#like an unbearable desperate longing to just be friends again

[mummybear]

My Brother's Best Friend - Chapter 7 - The Mating

Words - 4034

Warnings: Swearing, Mating, Smut, P IN V, Oral (Female Receiving), Dirty Talk, Possessive Stiles, Protective Stiles, Marking, Biting, Think That's everything.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Reader/You/Sadie, Mentions Of Alan Deaton, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Mellissa McCall, Scott McCall.

A/N: Hey guys, Sorry about the wait, I'm still really struggling with writers block but I had a few productive days and managed to finish this chapter and start something new for Dean, so we're getting somewhere at least! Hope you're all good and enjoy this! :)

Please do not copy my work or anyone else's. I have had more than enough of that the past few years, please try writing for yourself. Thank you.

Chapter 7 - The Mating

There’s an amazing softness beneath you, when you slowly become aware of your surroundings. It also happens to be when a sudden desperate whimpering from beside you pulls you all of the way out of any remaining sleepiness. You keep your eyes shut, all too aware of the unbearable thumping in your head. However, when you feel someone brushing the hair from your forehead, you can’t help but lean into the familiar touch immediately. Moaning contentedly when those same fingers skim your bare shoulder, your eyes snap open though when your skin practically sizzles on contact. You very quickly realise you’re face to face with Stiles, and his eyes flare purple. 

Once you manage to centre yourself, you can feel the worry rolling off of him in waves, almost as if it were your own emotion, though you’re starting to find it a little easier to tell the difference between your own feelings and his.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse from sleep as you roll your body into his. 

Stiles remains silent as he reaches over to grab a bottle of water from the bedside table, almost like he’s trying to lean away from you. He doesn’t answer either, he merely responds to you in one worded grunt as he hands you the bottle. 

“Drink.” 

You roll your eyes but take the bottle from him, swigging a little of the liquid, all too aware of his eyes as they start to burn a hole into the side of your head.

“There, are you happy now? Bossy,” you snap a little annoyed with his attitude.

“Not yet. Eat,” he replies, softly but firmly with a sigh, handing you a sandwich before he runs his long fingers through his hair once again. 

Stiles helps you sit up and get as comfortable as you can, which is for some reason particularly difficult. Before finally leaving the room. You sigh to yourself as you start eating, settling back against the pillows, doing your best not to read too much into his actions or the silence that fills the moments. Clearly he’s worried, which you can understand, all things considered. So you try to rest while you eat. Though, you’re really hoping he won't be long in returning. 

You rest back against the pillow after placing the plate on the side. Grabbing the pillow from beside you, the one that Stiles had been using, so that you can hold it close and inhale his scent. 

You let out a needy whine as the need to have Stiles mate with you returns, like a burning wildfire, and you moan as your hips roll against nothing. Biting your lip hard as you breathe out a shuddering breath. Running your fingers through your hair while trying to get your breathing under control. 

You’d only ever experienced this extreme longing once before, earlier today, in Deaton’s office. 

Right before Stiles had to be physically ripped away from you and you were practically dry humping him in front of everyone. You stare at your closed door, fingers tightening in the sheets beneath you, as your breathing quickly becomes more rapid. Pulling off the duvet so that the cool air can soothe your naked body, you can feel the heat as it rolls away from you. Your chest heaves when you hear the floorboards creaking just outside your bedroom, your hearing like all of your other senses are on high alert. Your door creaks open and his scent hits you like a truck. You let out a shuddering breath as your legs drop open.

Stiles walks into the room unbuttoning his jeans as he makes a few long strides towards the bed, his eyes locked on your body.

“Do you need anything else?” Stiles questions you stiffly, as he tosses his t-shirt across the room.

“Just you, I’m so beyond ready for you.” You reply in a breathless moan, licking your lips as he pulls off his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely bare.

He fists his cock and pumps up and down a few times as he looks you over, a cocky smirk pulls at his lips, one you’d only seen on him a handful of times, as his eyes drop to look at your pussy, watching it drip just for him.

“Goddamn, that pussy is so fucking wet. You want this, baby girl?” he rasps, tugging at his cock as he kneels on the foot of the bed.

He crawls towards you on his hands and knees, and a shiver races up your spine.

“Is this really about to happen?” you whisper in awe as he stops between your spread legs. The awe of so many years waiting leaves you more than a little anxious, suddenly and your confidence slips slightly.

The smile that spreads across his lips is almost predatory, but you don’t mind being his prey, not even for a second.

“You bet your ass it is. About damn time too, if you ask me.” 

You grab his wrist as he reaches for your face and you look into his eyes, and he goes back to looking worried again.

“Stiles… Are you sure you want this? I know, we’ve talked about this a lot at this point. It’s just that I’ve known that I wanted you…and this, for years. You’ve only had a few days to decide, I don’t want you to wake up one day and resent me. This is forever… if we do this. I can’t stand the thought of you hating me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling vulnerable, you glance down at your hands now resting on his chest. You’re annoying yourself with your rambling, but you can’t have him coming to regret this one day.

“Sadie, look at me,” Stiles commands and it washes over you like a calming balm. Almost like he’s somehow controlling you with a gentle nudge of your chin, you lift your eyes to meet his eyes once more. He cups your cheek gently, “you won’t be able to understand this right now, but maybe one day you will, if you decide to become like me. This pull that I feel towards you isn’t completely sexual. Don’t get me wrong, there’s that part of me, a big part right now, that wants to claim you, possess you…” he growls out the last few words and you can’t help but smile when he shakes his head a little, like he’s clearing the fog. 

“Sorry,” he clears his throat, before continuing, “this will sound cheesy but you’re here,” he takes your hand and rests it over his heart. “I can feel you, it’s so deep rooted and pure, you centre me, you’re my other half. You make me feel more in control than I ever have.” 

“You’re cute when you ramble,” you can’t help but giggle as a tear slides down your cheek. You cup his cheeks, letting your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his head, you gently tug and he groans, letting his forehead drop down onto yours.

“Cute enough that you’re convinced?” he rasps against your lips, before he kisses away the tear.

You reach out and link his fingers with your own, letting them drop down either side of your head as you lay back, Stiles follows you, his forehead never leaving yours.

“Please, I’m ready,” you whisper against his lips.

“Whatever you want, my little Minx.” He rumbles, his voice like a caress in all of the right places. 

Right before his lips descend on yours, much more gently than you’d been expecting. Your fingers tighten their grip as Stiles lowers his body on top of yours, the feel of your skin pressed so tightly against his sends sparks across your skin. 

When he starts to nip at your collar bone you grip his body tightly. 

“No foreplay, Stiles. Please, I can’t wait anymore.” You whimper desperately clinging to his back, doing your utmost to pull him closer.

Stiles chuckles, softly brushing his fingers over your hip, “we can’t rush this too fast, at least let me make sure you’re ready for me.”

His tone is deep and husky, causing shivers to run over your entire body.

“Trust me, I’m ready.” You smirk at him as his lips brush the place his fingers have just left. You arch against the feeling.

“Hmm, let me check anyway. You can never be too sure,” he grins, forcefully tugging your legs over his shoulders, causing you to giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. 

He looks up at you and licks his lips, those chocolate brown eyes flashing purple for just a few seconds, before he dips his head and his tongue slowly laps at your clit. His fingers tighten on your thighs when you try to push into the feeling, desperate for more contact. You can’t hold in the whimper when he slides two fingers inside you, and his tongue starts to lap faster as he curls his fingers inside you.

Your muscles begin to clamp down around the intrusion as shivers race through your body. You give his hair a harsh tug, causing him to hiss against you, before a growl begins low in his throat. 

“Stiles, please!” You beg, continuing to claw desperately at anything you can reach as you feel the first flutters of your orgasm.

“Stay still, Mate.” Stiles growls his demand roughly, in a voice that no longer sounds like his own. He sucks on your clit a little harder and begins to scissor his fingers, before adding a third finger. You squeal at the tight fit, and throw your head back and grip the headboard behind you as you roll your hips against his onslaught. 

“Hold it. Don’t you dare come, little Minx. Save it for my cock.”

You squeeze your eyes shut tight and feel the blissful burn of your orgasm begin, right before Stiles pulls away completely. Your eyes snap open, anger burning through your veins until you watch him slip his fingers between his lips, sucking the taste of you from them as his other hand wraps around his thick cock and strokes it with firm tugs.

“Naughty girl,” he smirks, releasing himself and dropping so his body covers yours with his hands either side of your shoulders. You feel his cock nudging at your entrance and you whimper, arching your back, desperate for him to fill you and mark you as his. 

You bite your lip and nod at him as you hook a leg over his hip, and you both groan in unison when the bulbous head of his cock nudges at your entrance.

“Look at me,” he whispers softly as he gets down on his elbows and his lips graze yours.

Your mouth drops open and you suck in a deep breath, as the head of his cock is pushed inside of you, his thumb grazes your bottom lip and he licks his own lips as he pushes inside a little further.

“Oh god, Stiles,” you whine, throwing your head to the side and offering him the side of your neck.

“Mmmm, such a good girl. Your pussy is so fucking tight, fits like a glove, baby girl.” He withdraws almost all of the way, before slowly pushing forward and filling you a little more than the first time. You can hardly breathe, lost in a state of ecstasy, as his lips brush soft kisses along your neck. He licks over the place he wants to mark you several times, and you feel his rumble of pleasure before you hear it.

The pain is ebbing away and you're starting to feel more pleasure than you thought was possible, you hook your other leg over Stiles’ other hip and dig your heels into his firm ass. Stiles practically snarls as he snaps his hips forward fully filling you, before you can comprehend what’s happened an orgasm rips through you, one so powerful you almost don't feel his fangs and teeth as they sink into your neck as a possessive rumble fills the room. You don’t realise you’ve screamed until you hear banging at your bedroom door.

Stiles gently pulls away, seemingly uncaring of the shouting at the door as he laps at the mark on your neck, practically purring like a kitten as his hips begin moving, with long and deep thrusts. 

“Fuck off!” You half shout, half moan. 

Your fingers sink into the skin of his back as he bares his neck to you. You don’t even know if it will work if you mark him as human, but when you look at his skin you could swear you see the perfect place to bite him, almost as if it’s calling to you. 

Stiles moans as you lap at the skin, inhaling deeply before you sink your own teeth into his neck, groaning at the taste. You feel him shudder above you as he releases inside you. Before his knot latches inside you tightly, locking him with you for the next few minutes at least. You smile to yourself as you lick at the mark you’ve left behind briefly, hearing the contented noises of your mate. Stiles pulls the sheets over your bodies as he curls protectively around you.

“Mine. My Mate.” 

You giggle as he squeezes you tightly and nuzzles your mark once more, kissing it softly, before he buries his face in your hair and slips a leg between yours. Almost as if he needs as much skin touching as possible. He wraps his arms around you and you sigh as the rightness of the situation settles over you. Snuggling back against his chest, you can feel his pride at being your Mate and you can’t help but grin.

“Thank you for waiting for me, I’m sorry I took so long, Minx,” he whispers almost sadly.

“I would’ve waited forever for you, Stiles Stilinski,” you reply just as quietly, wrapping your arms around the arm you can reach. 

“Now sleep,” you rasp feeling the tiredness already catching up with you.

Next Morning

You wake with a start, a moan tearing from your lips as Stiles laps at your clit, before he sucks it between his lips with a rumbling moan. You let out a squeak when your door starts to slowly open, feeling Stiles chuckling against you, but he refuses to move no matter how much you push at his head. In fact, he makes matters worse by gripping your thighs tightly and pushing them wide. You bite your lip hard when he doubles his efforts, and Liam comes into view. 

Suddenly Stiles moves, his body so quick to cover yours and he glares at the man currently in the doorway.

“Mine. Don’t look at her. Get the fuck out, now.” He snarls in a voice similar to the one he used on you yesterday, it almost reminded you of an Alpha voice, but surely that couldn’t be right. 

Liam flinches, but you had to give him his due, he held his ground and instead of leaving he dropped his eyes to look at your floor. 

“Stiles, stop it. He knows who I belong to, baby. Breathe,” you murmur calmingly, carefully stroking his cheek, as he moves his eyes to yours and leans into your touch. He huffs and moves just slightly to rest his head against your chest.

