day when he had hit rock bottom. He remembered sitting alone on a bench, soaked to the bone, feeling the weight of his failures as The Flash. The lives he couldn't save haunted him, consuming his thoughts.

Lost in his despair, Barry had been oblivious to his surroundings until he felt the rain cease. He glanced up, his eyes meeting an umbrella shielding him from the downpour. And there, standing before him, was [Y/N], a stranger who approached with concern and kindness. She had comforted him, leading him to the café just across the street, not even knowing why he was so broken.

"I saw you sitting there for hours," [Y/N] had said softly, her voice carrying warmth. "When the rain started, I couldn't just leave you like that. Please, let me offer you a warm drink on the house."

It was in that moment that Barry felt a glimmer of hope, a sense of connection that he had longed for. [Y/N]'s genuine care and compassion had touched him in a way no one else had. For the first time in his life, he felt a genuine warmth radiating from someone, a feeling he desperately craved.

And now, as he executed his plan, Barry was driven by the memory of that encounter. He wanted to recreate that vulnerability, that moment where [Y/N] had offered him solace. In his twisted mind, he believed that by orchestrating events where she had no choice but to rely on him, she would forget the darkness he had revealed.

As the pieces of his plan fell into place, Barry muttered to himself, a mixture of panic and determination in his voice. "I went in too fast, too impulsive. But this plan, this brilliant plan, will make her see how much she needs me. She will forget, and I will ensure that our fates become inextricably entwined."

A sinister smile played on Barry's lips as he reveled in his dark intentions. To the world, he would be [Y/N]'s hero, her knight in shining armor. But deep down, he knew the truth of his obsession, and he reveled in the power he held over her unknowing heart.

Before [Y/N] could fully comprehend the situation, Barry turned his attention to the teen who had attempted to strike her. With a swift and brutal motion, he twisted the teen's arm, causing a sickening snap that echoed through the chaos-filled room. The teen howled in pain, his agony a testament to Barry's strength and cruelty.

But the horror didn't end there. As the teen struggled to form words, to reveal their agreement or betray Barry's plan, he silenced him with a violent act. Barry slammed the teen's head down onto the counter, the force of the impact silencing any further words. Blood stained the surface as the other intruders, witnessing the brutal scene, charged at Barry, driven by a mix of rage and desperation.

In that perilous moment, Barry cast a quick glance back at [Y/N], his eyes filled with a combination of urgency and determination. He whispered urgently, his words barely audible amidst the chaos, "Call the police. I'll handle them. Trust me."

As [Y/N] trembled with fear, her heart pounding in her chest, she found herself torn once again. The man who had orchestrated this terrifying ordeal, the man who had harmed her, was now urging her to take action for her own safety. In that moment, the weight of her decisions pressed heavily upon her, as she realized that Barry's desire for her had entangled her in a web of manipulation and danger.

With a surge of adrenaline and a lingering sense of self-preservation, [Y/N] found the strength to move. She cautiously made her way towards the nearest phone, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Her thoughts raced, torn between the desire to escape and the knowledge that the very person she sought to flee from was now playing the role of her protector.

As she dialed the emergency number, her mind clouded with uncertainty. The path ahead had grown treacherous, marked by a disturbing blend of gratitude and terror.

As chaos raged around them, one of the teens managed to utter, "Hey, this wasn't part of the deal..." His words hung in the air for a fleeting moment before Barry swiftly silenced him, striking him with a forceful blow that rendered him unconscious. Barry's eyes darted towards [Y/N], his expression a mixture of concern and panic, fearing that she may have overheard anything that could jeopardize his plan.

Meanwhile, [Y/N] had just finished her call with the police, her ears ringing from the commotion and her mind clouded with a mix of fear and confusion. She noticed the teen's mouth moving just before Barry's decisive action, planting a seed of suspicion in her mind. Yet, amidst the overwhelming chaos, she had little time to dwell on it.

Barry hurriedly made his way to [Y/N] as she struggled to maintain her balance, leaning heavily on the nearby table for support. His touch replaced the cold, unyielding surface as he gently held her hand, providing a sense of stability and solace. In that moment, she allowed herself to release the tension gripping her body, her legs giving way as she collapsed to the ground.

With a sense of urgency, Barry supported [Y/N], guiding her to sit on the floor. His touch lingered, and though he felt a surge of desire, he reined in his impulses, knowing he needed to maintain the false pretense of comforting her. His voice, filled with feigned concern, broke the tense silence.

"Take deep breaths, [Y/N]. You're safe now," he reassured her, his voice a tender whisper amidst the turmoil. "Just focus on calming down. I won't let anyone harm you."

Her heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The touch of his hand, the soothing tone of his voice—it all played into her vulnerability, creating a semblance of safety in this terrifying ordeal. Part of her yearned to believe his words, to find solace in his presence, while another part remained wary of the dark intentions that lurked beneath his facade.

Barry's eyes, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and desire, locked onto [Y/N]'s. He reveled in the power he held over her, the control he exerted through his calculated actions. Yet, he had to maintain his charade, to keep her under his spell for just a while longer.

"You're going to be okay, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous tenderness. "I'll make sure of it. Trust me, trust in us."

In that moment, as [Y/N] gazed into his eyes, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope mingled with a sense of dread. The lines between reality and illusion blurred, leaving her trapped in a web of manipulation, desire, and the desperate longing for escape.

Barry mustered a nervous smile, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with his phone. He pulled up his contact information and hesitantly extended it towards [Y/N]. His usually confident and quick hands were now unsteady, betraying the nervousness that coursed through his veins.

"Here," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "My... my number. In case... in case you ever need someone to talk to or if anything happens."

His eyes locked with hers, searching for a sign of acceptance or reassurance. The weight of his desire to be there for her in any way he could made his heart pound in his chest, causing his words to come out in a rush.

"I mean, not that I expect anything to happen or that you'll need to call me. But just... just in case, you know?" he added, stumbling over his own words. "I... I genuinely care about your well-being, [Y/N]."

She accepted the phone number with a gentle nod, her own hands trembling slightly as she took in the significance of the moment. The contradictory feelings of gratitude and apprehension swirled within her, leaving her uncertain of how to proceed.

"Thank you, Barry," she replied softly, her voice laced with a mix of gratitude and caution. "I'll... I'll keep it in mind. I appreciate your concern."

As the door closed between them, Barry retreated from [Y/N]'s doorstep, his heart heavy with a potent mix of anticipation and unease. He knew that the true depth of his intentions, driven by obsession and manipulation, could never be revealed. Yet, he clung to the false pretense of caring for her, cherishing the moments they shared, even if they were shrouded in deceit.

As [Y/N] stared at the phone number displayed on her screen, she couldn't help but wonder about the man who had become entangled in her life. The lines between hero and villain blurred in her mind, leaving her torn between the gratitude for his actions and the lingering doubts about his true intentions.

In the silence of her room, she contemplated the enigmatic figure who had saved her, unsure of the treacherous path that lay ahead. Little did she know that the web of deception woven by Barry was growing stronger, threatening to ensnare her further in its intricate threads.