You can’t help but whimper when his cock nudges at your entrance, “what do you want, Liam?” you ask shakily, since you're sure whatever reason he’s in here must be important. From what you understood, mated couples shouldn’t be disturbed for the first few days of mating. 

Liam seems to swallow hard, “Scott was worried after yesterday, he wanted me to check if you two needed food or anything? Especially with how bad Sadie was yesterday.” He practically whispers, seemingly only addressing Stiles.

‘Is this fucker trying to say I can’t look after my mate.’ 

“Nobody is saying that, Stiles,” you sigh, softly running your fingers through his hair.

Stiles suddenly sits up, still covering you but he stares at you shocked, and by the look on Liam's face something strange had just happened, something that you’d clearly missed. Maybe it was a werewolf thing.

“Thanks Liam, we’ll be out in a minute,” Stiles whispers brokenly as he continues to stare at you in awe.

Liam leaves, and Stiles is beginning to make you nervous as you watch each other silently.

‘Can you hear me?’ Stiles asks and you gasp in shock, because although you hear his voice as clear as day his mouth didn’t move. 

“What’s happening?” you ask, suddenly extremely worried. 

“I didn’t say any of that outloud, Baby. Deaton did say this was possible. He told me, right after you passed out, but he also said it would only happen after you became like me. We have a mindlink baby, you can hear what I’m thinking and I can hear you.” 

“Wait, what? That’s a thing?” you question in confusion, considering you’d never heard your brother speak of such things before.

“It’s extremely rare. Usually it’s unheard of, I guess my mystical ass got a few extra perks,” he grins at you wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You giggle then suddenly you wonder ‘can he hear you?’

“Oh I can hear you, dirty girl. Want me to finish what I started?” he growls as his cock is pushed slowly back inside you.

You cry out in pleasure when he begins to thrust hard and fast, as if from nowhere and without any warning your body reacts instantly. You shiver as your body quickly heats at the sudden invasion, but he moves his fingers to your clit and begins circling the small tight bundle of nerves in firm circles, in time with his movements.

Stiles groans when you suddenly stop him, with a gentle hand on his chest, he’s reluctant to stop but he rolls onto his back. Especially once he realises what’s happening. He quickly helps you sit up, managing to keep his cock still buried deep inside you, so that you can’t help but whimper at how he’s somehow so much deeper at this angle. His eyes lock on yours as you get comfortable, and the connection between you sizzles like a live wire.

“Take it slow, Baby, you’re so fucking hot and I’m so damn deep, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You worry too much, Stiles, we were made for each other. I can more than handle you,” you moan out as you rest your hands on his chest and give an experimental roll of your hips, letting your nails dig into his skin, enjoying the way his grip tightens on you. Feeling a mix of pleasure and pain smash into you as you angle your hips just right. Arching your back as you continue to move, you try to push through it, keeping your eyes locked on Stiles’.

“Fuck you’re sexy, so damn beautiful.”

Your pussy starts to flutter and clamp down tightly around him at his words, “good girl, right there,” Stiles groans, his eyes locked on yours. You bite your lip and keep up your pace, feeling as though your body has a mind of its own as you chase your orgasm. Stiles grips your ass roughly with his long fingers, as he slams his hips up to meet yours and you still can’t quite believe how deep he is.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is intoxicating, as Stiles sits up wrapping your hair around his fist, tugging until your back arches and your breasts push out. He quickly latches onto one of your nipples and gives a firm suck, softly dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh when you let out another loud cry of pleasure. Your orgasm is so close, that when he pulls away from your breast and presses his face in your neck and drags his nose over your claiming mark you violently shiver.

You rake your nails over his chest as he bites into your newly marked skin, lapping at it forcefully, causing your pussy to clench around him and more slick to run down his length. He pulls back to watch as both of your breathing increases, “My Alpha, please, gonna come,” you all but squeak, watching him closely as his eyes glow purple.

‘Mmm, I can feel it,’ he purrs inside your head, before you know what's happened he flips you both, so you're trapped beneath him. Getting up on his knees, he grips your thighs and pushes your legs back against your body. Forcing himself so much deeper than before, you practically scream as an orgasm rips through your body, Stiles’ fingers dig into your skin as your eyes fly open to lock onto his once more, feeling as his knot begins to catch inside you.

‘Your eyes are purple’ Stiles states with so much emotion, you feel tears begin to form in your eyes and you don’t know why.

Stiles lets out a growl as he finally knots you and you feel his warmth push inside you, he carefully releases your legs and you let them drop to the bed as Stiles’ body covers yours. Your chests heave against one another as he lays in your arms.

“Once we catch our breaths we should probably go down and speak to everyone, at least for a little while,” you whisper regretfully, hearing him let out a huff of annoyance. 

“Fine. Although, just to be clear I would love nothing more than chaining you to this bed and fucking you all day,” he rasps, kissing your sensitive flesh of your mark.

“Trust me, I would let you. But we need to make sure everything is okay. I don’t think they would interrupt just because Scott was concerned I hadn’t eaten,” you whisper running your fingers through his hair softly.

“You’re probably right, but please stay close, Minx. I don’t know how I’ll react to unmated males being near you at the minute, but I could guess.”

You carefully push his head up, so his eyes meet yours once again, “just try and remember, I’m wearing your mark, though even if I wasn’t, I have no interest in anyone who isn’t you.” You promise gently cupping his cheek. Stiles softly kisses your lips as he slowly pulls out, and you can’t help but let out a noise between a gasp and a whimper at the feeling.

“Sore?” he asks softly, you can hear the concern, but you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up because he sounds very pleased with himself right now.

He sits up carefully with a shit eating grin plastered to his face, “shut up,” you laugh finally sitting up yourself. You take his undershirt which he hands you, before you pull on a fresh pair of painties and some loose fitting pants.

Stiles tosses on his plaid shirt and pulls up his underwear and jeans, tugging you to his side before you can leave, he wraps his hand around yours. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then you leave the safety of your room, doing your best not to wince with every step. When you come to the bottom step your mother and Scott are just walking inside, before you can go to hug them, Stiles pulls you back to him as Liam stands to help them with the groceries. 

You turn to look at him, finding those purple eyes glaring at everyone who isn’t a family member, “Stop it. You know I’m safe here.”

Stiles snaps his eyes to yours and shakes his head, and you can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you.

“It’s not them. None of them. Someone’s close, someone who doesn’t belong.” 

Everything happens so fast, Stiles locks eyes with Scott and sure enough you watch as your brother’s eyes begin to glow that deep red.

Stiles moves to stand by Scott, handing you off to Lydia and Allison. Liam steps in front of you as your mother stands beside you all.

“Stay here,” Scott and Stiles whisper in unison, moving as one to head out the front door.

Tags: @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @lilulo-12 @charmed-asylum @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @akshi8278 @peaches007 @stylesismyhubs @peachyyybabyy @fantasy-myth1 @death-unbecomes-you @coffeebooksandfandom @magssteenkamp @screamxqueenx94 @brien-odylan @riseandshinelittleblossom @ceceliaking-18 @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @missindecision @deans-number-one-fan @onethirstyunicorn @flintthegoodboyo @ilovewriting06 @sexualtensiongrowing @you-dont-know-me-got-it

[jujuubee]

Sometimes I see things or rmemeber something randomnly and I get this overwhelming urge to reach out to you…tell you how much I miss you, ask what’s been going on in your life, send you fucked up shit like I used to. But it’s just not my place to be your friend anymore. i respect the fact you don’t want me aroudn anymore and so I’m just waiting, I guess for forever until you one day decide that this is stupid. Bc what else am I gonna do lmfao. It’s incredibly painful to lose someone that was so foundational to who you are as a person. So much of the good in me came from you, bc you taught me how to be a normal person. & now it’s like, the last 10 years I just compare everyone to you. But no one can ever meet that standard bc I have you on such a fucking pedestal. You’re the only person I’ve never hated, disliked, been disgusted by. & that’s why it hurts even more lmfao. I would’ve never done this to you. Prob anyone else but not you. & I don’t get how you can do it so easily. And even still I don’t hate you or dislike you I just understand. It hurts my feelings but I understand. I’m always hoping that one day you’ll wake up and want to fix things. Life is just very empty without your presence & even tho I fucjed up I know you feel the same. Never thought we’d be here, only getting updates about each other through the grapevine. Even the happy birthday text was just a fucjing hollow considering every year you were in LA we FaceTimed on our birthdays for fucjing 8 hours. So what does a text even mean compared to that. But I’m happy I even got one bc I don’t deserve even that. It’s crazy to be torn between validating that I never deserve to talk to you again & also feeling that I can be forgiven & we can work on this bc that’s what real friends do. We’re not even friends we’re fucming family like. There’s so much I have to tell you, from my own mouth, not mutual friends we’re missing out on so much of each others lives, big fucking moments & like what’s the point of it. Why is it so difficult to just confront the problem. That’s the worst fuckign thing about you, you’d rather run away & pretend shit doesn’t exist rather than dealing w it. And I get it, but for something so major like…man up. You always made me man tf up so why can’t you. In 2 fucming years you still haven’t figured out what to say? Like come on…I don’t know if I’ll ever lead a complete & fulfilling life if you’re not there, idk if I can go another fucking year like this. It feels like I’m stuck. All my progress in life, emotionally, mentally, interpersonally, I’m just fucjing stuck until you come back. Bc it’s like nothing else is as important as this. I can’t be a normal fucjing perosn and have normal attachments and do normal fucjing shit w my life until we fix this. I’m always gonna be hung up on the fact I ruined the most important relationship I’ll ever have. Always hung up on the fact that the one person that ever knew me & would never leave me did anyway. So how can I even try to let anyone else know me? How can I even try and fucking fix the shit in my brain lmfao. And no one gets it. No one understands why I have to talk about it so much and why I still cry about it every fucking day & everkne is so fucming tired of dealing w me & it’s so funny bc they don’t even know what I’m actually like LMFAO not like yoh do so it jsut further validates that I’m a horrible unloveable perosn by anyone but you and if even you got tired of me like what now LMFAO

[sweetnans]

Chaotic fem. reader/Best friend Bakugo

"I'm ready to be a mother," you stated out of nothing.

Bakugo was obviously taken back by your comment.

"Did you see something on tiktok that made you think that?" he looked at you while you kept scrolling in your phone. "You need a partner to procreate dumbass,"

"I know I need a man to procreate, but I thought that you could help me on that one," you bit your nails, showing less interest than a rock.

He left his phone aside so he could analyze you properly if you were talking seriously or not.

"I'm not going to introduce you to my side kick, He's like twenty," he tested.

"Twenty??? I'm almost twenty eight, that's still a reasonable age gap, " you gasped because his side kick didn't look like he was twenty. You thought that he would at least be twenty-three.

"No it's not"

After almost ten years of being friends, Bakugo was so used to your shit. The time that you wanted to go surfing? He laughed at your face when you didn't make it to the ocean because you were afraid of sharks. What about the time when you wanted a hamster? He said no, but you got it anyway, so when you lost it, obviously, he gave you shit about it, but after that, he was on all four looking for your little pet in the dorms.

"Fine." That wasn't your main goal, so you let it go. "Actually, I was thinking of you doing a quick hand job in my bathroom and giving me your sperm"

The silence between the two of you couldn't be more unbearable. Bakugo's eyes twisted in your direction while his cheeks were slowly growing a clear shade of rose.

"What? No!"

He was absolutely losing it. The impact of your sayings got him standing from his seat, almost panting. You and him? In his best dreams, but you didn't need to know about his secret intentions.

"Think about it. It's a great idea." You stepped out of your couch and went to his side.

"How are you going to explain that your kid has similar features with your best friend?" he flinched when you approached him. You were so close that your scent invaded him whole.

Bakugo was trying with all his heart and mind to think logically, but you, your body next to him, and your puppy eyes were making it so hard, in both ways.

"I don't know, and I don't care, I'll run away from the country, and you'll never see us again"

You were one of the best students from UA, right after him and Yaoyorozu, but right now, he was doubting if it was just an act.

"That's so clever." he rolled his eyes at you and walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, hoping that you would drop the subject and hop onto another like getting a bunny or going sky diving.

"I know, right? Now go in there, do the nasty job, and I'll put it inside of me, I'll even turn my body upside down so it sticks, " you jolted in joy, missing his usual sarcasm.

He almost spilled the water from his mouth to your face.

"Who the fuck told you that?" he spated obnoxiously.

"Kaminari," you shrugged.

"Are you even listening to yourself!?"

When he thought that that couldn't get any worse, you named the only person who could make him go crazy just by opening his mouth.

"I'm desperate. It made sense when he told me"

He could believe anything at this point. He was actually thinking that he was dead because what was happening between you two was a complete nonsense.

"So you are telling me this is something you've had in mind for a while?

You simply nodded, and he stayed quiet, considering everything you said. He wasn't looking for anything serious because of you. He passed for all seven stages of grief when he realized that he was in love with you and your silliness, so he decided long ago that he wouldn't date anyone because he wasn't interested in anyone but you.

"I know that look on your face," you smiled and danced around the kitchen.

You weren't looking for anyone either. Having Bakugo as a male figure in your life left the bar very high for others to match. They didn't meet your expectations anymore like Bakugo did, always by your side, laughing at your bad jokes and giving you his hand when you most needed, buying food and cooking for you, he has even bought you flowers for half a decade on valentine's day, a large bouquet of red roses every year since then.

"I'll do it," he told you, and you jumped excited on him. He grabbed you by your thighs, catching you on the fly. "Two conditions"

"Yeah, just name it," you batted your eyes at him.

"I'll take you on a proper date first, and you won't run away with my kid, got it?"

Bakugo thought that he was only doing you a favor, but he never saw coming that it only took one date to make you fall for him in the way he always wanted.

[woahjo]

APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist 

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 

"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

"I'm not fucking around," he says. 

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 

You trail off a little. 

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.” 

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 

You shrug and give him a coy smile. 

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[agustdtown1]

FREE USE | JJK (hcs)

PAIRING: roommate!jungkook x roommate!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: headcanons of what it’d be like to let jungkook use you as much as he pleased.

WC: 1.2k

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, free use dynamics, friends/roommates with benefits, unprotected sex, masturbation, mentions of oral sex (male receiving), fucking while doing mundane things, reader and jungkook are very laid back in this one. Grammar mistakes as per usual.

A/N: idk where I was going with this, but I liked the idea so here it is, enjoy!

Masterlist

Your arrangement started as a simple roommates with benefits type of thing.

It sort of naturally happened.

After a long day of working at your nine to five job and Jungkook dealing with some unnecessary family drama, both of you were at your limit.

You two were in need of some good release.

At the time, alcohol looked like the better option. The best remedy for your miserable day; perfect to leave behind all your concerns and numb your mind for a few hours, until you wake up the next day with an unbearable headache.

Neither of you anticipated that what started as a peaceful drinking session, would end up with both of you fucking desperately to the point of almost breaking the sofa.

After Jungkook finally got a taste of you, however, it became an impossible task to keep his distance with you; despite both of you agreeing to that night being just a one-time thing, and never doing anything like that again.

And so his long nights of jacking off to the thought of you started.

Jungkook would make sure that you were peacefully sleeping before pulling his sweats down, slightly teasing himself by feeling his cock through his underwear.

It was so painfully hard and already leaking.

When his own teasing was too much to bear, Jungkook would pull down the last piece of clothing preventing him from feeling his fingers wrapped around his cock.

He’d start at a slow pace, taking his sweet time to build up his release. He knew the best way to tip himself over the edge, but it seemed like after your one night together nothing could make him cum. His avid fingers weren’t so avid on himself anymore. It didn’t give him the same sentiment that you did. His hand was significantly bigger than yours, on top of being rough and calloused due to all the weightlifting he did on the daily.

Jungkook could notice the stark contrast between you and himself.

He remembers so vividly the way your fingers wrapped around his base, squeezing lightly, before you started to pump his dick at a painfully slow pace. He didn’t mind at the time, but in the darkness and loneliness of his room, Jungkook could only beg for his hand to go faster. However, it wasn’t enough. And that’s how the mental image —the memory of your soft lips kissing his tip came to the very front of his mind. It was hard to forget it; the way your tongue wrapped around his dick, the way you swallowed all of him in one go, just to show him that he could be rougher with you, that it was okay for Jungkook to lose all his self control and fuck your throat only like he knew.

Sadly, those nights filled with the most filthy sounds and moans had to stay a secret for a few more weeks.

Before the unthinkable happened.

Truth be told, you were just as needy of Jungkook as he was of you. And maybe that’s the reason you didn’t think too much before suggesting that crazy idea to him.

“So… Friends with benefits?” His question sounded a bit unsure. “Well, should I say roommates with benefits?” You nodded, agreeing while taking a sip of your coffee. “Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it. I don’t really care about the name, as long as we’re both on the same page and understand what all of this actually is.”

It was so pathetic how fast Jungkook wanted to agree and say yes to whatever deal you had for him, as long as that meant he could have you all the time he wanted.

And so, it became a recurrent occurrence to be found in the sheets of the one and only Jeon Jungkook whenever life became too stressful.

Surprisingly, the guy learned to read your body in a matter of a few days. His rough hands knew what path to follow; how soft or hard the touch of his fingers had to be to get the exact reaction he needed from you. His warm lips always found that perfect spot on your neck that would steal the sweetest of sounds from your mouth. And his dick would always move just the right way to make you see starts.

But no matter how much of your body you would give to Jungkook during the hardest of days, he would always crave more.

And that’s exactly how you found yourself in the current predicament you were in.

Your hands were acting clumsy due to Jungkook’s hard thrusts. The pencil placed in between your fingers was shaking so badly, and your handwriting was so illegible that not even someone with their 20-20 vision could understand what you wrote.

“Slow down a bit, it’s difficult to write while getting fucked.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

His pace was turned down a few notches, but it only served to feel him inside you ten times deeper.

You see, your initial arrangement got to the point of fucking at any moment, anywhere, any day. No matter what either of you were doing, if it was important or not, if you had time or were in a hurry; if your bodies were ready for it or got taken by surprise. It became normal for the both of you to use each other at any given moment.

Just like right now, you could be having a peaceful moment studying, cooking or even watching a movie and Jungkook would simply slide down whatever clothes you were wearing and slip inside, enjoying the warmth of your velvety walls.

You got so used to it that you no longer were surprised by his sudden actions. And just like you did, Jungkook also got used to your impromptu appearance in his room when he was playing video games with his friends, watching a movie, or even just listening to music.

There was one time when he was on the phone with his brother and you easily walked in his room, pulled down his pants and started to suck the life out of him. Surprisingly, Jungkook did good in suppressing his moans while speaking to his brother.

There were other times when he would be reading a manga on the couch, and without previous warning you would get on top of him and ride his cock as if it was your last wish. Even maintaining a conversation while fucking was the usual for you both.

“What are you reading?” Your airy voice rang through Jungkook’s ears, making him look up from the manga placed on his hands, before continuing reading. “Jujutsu Kaisen, the one I told you about the other day.”

“Is it the one with that Gojo guy?” Your movements got messier and faster, desperately trying to reach your high. “Is it— fuck, is it any good?”

“Mhm, it became one of my favorites.” He answered, but even if Jungkook tried to keep his voice steady you could tell he was getting there. “You should read it. I have a feeling you’d— fuck, just like that... I have a feeling you’d like it.” You nodded, not really finding your voice to answer due to your rapidly approaching orgasm. It was a matter of a few more thrusts before you were coming undone on top of him.

At any moment, any minute, any day and most importantly anywhere. That’s how it would usually go for you two.

Both of you fell into the routine so easily and neither were ready to let go of it anytime soon.

[benjinotes]

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - cregan stark

cregan stark x fem reader

summary: to grab your attention, cregan keeps parking his car in your spot. as you deal with his frustrating habit, you both end up clashing and forming a connection you didn’t see coming.

warnings: smut. sub cregan. oral (f receiving). pnv (mentions). breaking celibacy. reader doesn’t have too much patience. cregan likes to test her. fluff. modern au.

wc: +6k (sorry lol), english is not my first language.

The morning sun spread across the horizon, casting a golden glow that gradually enveloped the parking lot where Cregan sat in his Jeep. The light crept across the dashboard and lazily kissed his chiseled features and stubbly beard as he took slow, steady drags from his morning cigarette, the smoke rising in spirals and mingling with the annoyingly warm air filtering through the half-open window.

It was the end of summer, and although the weather had cooled slightly from the peak in July, the heat still lingered, a constant reminder of how much he disapproved of high temperatures and everything they brought. He had a nearly visceral aversion to them—during the summer, clothes would cling uncomfortably to his body, and the constant sweat seemed to eat away at him from within, leaving him restless. Even so, he couldn’t complain too much; autumn was just around the corner, bringing the cold he longed for and the continuation of the new semester.

Truth be told, he wasn't looking forward to going back to college. Far from it, actually. While summer wasn't his favorite season, he appreciated the solitude it offered—the freedom of late-night adventures, the revelry of parties, and the blissful absence of anxiety from procrastination. Yet, as much as he valued these fleeting comforts, they paled in comparison to the almost biting chill of fall and the deep anticipation of seeing you again.

The intense heat of sun seemed to mirror the depth of his desire for you. Just as the relentless sun made each day increasingly stifling and uncomfortable, his longing for you burned with equal intensity. The oppressive warmth was almost a reminder of the consuming passion within him, reflecting his growing sense of desperation and need.

Cregan didn't know how long he had longed for you, for he barely noticed when the desire he felt for you turned into something so deep and intense that it seemed to consume his veins with infernal heat, heating his body to levels that even the incessant heat of the sun could not do. summer could explain. He felt almost suffocated even though he was trapped against his will, but without knowing whether he should give in to frustration or despair with the anxiety he felt.

The last three months without you had been difficult, if not unbearable, for him. It was as if you had vanished from the world, and that left him on the brink of despair. Each day that passed without any word from you widened the hole in his chest a little more, and the fact that you ignored all 20 friend requests he sent you on social media only made things worse.

Being near you, no matter how torturous it could be at times, was a confinement he chose willingly. But being away from you? That was a true prison for him, an unrelenting agony that nearly consumed him from within.

One thing was certain: if it hadn’t been for Jacaerys, his best friend, he probably would have done something reckless and gone after you just to make sure you were okay. It was Jacaerys who held him back and allowed him to see your social media through his account, and although he was upset that you wouldn’t let him follow you, there was a strange comfort in knowing that his best friend did. However, this only made things worse. He was becoming fully aware of just how down bad he was for you—and that was, at the very least, humiliating.

It was humiliating—everything Cregan was doing at this point, and he knew it. His friends knew, and everyone around him knew. After all, he had been on celibate for months simply because he couldn’t imagine being with any woman other than you, even though you seemed more inclined to kick him in the balls than anything else.

And now, he was resorting to the same tactic he used months ago: parking in your spot just to provoke you into getting angry with him before class. Sometimes, he honestly felt that his fixation had reached a point of no return.

Taking the last drag from his cigarette, Cregan leaned further into the front seat of his Jeep, turned on the air conditioning slightly, and closed his eyes, waiting for you to arrive and complain so he could finally escape the sun. Fortunately for Cregan, less than five minutes later, he was startled by a light but furious knock on the Jeep's window. He had to hold back a smile as he saw your irritated expression outside.You looked so hot and so damn pretty.

"Hello, dear," he began, placing both hands behind his head as he looked at you with a smirk, trying to mask the rapid beating of his heart. "Is something wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What the hell are you doing in my car spot?!" You nearly shouted, your cheeks growing redder with anger at his persistence. Cregan, however, didn’t seem at all bothered; if anything, his smile widened with every increase in your voice.

"I thought you’d matured over the summer break," you said through gritted teeth, glancing around at the people who were starting to stare. Despite your frustration, Cregan appeared more amused, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you even further.

"First of all, this parking lot is public," he said with a teasing hum, his smirk growing as he slowly opened the window, clearly enjoying your irritated and impatient expression. "Secondly, did you really think I’d matured over these months?" His voice carried a hint of hidden amusement, though you didn’t seem to notice. You let out a deep sigh, trying to mask your frustration.

If you were being honest, no, you didn’t think he had matured. He had always been a bit much since the day you met him—constantly praising you almost directly or irritating you on purpose just to get a reaction. It didn’t help that he kept sending friend requests, which you declined every time, or that Jace was always one of the first to see your posts after Cregan made it clear you two were together.

The truth was, you didn’t think he’d changed at all. If anything, based on the look he was giving you, he was probably the same or even worse. And you weren't sure how much longer you could tolerate him irritating you like this.

"I literally paid for this spot, Cregan!" you hissed in a hushed whisper, trying not to attract even more attention. But you had to look away when you felt his intense gaze on you—the fact that he was so handsome didn’t help at all. "And besides, you don’t even have classes on this campus, so what’s your excuse for being here?" you demanded, already irritated, as you pressed your hand to your forehead a bit too aggressively.

Cregan’s smile widened as he noticed the frustration in your eyes and how you avoided his gaze. He knew you found him attractive—he had overheard you admitting it to a friend a few months ago, and the memory filled him with smug satisfaction. While he was used to attention from other girls, knowing that you, the one person who truly mattered to him, found him appealing was different. You were the only woman he cared about and the only one he wanted to touch.

You drove him insane. It wasn’t just an obsession anymore; it was a madness that consumed him completely. Every thought and every impulse he had was dominated by you, and the distance you kept between the two of you was unbearable. You were a constant in his mind, a presence that refused to let his sanity remain intact. But either way, he liked that, he loved that.

"I just wanted to say hello, dear," Cregan said after a few seconds, blinking with exaggerated fake innocence, his voice almost a teasing melody as he leaned closer to the car window, trying to get as close to you as possible. "I missed you." He continued to hum playfully, but there was something in the way he said it that made you almost certain there was a hint of truth behind the teasing.

Even though you tried to stay composed, you couldn’t stand how easily he got under your skin. A few words from him were enough to make your heart race, and his effortless charm was maddening. Despite your resistance, you couldn’t deny the strange attraction you felt toward him or how annoyingly handsome he was—even with his scruffy beard. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape his pull. You felt trapped.

"Well, you can say hello from anywhere but my parking spot," you retorted, striving for firmness even though your voice wavered slightly. "So move your Jeep, or I’ll call a tow truck." You took a few steps back, increasing the distance between you, which seemed to disappoint him slightly.

Despite that Cregan’s smile lingered, though now it was tempered with a hint of reluctance. He made no move to move his Jeep; his gaze fixed intently on you as he furrowed his brow, as if evaluating his next move.

"Are you really going to call a tow truck?" he finally asked, his voice carrying the same playful tone. He leaned slightly out of the open window, his heart racing, when he noticed you glancing at his lips for a fleeting moment. He had to work hard to suppress a more genuine smile that threatened to surface.

To you, it was evident that he was deliberately prolonging the situation. The tension between you was palpable, and it was clear that he was savoring the game he was playing with you. Plus the fact his smile widened slightly as he observed you struggling not to look at his lips, made you almost sick. "Come on," he continued, his tone taking on an almost earnest edge as he noticed your hesitation to respond. "Is all this stress really worth it? I’m just trying to say hello." And to stay close to you, he almost said.

"You really haven’t changed, have you?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice as you tightened your grip on your car keys. "I thought you might have matured this semester." Your sharp eyes locked with his playful ones, daring him to defy your words.

Cregan blinked, and his smile grew wider in a flash. "Does that mean you’ve been thinking about me, dear?" He purred, barely containing his amusement as he watched a blush creep up your neck. The idea seemed to delight him, adding an unexpected warmth to his expression.

You opened and closed your mouth, stunned by the audacity of his question. He wasn’t completely off the mark; you had, indeed, thought about him. But admitting that to Cregan was unthinkable. You knew he’d never let it go, relishing every moment of your discomfort. It was as if he shed all pretense of maturity around you, or perhaps he felt most himself when he was with you. Either way, one thing was clear: you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of an admission.

Swallowing hard, you gave a dry cough, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you tightened your grip on the keys in your hand, determined to resist the lazy, piercing gaze that seemed to follow your every move. "Don’t flatter yourself," you shot back, striving for indifference despite his penetrating stare. "I have better things to think about than you."

Cregan’s smile didn’t falter at your bold, if slightly unsteady, retort. If anything, it widened as he leaned further out of the window, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Better things? Then why do you look so flustered? " he asked, feigning innocence, though his gaze was anything but that. Three months ago, he would have flirted and walked away, but your absence had only drawn him closer, and now, the idea of being with another woman, if it wasn’t you, repulsed him. 

"I’m not flustered," you lied, clenching your jaw, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. He had to fight the urge to glance at your neck, where the blush was deepening. "I’m just tired of these childish games." You rubbed your forehead in frustration, glaring at him with renewed irritation. 

His expression softened slightly at your tone, but the lazy, teasing smirk on his lips remained. "Childish? Maybe. But you’re still giving me attention, aren’t you?" he teased. 

If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was attempting your patience.

You opened your mouth to protest but found yourself at a loss for words. He wasn’t wrong—you were engaging with his provocations, letting him drag you into this ridiculous game and burrow even deeper under your skin. The fact that he was lingering in your parking spot longer than usual unsettled you, but what bothered you more was that part of you was enjoying it. You were furious at yourself for letting his teasing get to you.

There was something about Cregan that made it impossible for you to walk away, even though you knew you should for your own peace of mind.

"You’re impossible," you finally muttered after a few seconds, struggling to find the right words and shaking your head as if to clear it. "Just move your jeep, Cregan. I don’t have time for this," you insisted, loosening your grip on your car keys.

But he still didn’t move, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat—though you didn’t realize his heart was racing just as fast. "You know," he said softly, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. "I’m not just here to annoy you. I actually wanted to see you" He admitted it quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone else in the parking lot to hear it.

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily at a loss for words. This was a side of him you weren’t used to—a vulnerability typically masked by layers of sarcasm and provocation. And now, that facade was replaced by softness and even a hint of submission, making you hesitate for just a moment.

But then you remembered the situation you were in and how he always seemed to know exactly how to provoke you in the most infuriating way. It steeled you against the pull he had over you. “Well, now you’ve seen me," you replied, your voice firmer than before, though a blush still lingered on your cheeks. "So either move the car, or I’ll have it moved." You threatened, causing Cregan to sigh dramatically as he finally started up his old Jeep, his gaze softer than it had been before.

Without further excuses, Cregan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, stubbing out his cigarette in the small car ashtray before shifting the Jeep into gear. The engine roared to life as he began to back out of the spot slowly, each movement deliberate, as if he were savoring the final moments of this intense interaction. He kept his eyes on you nearly the entire time, watching for your reaction.

As the Jeep was coming out of the spot, Cregan, with the window already down, leaned out a bit further. "You know," he said, his voice now softer but still playful. "I really appreciate how you keep me on my toes. It makes life a bit more interesting." He teased with his smooth but soft voice, which carried a hint of truth in its tone.

You crossed your arms, attempting to maintain a stern expression, though your irritation waned as you caught sight of his clear eyes. The flush on your cheeks reminded you of how easily he could affect you. "I’m glad I can provide you with some entertainment,” you said sarcastically, your tone less sharp despite the rapid beating of your heart and the previous irritation. "But I have a class to get to."

Cregan nodded, his less playful smile giving way to a more sincere expression. "Alright, alright," he said, his heart racing as he noticed how your t-shirt hugged your waist. "I’ll be on my way. Try not to think too much about me." He offered another small smile, the playful tone now replaced with a softer one.

Raising an eyebrow, you kept your gaze fixed on him, trying to suppress a blush as you noticed how his arm muscles had grown over the summer. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, before turning back to your car, feeling a touch of satisfaction as you sensed his eyes lingering on you, almost burning a hole through your back.

Cregan cast one last glance at you as he pulled away in his Jeep, his heart still pounding. He bit his lip, recalling your expression and the way he caught you looking at his lips. For a moment, he had forgotten the heat of the day, perhaps because being near you made him feel at ease. But as he drove toward his campus away from you, a feeling of unease began to creep in.

When he arrived at campus, he found the main parking lot completely full. Frustrated, he turned to park the Jeep in a more distant spot near the campus convenience store, muttering small curses under his breath as he maneuvered.

As Cregan stepped out of the car, he noticed Jace emerging from the small store with a carton of chocolate milk in hand. Catching Cregan’s gaze, the shorter guy waved and walked over with a smile. "Hey, Cregan." Jace said as he joined him. "Why’d you park so far away?" he asked lazily, taking a long sip of his drink.

Cregan forced a smile, trying to appear carefree as he hid his sweaty hands behind his back. It was clear, though, that he was still preoccupied with the conversation he’d just had with you. "You know," he replied vaguely, shrugging as he walked alongside his friend, attempting to mask his thoughts.

Jacaerys eyed his friend closely. "You went to bother that poor girl again, didn’t you?" He asked, his knowing expression making it obvious he already knew the answer.

That question prompted a wry smile from Cregan. "You always know everything, don’t you?" he remarked, attempting to keep his tone relaxed. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the way your lips had twisted in annoyance as you grumbled at him.

Shaking his head, Jace chuckled softly, briefly coughing when he nearly choked on his chocolate milk. "Well, it’s my job," he said sarcastically. When Cregan didn’t respond, he cleared his throat and continued, "Baela told me your girl is going to the house party on Friday."

Hearing this, Cregan’s interest was immediately piqued, and he looked sharply at his friend. Yet he couldn’t ignore the confusion stirred by Jace’s tone. "And what’s your point?" he asked, his curiosity showing as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket.

"Well," Jace began thoughtfully, though Cregan suspected he already knew the advice he was about to give. "If you really want a chance with her, maybe it’s better to give her some space until the party. That way, you can approach her in a more relaxed way and, you know…" Jace trailed off, letting his words hang. Cregan raised an eyebrow. "Be less… you," Jace finally said. The taller man shrugged, mulling over the advice as it began to make sense.

Jacaerys was almost certain he could see the gears turning in his friend’s head.

He was almost certain that meeting in that environment could help forge a connection between the two of you, and he was willing to take the risk. "I’ll take your advice and see how things go at the party," Cregan said, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he followed his best friend into the campus building.

─────── ─────── ───────

Friday had arrived, and the party was in full swing. The old, two-story house near campus was packed with students eager to unwind after the first week of college. Music boomed, vibrating through the walls, and the scent of cheap beer mixed with sweat and perfume. Laughter and shouts echoed through the crowded hallways, where people were so tightly packed it was a wonder anyone could move.

Cregan stood at the edge of the living room, scanning the crowd. His usual confident demeanor was subdued by a palpable tension, the kind that comes with anticipation. He hadn't seen or spoken to you since his conversation with Jace, and he was starting to regret it.

His mood had worsened over the past few days since he stopped parking in your spot. Even though he was so close to you, well, at the same college, he couldn’t see you, and it was starting to weigh on him on an extreme level. During the summer break, he had a legitimate reason not to see you—after all, you seemed to be avoiding him, or maybe it was just in his head—but now, having made the decision to stay away from you on his own, he was growing frustrated with himself. He felt stupid, to say the least.

Sometimes, he wanted to kick himself for listening to Jace.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts—thoughts that kept drifting to you, despite his best efforts—by a girl who approached with a sly smile on her lips. She was attractive—the kind of girl who would normally catch Cregan's attention without even trying. But tonight, he was distracted, and her presence only heightened the desire he felt for you and the satisfaction he took in choosing celibacy because of you.

"You’re Cregan, aren’t you?" the girl asked as she got close enough, and he nodded with little interest, trying to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose at her approach as the strong scent of her perfume filled the space between them. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he found himself longing for something lighter, sweeter—like the refreshing aroma he associated with you. "What are you doing just standing here?" she continued, her smile never fading.

Cregan turned his gaze from the girl to the door, shrugging slightly as he tried to maintain a polite demeanor. "I’m just taking a break," he said, his voice flat and distant. He cleared his throat, realizing his tone was more curt than he intended. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t care much; his mind was focused on finding you, and the girl’s presence was a minor distraction he could barely tolerate.

From the corner of his eye, Cregan noticed the girl’s surprise at his lack of enthusiasm, but he couldn’t have cared less. His mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of you, and the growing urgency to find you made every other interaction feel like an unwelcome distraction. The intensity of his desire for you made the presence of any other girl and their attempts at conversation seem utterly insignificant.

"You’re not really in the mood for company, are you?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. Cregan gave her a brief, indifferent glance before nodding. With a resigned sigh, she took a step back, clearly uncertain about what to do next.

"Okay, I understand," she said once more, but he remained focused on the floor, ignoring her. "Look for me if you need company," she added, her voice trailing off as she noticed his disinterest. With a final, frustrated sigh, she turned and walked away, leaving him to continue his search for you, oblivious to her departure.

After a few minutes of waiting, growing increasingly restless, Cregan sighed and decided to search for you himself, diving into the dense crowd of sweaty and inebriated students. The music blared around him, mingling with the chaotic hum of conversations, making it difficult to focus. Despite the overwhelming noise and heat, he moved with determination, pushing through the crowd in pursuit of finding you.

He scanned every face and every group, hoping to catch a glimpse of you amid the chaos. The heat and noise of the party only heightened his anxiety, but he pressed on, driven by the urgent need to find you. He needed to see you, even if it was just for another exchange of barbs or the flirtatious remarks you used to make. He just wanted to be near you, and all his rational thoughts seemed to disappear when it came to you.

Cregan’s search felt endless, each moment blending into the next as he navigated the throng of bodies. His gaze flitted from face to face, his mind consumed by the one person who dominated his thoughts: you.

Then, through a gap in the crowd, he caught sight of you in a small room downstairs. You were laughing with Baela and Rhaena, a cup of beer in hand. Cregan's heart raced at the sight of you, his gaze lingering on the way your clothes accentuated your curves. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation.

Without waiting too long, he took a deep breath and moved toward you, once again carefully navigating through the sea of people, his heart racing as he approached. As he got closer, he couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh at your soft yet somehow scandalous laughter, which made him quicken his pace. 

Summoning his courage, he stepped closer, his eyes locked on your face as he fought to keep his gaze steady. He cleared his throat, hoping to get your attention without startling you. "Hi," he said, his voice betraying only a hint of the nerves he felt. You looked up at him, surprised. "How’s it going, dear?" he asked, trying to sound casual as he used the tone that was uniquely his with you.

You blinked slowly, not noticing how the twins giggled and moved away to another part of the room, giving you privacy with Cregan. The truth was, you were surprised. Cregan hadn’t been occupying your parking spot for the past three days, which was unsettling since, for the last seven months—on the days you had classes—he was always there with his Jeep, waiting to exchange sarcastic remarks or even flirt with you.

And although you didn’t want to admit it, his absence made you more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

"Oh, hi, Cregan," you replied, immediately regretting the brevity and dryness of your response when you saw his expression falter slightly. "I haven’t seen you the last few days. Are you okay?" you asked, trying to steady your breath as he moved closer. Despite your efforts to stay composed, he seemed entirely focused on you, his eyes locked onto yours.

He could smell your refreshing scent, and it was already making him a bit dizzy and thirsting for more.

"I am." Cregan replied in a softer voice, stopping in front of you, and you had to lift your head to look into his eyes. "Why do you want to know? Did you miss me?" He hummed lightly, not taking his gaze off your lips, which made you blush visibly.

You blinked at his question, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. You tried to maintain your composure, but the way he looked at you made it difficult. "Maybe," you said, your voice softer than you intended. For a moment, you saw his eyes widen before he quickly regained his composure.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. He was astonished, to say the least. You had always seemed indifferent to his advances and flirtations, so the softness in your voice now was unexpected. Despite his enjoyment of your acidic responses, he couldn't help but feel pleased. For a moment, he was grateful he had followed Jacaerys's advice, realizing that this moment might never have happened otherwise.

Cregan stepped closer, his breath hitching as he watched your expression. The air between you buzzed with a tension that sent his heart racing, and he was almost sure you felt it too when he saw the rise and fall of your chest. Maybe it was how your breaths seemed to sync or how you were both so engrossed in each other that the surrounding noise faded into the background. Either way, he was content, sensing that you were as well.

"Good," he murmured, his voice low as his face hovered just inches from yours."Because I missed you too." He sighed, his voice devoid of its usual playful tone, filled instead with genuine and almost desperate sincerity.

Then, before he could say anything else, you rose onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his in a way so possessive and sudden that his eyes widened in surprise, momentarily stunned by what was happening. But it didn’t take long for him to close his eyes and wrap a strong arm around your waist, returning the kiss with a desperation that made you briefly question if this was the same Cregan who used to tease you every morning.

The kiss was intense, and he let you take the lead, too lost in your lips to even think about taking control of the kiss. He nearly groaned when your tongue met his, massaging it in a rough yet gentle way. He was almost drunk, so lost in the kiss that when your hips brushed lightly against him, he pulled back, his gaze roaming over your hody, filled with desire.

"Please, let’s get out of here," he murmured, his voice almost desperate, arms still wrapped firmly around your waist as he gazed at you with intense, pleading eyes. "Please," he repeated, the word laced with urgency. Though his sudden vulnerability caught you off guard, you gave a slight nod, and without wasting another moment, he gently took your arm, eager to continue what had just begun.

─────── ─────── ───────

You weren’t sure exactly what made you pull him close or kiss him with such intensity and need. Maybe it was the fear of him leaving you and the uncertainty of how you would cope without him after becoming so accustomed to his presence. Perhaps it was the way he embodied chaos, or maybe it was the fact that he looked so captivating under the soft party lights, just a short distance from his place. Whatever the reason, you found yourself lost in the moment, and you didn’t regret your decision.

You didn’t regret letting go of your pride, because if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to kiss him with such intensity the moment you reached his room. Nor would you have been able to ride his cock with such slow, deliberate movements that it brought tears to his eyes as he begged and cried for more. 

It was an exhilarating thrill to have a man of his size pleading for your body and pleasure, and you embraced every moment. Each desperate cry he made and every whispered plea and praise as he lavished kisses and worshipped you heightened your satisfaction and inflated your ego.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his devoted attention, especially as he eagerly explored every inch of you between your legs with the same tongue he used to provoke you.

Cregan's tongue worked your pussy with expert skill; his desperation was so intense that it was as if he were drunk on your taste. Each frantic suck on your clit had you murmuring incoherent words as you pressed your hips closer to his face. And grinned, moaning with each movement, holding your legs open firmly to keep devouring you.

"Cregan!" you tried to say between breaths, but he seemed to be lost between your legs, too focused on pleasing you. He just continued his relentless movements, his moans muffled against you as he rubbed his hips against his sheets, desperately seeking his own release while he devoured you.

"You have to stay still," he said against your pussy, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "Please?" he begged, and you nodded, glancing down to see his desperate eyes, glistening with tears at the corners.

You couldn't resist saying yes to him when he looked at you with those expectant eyes and spoke to you in a voice so soft and different from what you were used to, and you almost broke when he returned to licking your clit in a desperate and subtle way, almost as if he were desperate for more.

What you didn't know was how truly desperate Cregan was. This was the most intense thing he'd done in months, and his long period of celibacy only made him savor every moment more. He was so immersed in the pleasure of the moment that he felt if he were to die right there between your legs, he'd die utterly satisfied. And damn, he was on the brink of bliss, completely overwhelmed by you. Just you.

Your moans grew louder as Cregan continued to savour every inch of your clit. His movements became increasingly frantic and so desperate, as your pleasure mounted, you felt your body on the brink of climax. The pressure built up, making you shiver.

The way he licked and sucked at you with such urgency was overwhelming. Each touch of his tongue provided an intense stimulus that made you writhe. Despite your escalating pleasure, Cregan seemed even more satisfied. Your moans grew louder as Cregan continued to explore every inch of your clit. His movements became increasingly frantic and desperate, and as your pleasure mounted, you felt your body on the brink of climax. The pressure built up, making you shiver.

The way he licked and sucked at you with such urgency was overwhelming. Each touch of his tongue provided an intense stimulus that made you writhe. Despite your escalating pleasure, he seemed even more satisfied. His hips ground against the sheets, his restless movements intensifying the pleasure and causing him to moan against your pussy.

As the tension reached its peak, waves of intense pleasure overwhelmed you, your body writhing and trembling as you tried to hold on just a little longer, savoring the almost pathetic pleas of Cregan. But it was impossible to delay your orgasm, which hit you with a force that made your legs wrap around his head.

And, realizing that you had climaxed, Cregan lost control, letting out a moan as he licked up your release. His hips ground even harder against the sheets, desperately seeking his own orgasm. His moans grew louder and more intense, making you smile through your heavy breaths. Soon, he too reached his peak, his body trembling as he clutched at your waist.

Still holding your waist, Cregan managed to rise with effort, kicking the sheet aside and grabbing another to cover both of you. He lay down beside you and couldn’t resist planting one last soft kiss on your lips when he saw how beautiful you looked. Pulling you closer to his chest, he gently stroked your hair and placed tender kisses on your forehead, making you smile with contentment at this new side of him you had discovered.

After a few minutes, as the mood softened, he turned to you with a satisfied, playful grin, the same grin you were familiar with. "It’s time for you to accept my friend request," he said with a hint of sarcasm, tucking a few stray strands of your hair behind your ear.

You looked at him with a tired, lazy smile, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Shut up," you replied cheekily. He laughed one last time, clearly pleased with your response.

You might not be the sweetest person he knew, but it’s you who he wants.

2024 © do not repost or translate my work anywhere else.

— likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

i deleted a really big part of this smut because it was 4 a.m., and I was kind of ‘😵‍💫😵‍💫’. i really disliked this smut and tried to save as much as i could.

cregan tag list (open): @jacaerysgf @hobis-hope95 @velaryonbastard @throughgoeshamilton @housetargaryenloyalist

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Hey girly!! Im too shy to ask this without the anonymous filter but first of all I’ve been reading through your blog and I love it honestly. I was wondering if you are open to requests if you’d be able to write up something about joe rantz (I am absolutely LIVING for blonde callum) and maybe a coaches daughter trope? he saw her when he went to sign himself up, at the practices all that jazz and just them like becoming friends then more than friends, the boat scene where he gets his seat taken away from him maybe? thank you so much and again I love your work! xx

Hello, my lovely anon. Glad to see you in my inbox. I apologize for the wait but I've been coming out of an awful slump and I was trying to make this piece not total garbage. I hope you enjoy it and I hope I see you in my inbox again.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Joe Rantz (Callum Turner’s) x reader

wc: 4,600

Joe finds himself utterly gobsmacked when he discovers that the pretty face he’s seen at the shell house is the coach’s daughter and not his wife.

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz had come to the shell house in search of work. He’d hoped that making the team would cover his tuition and get him a room and he needed it so desperately. Roger Morris stood next to him, chewing nervously at his nails. “Sorry, Joe, didn’t realize competition would be so tight.” He mutters, spitting out a shred of his fingernail. Coach Ulbrickson was going over the basics of practice. It sounded like absolute hell to Joe but he was out of options. He fidgeted with the number painted on his jersey. Sure, he was strong from a lifetime of rough labor but so were the other boys. Most of them were broke too and just as desperate. Joe didn’t know if he had what it took to stand out but he’d be damned if he couldn’t make a life for himself because he couldn’t muscle up some money for college. 

As Ulbrickson speaks, a shadow appears in his office window. It’s too far for Joe’s nervous gaze to actually study the figure. He tries to focus on coach but the shadow continues to draw his attention. Roger notices too. “Who the hell is that?” Joe just shrugs. The shadow never leaves the window even as Ulbrickson finishes up and the boys get split up. Joe can’t dwell on the figure any longer because he’s being herded into the middle of shellhouse. He begins a horrible set of workouts. His body is made for hard work but he’s never actually worked out before. His muscles aren’t used to straining this way. 

It’s not long before his breathing becomes labored and sweat is pouring down his back. His curls hang down his forehead, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. And just when the pain is becoming unbearable the coaches are swapping them out and Joe is put on a junky old boat and an oar is pushed into his hands. They start rowing and instantly, the only thing on Joe’s mind is how bad his back hurts. Pained grunts and groans echo across the water as the boys struggle to keep pulling the oars. 

Eventually, it’s all over. Joe stumbles onto the dock in front of the shellhouse and feels his knees shaking with excursion. Men begin to drain away from the shellhouse and as the numbers dwindle, the shadow in the window of Ulbrickson’s office reappears. It moves through the glass panes like a swan through water. Then the office door opens and Joe sees your face for the first time. 

“That was some tough practice, huh?” Roger bumps Joe’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his face. Joe cannot respond and Roger follows his gaze. “Washington, Washington, what finery you enjoy.” 

You descend the steps and take a place between Ulbrickson and Bolles. Ulbrickson puts and arm around and Joe feels his heart wither a little. You’re probably Mrs. Ulbrickson. Though he can’t shake the impression that you look a little too young to be with Ulbrickson. 

“Alas,” Roger throws up his hands, “Finery we cannot also enjoy.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I’m not! How was that crass?” Roger purses his lips and nudges Joe. 

Joe just buttons up his jacket and picks up his books, “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The very next day, Joe is suffering through practice. He aches all over and his muscles scream at him. He’s already shaking when he gets done with the basic strength building exercises. Most of the boys are. There are fewer numbers today but this does not better Joe’s odds by much. They clamber into Old Nero and start rowing away. His wrists twinge and his knees spasm. He rows and rows until he thinks his body will give out and then Ulbrickson is directing them back to the shellhouse. Jow crawls out of the boat, soaked to the bone and stiff as a board.

Then he sees you again, this time your sorting registry papers with Pocock. Your back is turned to him, so you don’t notice his longing stare. He keeps telling himself that you’re a married lady and that he should be focused on making the team, but nothing seems to chase you from his mind. 

Coach Ulbrickson sweeps across the dock and places a hand on top of your head, an odd gesture between husband and wife but Joe wouldn’t know about those things. Since his group was the last to use Old Nero, they get the privilege of stowing the oars. Joe begins unlatching the mechanism when he shifts on his knees.

It happens so fast he can’t clock what’s happening. First there’s the sensation of slipping, the horrible thrust of his legs flying out from beneath him. He twists mid slip, and his side smacks the dock painfully before he’s swept off the dock by his own weight. He plumets into the cold water with a catastrophic splash and agonized shriek.

When Joe resurfaces a dozen hands are reaching for him. He grasps onto George Hunt’s forearm and allows Shorty to hoist him onto the sodden wood planks. A fluffy white towel is draped around his shoulders; firm hands rub his chilled biceps. “Are you alright?” You face appears before him.

Joe is almost too stunned to speak, “I—yeah, yeah I’m okay.” 

You tuck the ends of the towel into his hands, “Better get showered up and dressed.” Joe just nods and stumbles past you and into the locker room. Roger follows closely behind, teasing Joe relentlessly.

“You’re fallin’ harder than I thought.”

“Roger!” Joe grinds his teeth, huffing and puffing. “You need better jokes.”

Joe spends that night struggling to focus on his schoolwork. He has math homework that needs doing. He has books to read. The one in his hands now periodically goes in and out of focus as Joe’s mind wanders. On the page is the story of a western novel, a man had found a girl walking alone the road at dusk, all on her own. He didn’t want to leave her to the coyotes, so he offered her a ride into the nearest town. They were riding horseback across the prairie. Her arms wound tightly around him; her hands splayed over his chest. 

Her hands—

Her hands—

What is wrong with you, Joe?

Joe reads this line over and over again. Each time he nears the end his brain short circuits and all he can think about are your hands on your shoulders. You hadn’t even really touched him, at least not his skin.  Yet the only thing shooting through his neurons are the sensations of your fingers along his skin. That imaginary touch he can conjure up so perfectly. He eventually gives in and skips down a few paragraphs. He reads late into the night and the phantom touches are still nagging his senses when he closes the book and rolls over to sleep. 

…

Day after day, Joe sees you at practice. You congratulate him when he makes the team and help him with his technique every once and a while. “Roll your wrists just a bit more.” Your fingers would poke at his forearms and direct him in graceful strokes. It fries his brain. You give pointers to the rest of the team too, working closely with Bolles and Pocock to get them in racing shape. It’s not long into the season when Ulbrickson decides to switch coxswains. 

“This is Bobby Moch. Your new jockey.” Bolles announces one day. Bobby is short and slender and sharp tongued.  The second he climbs in the boat and starts barking out commands, Joe is flabbergasted. Who is Bobby to talk to the team this way? But they all find themselves obeying his every word. What really irks Joe about Bobby is how friendly he is with you. You exchange jokes and poke fun at each other. Joe tells himself that he just thinks it’s inappropriate to flirt with the coach’s wife but beneath it all he’s incredibly jealous that Bobby can make you laugh so easily. It makes Joe pine for attention in a way that he never has before. 

The day of their race against California, Joe is all jitters and nerves. He bounces on the balls of his feet and shakes his hands, trying to loosen the anxiety. Streamers and garlands of flags decorate the locker room and the campus. People have gathered in clusters along the course and wave flags of purple and gold. The smell of popcorn and peanuts permeates the air and Joe promises to indulge himself if they win.

As the crew carried their shell down to the water, they begin chanting to themselves. “Bow down to Washington!” They neglect the varsity’s jeers and clip their oars into position. They spot Coach Ulbrickson in the stands, you at his side. And then there’s another woman. And Ulbrickson hugs her. And then he kisses her.

Right in front of you! What is going on?

“Rantz! Eyes on me!” Bobby hollers. But Joe can’t help stealing another confused glance. “I said quite drooling over coach’s daughter and LOOK AT ME!”

Joe feels like an idiot. He puts his head down in shame and tightens his grip on the oar. Ulbrickson joins them on the dock and gives one of his famously encouraging speeches. Joe is only half paying attention. They push off and are left with lovely Bobby hyping them up while they wait for the race to start. They lean forward, like a bow drawn for a shot. And then the white flag flies and the boats shoot away from the docks.

There’s nothing but blur as Joe rows. He can only focus on the muscled shoulders of Don Hume in the stroke seat as Bobby screams at them. “28!”

About halfway through the course, Bobby demands the stroke rate be upped and Don performs. The shell lurches forward, eating up the distance between Washington and Cal until the JV boat surpasses the Berkeley blokes. Then the boat is cutting across the finish line, a clean win. Adrenaline rushes Joe’s veins. He throws his fists in the air as the team splashes and roars. They’re inevitably drowned out by the crowd who bursts up in a shower of peanuts and Washington flags. 

Coach Ulbrickson, the new woman Joe assumes his Ulbrickson’s wife, and you rush the dock as the boys climb out of the boat. “Excellent job.” Mrs. Ulbrickson shakes their hands as they unclip their oars. Bolles is compassionate enough to give them each a pat on the back as they hoist the boat over their heads and haul it off. 

Joe can’t help but notice the copious amounts of onlookers pooling around the shell as they carry it back to the shellhouse. They set it down on the stands and before they can even take their hands off the shell, they are bombarded by Washington fans. Girls reaching out to stroke their biceps or kiss their cheeks. Joe has never received attention like this once in his life. He’s as polite as possible, brushing off a few girls here and there and shaking the hand of the occasional fellow. Shorty has accumulated a few lipstick stains on his cheek. Don Hume is blushing from the tips of his ears down to the point of his freckled nose. Chuck and Roger accept a few hugs. They bask in the winners’ glory for only a few moments until the varsity team strolls by. They make a comment to Moch that Joe doesn’t catch but judging by the way Bobby’s shoulders square he can make obvious conclusions.

“You rowed so well today, Joe.” He hears your voice, and his palms start to sweat.

“Thanks, I uh—” It occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know a thing about you. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name.” You smile at him, and syllables fall out but the crowd is too loud. “What?” Your grasp his shoulder and lean in, the sound of your name echoes off the shell of his ear. 

When you pull away, you’re still smiling but before Joe can ask you another question, Bobby is buzzing by with a play-by-play of exactly what happened in Bobby’s world. 

You shade your eyes and peer down at the docks, “Looks like dad is almost done with the varsity. I should get down there.” You say, and Bobby turns around to talk to Shorty. “Hey. Will I see you at the party tonight?” Your hand rests on Joe’s shoulder. He prays you can’t feel his heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. You had better save a dance for me, Joe Rantz.”

You leave him breathless, the butterflies in his stomach so vicious that he shudders. He watches you disappear down the pathway to the dock and his heart starts hammering with anticipation. You want to dance with him. You want to touch his hands, touch him. And then he remembers that you already did that, he was too focused on the motion of your lips that he’d hardly registered the sensation of your hands on his arm. Damn! What had it felt like? He’d remembered it’d made him flabbergasted and choked his speech but he couldn’t remember how the grooves in your palm felt as they brushed over his skin. The warmth of your fingertips. He curses himself out and vanishes into the locker room to get changed.

…

The dance rolls around rather too quickly and Joe is swimming in nerves. He has to tie his tie twice because he messes up so badly, he can’t even draw it tight to his neck. Roger found out all too quickly and hasn’t let Joe catch a break.

“A date with coach’s daughter. Careful Joe, Ulbrickson might throw you off the team if he catches the wrong look in your eye.” 

“Shut up, Roger, I’m not greasy like you”

“Ouch, that hurts me.”

“Clearly not enough.” Joe hisses as he finally gets his tie right. 

“Feels like I’m a father about to send his kid off to prom.” 

Joe sighs and throws on his suit coat. “Oh, please—”

“Look at you fly, shooting out of your league.” 

Roger works a smile onto Joe’s face, and they set off for the party. Spring is finally warming the campus up from a brutal winter and a few couples mull around outside. Joe and Roger find their way into the crowded gymnasium, both shocked by just how loud it is. Joe can’t even hear his own thoughts. They spot the team almost immediately, clustered around tables, drinks in their hands. A few of the boys are dancing with some lovely dames, a few are leaned against the wall having close conversations. Don is sitting by himself on a bench a few feet away from the refreshment table, watching the dance floor. Joe is turning to follow Roger towards the other boys but an arm loops through his, “Thought you weren’t going to show.” You practically shout. 

Joe can’t help but grin as you capture his attention. “You weren’t joking.”

“Not a bit, Rantz, didn’t have any other dancing plans except for this one.”

“Guess I should make it worth your wait then.” Joe leads you into the thicket of bodies.

He prides himself on the laugh you let out, “please do,” you say as he takes your hands and spins to face you.  He places his hand high on your waist and cradles the other gently in his palm. He can feel the smooth plains of you hand against his. Each crease and each callous. His are no doubt unbelievably rough from the rowing and he would feel bad but right now all he can feel are your fingers lacing through his. “You’re not half bad.” You tease. Joe knows his cheeks are heating up to a flaming red. Probably his ears too. 

His hand migrates to the small of your back as the music changes into a soft slow song. “I’ll be completely honest,” he starts, “I had no idea you were the coach’s daughter.”

“Then who else would I be?” 

“I thought you were his wife.” He looks away sheepishly, but your laughter is so unrestrained and whole that Joe’s heart melts. You can’t stop laughing either and it’s contagious. 

“You’re an engineering student, right?” Your shoes brush as you sway with him. 

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Joyce.” Joe’s heart drops. In his infatuation he’d forgotten all about her. “She was trying to hit on you, but she figured out that your attention was elsewhere.”

“You too are good friends then?”

“Just since the start of the year. We have an English class together.” You and Joe talk for a while, it forces you to be close and neither of you care to separate. Eventually, you move outside and sit with sit with Joe on the steps of the gym. It’s still chilly out and you sit close to Joe which he doesn’t mind one bit. At some point your head rests on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Joe can do nothing but stare down at you, his mouth agape. 

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You trace his knuckles with your pointer finger.

Joe’s head pounds, his mouth dry, “This has never happened to me before.”

“None of the girls from high school? Never?”

“Not one.”

You look up at Joe and reach to smooth back a blond curl. “Shame, they were missing out.” This makes Joe smile again and he’s immensely pleased with how easily you do that to him. Make him happy. He hasn’t felt like this since… he can’t remember when. Sure, he was happy when the team won but that was different. That was pride. So was making the team. This feels more affectionate, closer to the heart. He wonders if this is what love feels like but that would be silly; he’s only known your name for a day. He’s also never been flattered quite like this. Besides Joyce, he can’t think of anyone else who’s actually been interested in him. Certainly not one who compliments him the way you do. 

People start to drain out of the gym very slowly and Joe checks his watch. “So late already?”

“Guess I should get home; my dad will be wrought with worry.” You joke and straighten out your skirt. 

“Can I walk you home?”

“I would love that.”

Joe offers you his hand, “Where does coach live?” 

“Not too far.” You accept his calloused hand and direct him off campus. Surprisingly, Joe has read the book you’re reading for English and time flies as you discuss the book. Then Joe makes a sobering comment that makes you stop and study him. 

“His parents remind me of my own.”

Joe realizes what he’s let slip, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Joe presses his lips into a line and stares down at his worn shoes. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he realizes how ragged of a life he has lived and just how much it shows. “Well—”

“Is this why you have a hard time trusting your team?”

“Hey now,”

“Sorry.” You take his hands.

He grimaces and squeezes your soft palms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” 

Joe sighs and swipes a thumb across your knuckles. “My Pops just… left me one day. Told me I’d be fine on my own.” Joe gives you parts of the story. Mostly what he feels like stomaching at the moment.

When he’s finished you let go of his hands and cup his cheeks. He sinks into the touch, soaking it up like a flower budding in sunlight. You don’t say anything, you just look at him. You look at him like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered and his heart trembles because he has never once known what it’s like to be that for someone else. And then you stand on tip toes and plant a hearty kiss on his forehead. “This is it actually,” you gesture behind you at the hosue that must be the Ulbricksons’. “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”

“Yeah.” The spot on his forehead that you kissed tingles. “Nowhere else I’d want to be.”

…

The Poughkeepsie Regatta rolls around all too quickly and Ulbrickson has to make a decision. The varsity boat who deserves it. Or the JV boat who could win it. His hands sweat as he stands on at that pulpit and reads off his preplanned speech. As he talks, he thinks about the future of the rowing program. The jobs it has provided him and Bolles. About how Pocock would have to find work elsewhere and it’d kill Al Ulbrickson to send him away. 

He leans into the mic and spits, “and that boat is our JV boat.” It has to be them. They have to win. Moans and groans blow his way as the crowd rejects his announcement. Regret washes over him but he cannot take this back. He has to be right about his crew. He tips his hat and hustles off the podium as the JV bursts into celebration. He has to be right.

…

Joe is more than pleased to see you on the train to Poughkeepsie. He slides into the car with you, and you chat away. You were fast friends the night of the dance and have since become closer. The kiss on the forehead still lingers sometimes, especially when Joe sees your lips form your smile. You entice him into some card games and eventually a game of chess. At some point, he decides that he needs to sleep and bids you goodnight so that he can find a train car to sleep in. But before he does, he sneaks a chaste kiss onto your knuckles. 

His good mood is stamped out the very next day when the team takes to the water. They don’t row good, and frustration starts to build. Bobby and the coaches try and get them working together, telling them that it’s just nerves and new water. But tensions rise regardless. The days start to dwindle, and the crew is getting worse and worse. 

Blame starts to turn to him, and Joe is at a loss. He doesn’t want to believe that he’s holding the team back, but he thinks back to what you said that night he walked you home. But the most awful feeling creeps over him, not an ounce of care. What’s wrong with him. This crew has been the only family he’s had in years. He needs them. But he can’t bring himself to admit it. 

Before he knows it, it slips and Ulbrickson is exiling him from the boat. As the crew watches Joe storm away, their spare crawls in and they set off for another row. Bolles taps you on the shoulder, “you had better see if you can do anything. Enlist Pocock if you have to.” Your father nods along.

You set out to find him, not that it was hard there’s not many places he can go alone. He’s stuffing his suitcase when you find him. “Don’t start.” He snaps. Then he sees your expression and his anger sours. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t—”

“Don’t give up on your team, Joe.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’re quitting and throwing everything you’ve worked for away.”

“Don’t, don’t even start to pretend you know me.” He realizes too late that he’s made everything so much worse and before he can fix a thing Pocock is at the door.

“I could use some help putting another coat of oil on the shell.”

You duck past Pocock and leave Joe with a painful pit of remorse in his stomach. He follows Pocock and takes the talking to straight to the heart. As he lathers on a thick coat of oil, he figures he can bargain with Ulbrickson in the morning, but he should make a proper apology to you now. He racks his brain for anything that would make it right, but he’s horrifically inexperienced and it’s crippling him now. He feels like a child having a tantrum. He feels miniscule and insignificant.

After Joe dunks his brush into the whale oil can for the last time, he figures he’d better just confront the issue head on since he has no way of handling it delicately. He has no grace and he’s sure you’re aware of this. Pocock gives him an encouraging pat and takes the can from him. Joe winds his way back to the hotel and through the halls. Your room is on the second floor, third door down. He knocks gently, eyes lingering on the hideous carpet and tacky sconces. The door swings open after a moment and Joe is met with your disapproving glower. His tongue seems to swell in his mouth so badly that he worries it’ll flop out when he tries to speak. 

“Coffee?” You ask when you realize he will stand there silently forever if you don’t let him in. 

“No… I just wanted to—to apologize.”

“Oh really.” Your eyebrow quirks.

Joe is fumbling for words. You stand aside and motion for him to step inside so you can have this discussion in privacy. “I know that was wrong to take out my frustration on you. That wasn’t fair and none of it is your fault.” He twiddles his thumbs. How does he go about this without absolutely butchering it? “I just—” As he trails off, he notices a hurt dullness in your eyes. He recognizes it as pity. “You and the crew are really all I’ve got, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose it.”

“These boys aren’t going to leave you behind unless you separate yourself from them like today.”

“I know.

“Really?”

“Pocock made sure I know.”

The edges of your lips tilt up. You pull him down onto the foot of the bed and take his hand. “Are you actually going to try and trust them?”

“Don’t have enough faith to put it in anyone else.”

You squeeze his hand and trace a finger along his jawline, sweeping a knuckle under his chin. You force his stubborn gaze to you and find nothing but desperation. Wanting things like this doesn’t come natural to Joe and it shows, but he’s not so different from the other boys in that boat. 

You reach up and fiddle with a curl, “apology accepted.” Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he tries to choke them down. You place a hand on his chest and rest your forehead on his. His breath fans over your cheeks. The tip of his nose brushes yours. His shoulders sag inwards and he reaches for your waist. 

“Can I—may I kiss you?”

Joe’s sweetness never fails to amaze you. You cradle his face and bring him closer. “Yes, Joe.” His breath hitches and his lips finally meet yours for the very first time. He’s gentle but generous and lets you kiss him for as long as you like. His arms wrap around you fully and hold you to his chest. He gets the feeling that he’ll be craving these moments all the time now, finally understanding what Roger and Chuck rave about. He’s hooked on your lips and your weight against him and when you pull away it breaks his heart. 

“You should get cleaned up before you talk to my father, you smell like whale oil.”

...

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading this. If you'd like to request, feel free to do so. I always love you in my inbox. I hope you enjoyed this fic and if you like it please check out my masterlist for more. Have nice day.

-the author

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝟐:𝟏𝟖𝐚𝐦 - 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

situationship!heeseung x fem!reader

genre: angst

warnings: heeseung just being toxic, mentions of alcohol and drugs/being high, skinship, suggestive, cursing, jealousy, mention of drowning (metaphorically)

word count: ~2,5k

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

your fingers reached up to softly massage your temples as soon as you stopped your car at the red traffic light. why did you even stop? when the digital clock on the display right underneath your car's windshield read 2:18am and the empty streets had pracitcally turned the city into a ghost town?

you scoffed to yourself at the grotesque thought of you being the only soul out at this time, only to pick up heeseung, who had been way too far gone to call you himself.

"'m sorry to call you and burden you with this, pretty, but you gotta pick up your man from my place", heeseung's friend sunghoon had slurred at the other end of the line when your phone had rung less than ten minutes ago. he'd went on about how all of them had been either too drunk or too high to take heeseung home and how letting him sleep over was not an option cause he was 'unbearable and didn't shut up about you'. you would have declined, denying the truth behind sunghoon's words, and most importantly, you would have told sunghoon that heeseung was, in fact, not 'your man'. you would have told him to remind the elder that you'd already instructed him to stop drunk-texting or -calling you, that you didn't want to be there for him, only to get thrown away the second his mind was clear again. you would have done all those things, hadn't it been for heeseung's faint voice you could hear through your speaker, his almost desperate plea for someone to call you, to ask you to come. it made your heart ache and your gut fill with both pity and anger. and against all the rationality you could muster, you gave in. just like all the previous times.

the red light switched, illuminating the dark night in a rich green light.

you dropped your right hand to the gearshift, your left one to the steering wheel, and continued your way to sunghoon's place, the route being all familiar by now from the countless times you had found yourself in the exact same situation before.

when you arrived, sunghoon was standing outside the front door, waiting for you with an apologetic look on his face. his eyes quickly scanned you up and down, your lack in effort to dress up and your tired eyes making him realize that he must have really woken you up with the call.

"i'm sorry again", he mumbled, and when you didn't reply he continued "he's in the living room"

you nodded and followed him, finding the drunk man in question sitting on the sofa with his eyes only half open, seemingly complaining to his friend jake about something you couldn't quite make out from the distance and the way he could barely form a sentence without tripping over his tongue.

the sight made you sigh, wishfully thinking that he'd meant what you had overheard on the phone call with sunghoon earlier.

jake, who looked to the living room door in despair, let out a relieved sigh when he spotted you standing there with sunghoon.

"god bless you, thank you for coming", he said to you before turning back to heeseung, "your girl came to pick you up, now please shut up and don't annoy her the way you did with us"

"i'm not-", you started to protest, but decided to drop it the second heeseung's tired eyes met yours. the dark shade of brown caught you off guard, like it did every time, almost leaving you speechless.

you kept your eyes fixated on his, desperately searching for sincerety, for longing, for something to light up at the sight of you - anything. but the fuzzy feeling in your stomach that the first look into his eyes had given you soon subsided, giving way to disappointment that made you realize your search would stay without result.

"let's go home, hee", you mustered all the strength it took you to fight back tears or any sign of vulnerability.

he complied wordlessly, standing up from the couch, only to sit right back down as the dizziness shot up to his head.

"god, how much did you drink?", you mumbled, half worried, half annoyed. heeseung got wasted at least twice per week. he should have known his limits by now.

you walked up to the sofa with weak knees, hoping you wouldn't instantly melt into his touch the second he took the hand you offered him. you pulled him up, your grip on his hand just tight enough to steady but not hurt him.

you said a quick goodbye to his friends and slowly pulled heeseung outside the front door. when you reached your car, you opened the passenger door, carefully guided him to sit down and made your way to the other side of the car to sit in the drivers seat.

"seatbelt", you said sternly, watching him from the corner of your eyes. heeseung reached back to pull the seatbelt, only for it to slip out of his loose grip right after.

"how much did you drink?", you repeated the question you posed earlier, leaning over him to reach for his seatbelt. so close to his face you could feel his intoxicated breath on your skin, which instantly made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"missed you", heeseung's whisper sent goosebumps down your spine. his hand found its way up to your cheek, softly caressing your skin with his thumb.

for a second, you closed your eyes, let yourself lean into his soft touch, wishing that it would stay like that forever. opening your eyes, you locked them with his darker ones immediately. the two of you held eye contact for some seconds, neither of you daring to blink - almost as if you were scared that if you closed your eyes now, you'd lose sight of the other forever.

you felt your heart sink more and more, knowing that this was exactly how you felt, knowing that he did not feel like that at all. you didn't want to be here with him and yet you couldn't help yourself to get into your car in the middle of the night to pick him up, to be with him for a few hours before he'd wake up and leave you alone as always. before he'd, again, keep you at a distance, only to call you 'his' whenever it would suit him. but for a reason unknown to yourself, you always gave in, always came back to him - as if the few hours of him holding you could heal all the scars he cut so deep into your heart, as if this time it could be different and he'd stay.

heeseung was the first to look away, his eyes wandering down to your plump lips. it took you all the strength you had left to not give in; to place your hand on top of his chest to hold him back before he could lean in.

"you smell like alcohol", you made up an excuse to not let him kiss you, aware that it was no use trying to address the real problem when he was in this state now.

you sank back into your seat slowly, ready to start the engine without another word when heeseung reached out and stopped your hand from turning the key.

"why were you so close to sunghoon at the party two weeks ago?", he slurred.

you didn't reply. you wanted to tell him that you came to sunghoon crying, almost begging him to look after heeseung, to make sure he wouldn't drink as much - you really did. but you didn't want to make yourself more vulnerable in front of him than you already were. you didn't want him to be aware of the power his drunk actions had over you, not now. so you decided to leave him clueless as to why sunghoon had had his arms wrapped around you tightly when you let your tears soak his shirt two weeks before.

the truth was, you couldn't handle it anymore. the constant on and off with heeseung. you should have known when you had accepted the friends-with-benefits agreement with him four months ago, but in your intoxicated state of mind you'd had the delusion that it might turn out to be something more.

by now, you weren't even that anymore. to be friends with benefits, you had to be friends in the first place. and friends were there for each other, cared about each other, made time for each other. you did all those things for heeseung, he did none.

"i asked you something", heeseung's voice brought you back to the moment.

"it was nothing", you replied shortly, finally turning the key, despite his hand still lingering on yours, and pulling out of the parking lot.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

you didn't know if it was the best idea when you decided to not bring him home and letting him sleep at your place instead, but you couldn't get yourself to leave him alone - although deep down you knew well enough he deserved it.

after you reached your place, every step seemed like pure routine to you; leading him inside the building and up to your apartment, then to the bedroom, where you made sure he removed his jeans to sleep comfortably, before tugging him into your silk sheets. you went to the kitchen to fill a glass with water and leave it, along with some painkillers for the next morning, on your small bedside table.

the faint scent of you on your pillows clouded heeseung's already intoxicated mind even more, bringing back memories of countless nights you'd spent together. you'd always been so easy to him. it'd only needed a call and some kisses to get you where he wanted you.

now, with you sitting on the edge of the bed, you seemed different - almost out of reach.

"what happened to you? realized you like sunghoon more than me?", he scoffed, reaching out his hand to draw small patterns on the outside of your thigh. his soft touch contrasted the almost harsh tone of his voice.

"i don't wanna talk right now, heeseung", you moved further away from him, ready to stand up, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

"y/n", he started, "you cannot go after my best friend. you're mine", he purred, tightening his fist around your wrist a little.

"can you drop the whole sunghoon shit, for fucks sake?", you snapped back, pulling your hand out of his strong grip, all the emotions you had been bottling up overflowing at once, giving way to anger and the courage to finally let them out.

heeseung raised an eyebrow. he was used to you cursing whenever he touched you in just the right places, hit the right spots, or when everything felt too much for you, but you had never cursed at him outside the bedroom. and although he couldn't help but feel just a little attracted by it and the way your angry state made your chest move up and down in fast, shaky breaths, a switch inside of him flipped. you were at fault, you had been so close to his friend, so why were you mad now? he should have been the mad one. mad at you and mad at sunghoon. hadn't he told all his friends that you belonged to him?

"if you didn't want me to say anything, you shouldn't have been a bitch", he hissed, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut.

out of everything heeseung had done so far, out of everything you wanted to curse him for, to scream at him for until he finally heard you, he had never insulted you.

"i was crying, heeseung. cause you have been acting like a bitch", your words caught his attention, making him sit up on the bed, "sunghoon only comforted me when you were too busy getting wasted"

"so as soon as i'm out of reach, you just run to my friends to get dicked down?", he dug deeper, his jaw tensing.

you rolled your eyes, anger and annoyance outweighing any other emotion you felt towards him at this point of the conversation. "no, but even if, it would have been none of your business who i fu-"

"you're mine", heeseung interrupted. you opened your mouth to object, but he was faster, "pretty sure the marks on your body are still there to prove it"

"i'm yours? fucking act like it, then!"

"i just said the marks on-"

this time, you were the one to interrupt him.

"you, heeseung. you should prove it. not 'the marks', i'm not a trophy. you're only calling me when you're drunk, high or horny. you don't even ask me how i am, how my day was, you wouldn't-", your voice broke, cutting you off. only now, you realized the tears that had slowly started to roll down your face one by one now that you finally voiced part of what had been troubling you for so long.

heeseung's expression remained stoic. "that's kinda what friends with benefits means, you agreed on that"

"we're not even friends. i care so much about you, i worry about you, i want to be by your side when you're having good times and when you're struggling. i put you over everything, i always did what you asked me for and more. but you'd never do that for me, not even half of these things. you throw me away like a piece of trash as soon as you don't need me anymore. heeseung, i lo-", you sobbed heavily, your confession stuck in your throat, "why are you doing this?"

you already knew. you were expecting what was coming, but hearing it from him would for sure make everything crash down on you like a big wave, ready to drown you.

"you're easy, y/n, you're always right there when i need someone", heeseung replied, almost nonchalant. although something about the way you were standing in front of him shaking and crying tugged at his heart, he couldn't get himself to comfort you. "i didn't know it hurts you so much, you always come back to me."

you're easy y/n, his words echoed in your head. everything started spinning. regret started to fill you up, daring to overflow. was the pain really worth the the few hours with him in which you'd wished time would stop and things would stay like this forever?

"don't call me again", was the only thing you said, before you walked out of your own room, leaving heeseung alone, and making your way to the sofa, where you lay down and silently waited for him to sleep off the alcohol. knowing that he would leave without another word in the morning . just like always.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

a/n: i think this is the most angsty thing i've written so far and ngl idk how i like it (ᵕ—ᴗ—) also i was thinking of maybe making a permanent taglist so in case you'd be interested to be added, lmk hehe ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

thank you so much for reading up until here. it means the entire world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed it. please do not copy. ❤︎︎

- dazzlingjaeyun

[shibaraki]

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waste a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John” - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[adoregojo]

↬ two paths 一 ⦁ nagi.s, reo.m

▶︎ sooooooooooooo... this is some rotting dabble i abandoned, and since Im kind of desperate for any glimpse of motivation, i finished it. and surprise, surprise! its a reo and nagi fic lmaolmao.

▶︎ summary: reo have had a crush on you for a good long two years, and when it's the time to word his love to you, but a obstruct of your part says otherwise. ▶︎ context: nagi is your childhood friend, jealousy, idk if this counts as a love triangle? it's more like your a brick head, some angst (ofc) kind of a plottwist !!gn reader!!

"i like you, I've liked you ever since you stepped into my world, i like everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your gentle hands, your laugh, and most of all your soul that kept me hostage. and i-"

the hang up sound cut him off.

silence fell upon the other side of the phone, only the stillness of the disconnected tone nudging him back to reality. his hold on the phone was a robust one, so stout to the point of a crack to echo. the compound of bitterness, remorse, frustration, all were hefty on the little pinning heart of his.

and with that, you rejected reo, without even saying a word.

and the next days were nothing but a grievous duration, to him the most. as much as reo didn't want to see you for a while, there was no escaping you when you were in the same school, classroom, 一hell, even club. you were in every corner and every ditch, and he'll be a dead lier if he said that your appearance alone wouldn't tiptoe on his heartstrings. reo can stay still ever so firmly and yet you'd still be able to prod him out of his ground as convenient.

reo wanted to be mad at you, to hate you even, but he couldn't, he sincerely couldn't. even when the strain was tense, unbearable, but somehow it also felt pitifully suffocated, graciously. it was you after all, where he felt like a fragile creature under your spell, gosh一 you had reo warped around your finger with cement.

nevertheless, what drove him to the edge was how you operated it. while reo handled it by immersing himself in two blankets and eat ice cream to pacified him to crying himself to sleep. however, you on the other hand was having the time of your life. greeting him good morning to saying goodbyes, even asking him how his day went, did his confession meant that little to you?

reo wondered if you bat an eye, you just denied him after all, but some acknowledgment would've been great. or at least have a talk about it. but instead you acted like it never even happened. the idea of you skipping over his feelings made him sick to his core, it sounded so ill-suited, you above all if not the most considerate, thoughtful person he'd ever met. that's how reo fell for you in the first place.

he wasn't gonna apologies for being selfish, he wanted you to himself. reo kept all his feelings for you bottled up for a good old two years, and he just cannot bare with the fear of someone else stealing you anymore 一something that kept him on trails of restless nights一

maybe that's what herd him away from you, the decedent between the two grew by each day. yet reo loved you too much to live with the consequences of his actions, he can't even look at you without screaming 'why don't you care as much as i do', your sudden unfamiliarity stings him slowly and most of all painfully.

for you to blow him away like a dust that burdens your clothes felt it was caused by a clone, or did he just never knew you like he thought he did?

it ached to see you asking him if he's okay, if you did something wrong to drive him away. and goddamn it hurts seeing you like this, he would rather bang his head to the wall repeatedly than see that anguished expression ever again, and worst of all, reo was the reason for it.

you were heavy on his mind 一as if you weren't already一 the recollection of you standing with your sweaty palms rubbing against each other, a bad habit you do when you get uneasy, he really fucked up to the point where you have became a nervous wreck in his presence. your utter was light, questioning if he even wanted to be your 'friend' anymore.

you weren't the one to blame, reo was the one who stopped talking to you, stopped sitting with you for lunch, he even withdrew the club you two shared 一he didn't even have a liking for it, just joined because you were there一 all that and you still tugged on the last tie of faith reo would walk back into your life with open arms.

but reo didn't want to be your 'friend', not anymore. he wanted to be the one to protect you, to understand you, he wanted to be your man, your other half more anything, for him to be your everything just like you are his. you can't just make heaven a living place on earth then walk away when he was on knees for you.

he left you at halt, saying that he needed some time. you never knew time for what because he walked away before letting you word anything out. so now, his hands buried deep in his pockets, he felt heavy, mind and heart on a race track. he felt awful, the image of you standing in confusion, lost on what to do will hunt him to his grave. he tried running his fingers throughout his violet lockes, he was petty, selfish, and reo knew he could've worded it better instead of this.

from the corner of his eye, he could spot a bunch of flowers fluttering under the rush of air, hit by the sunlight to outshine any other plants besides. he could've think of how beautiful they looked, but no, the first thing that popped out his mind was the image of how bliss you'll be seeing them flourish just the way you liked it.

reo contemplating his actions, the pure, straightforward out of his heart gates confession and how far it had driven him. how beyond it had tossed what you two had. something blended with bittersweetness squeezed within his chest, envisioning of your smile made it a challenge to breathe.

so he keeps on strolling, trying to straighten himself until a familiar tall white headed form comes to his view. ranking ahead of a vending machine, nagi was too busy searching for what it appears to be a coin to even notice reo.

nagi was your friend, the one who watched the two of you downfall in silence. he didn't say a thing about it, didn't get involved and much rather concentrate on his phone-games. but there was something else, nagi have been your friend for what reo have been told since childhood. it was something anyone can figure out in the first glance, nagi doesn't leave your side for what it seems like eternally, he remained as your sidekick for decades. he witnessed all your phases, your growth. and he wasn't planning on departure his spot. it was a rare sight to see nagi not glued to your side, did the sky spare him? did his desperation reaches the empyrean?

"hey," reo announced his presence, nagi's bored eyes soaring over him. so the purple head flipped a coin to his direction, nagi tamed it halfway, staring at the single coin then back at his friend. "need another one." he uttered flatly as ever, so reo push out a sigh as he tossed him another one. the snowy head mummers a low thanks.

"listen, i need to tell you something." reo enunciates after a moment of hesitation, caressing the back of his neck as his lilac hues kept on swirling around. his friend just humming in acknowledgment, supporting his chin with his hand while still examining over the endless optionals of drinks.

"it's about yn."

nagi rattled momentarily, your name was like a cold water on his senses.

well, that was easy. reo thought. "i did something a few weeks ago, and i think i fucked up everything." he says, undertone. as if he was admitting an unforgivable crime.

"what did you do?" there was something off about nagi's tone, his grip on the coins was merciless. but his face still seemed boarded, nonchalantly but oddly firmed for some reason.

"i kind of admitted my feelings to them..."

nagi's daze expression shattered in an instant, not anything crazy, but his eyes grew obscure, casing over reo like a giant blacked cloud.

for nagi to carry that kind of aura was eccentric, that face would only arise every time an unnamed got a little too close to you. at that time, reo convinced himself that he was imagining that, because nagi out of all people stood his ground when it comes to dating, he'd always say the same thing 'dating sounds like a hassle'. and sometimes something wild like 'don't need someone else around, I already have yn.' reo wasn't a backstabber, he only confessed to you because he lived under the roof that his friend wasn't even able to handle anything intrigued with romance.

"i just, been liking them for ages. and i found the strength to finally say it to them, they-"

"hung up on you." the snowy head finished his line, which made reo eyes widen a bit.

he shifted awkwardly, "haha, did they tell you? how embarrassing.." he tried laughing it off, trying to avoid nagi's gaze for his sake.

"they didn't." nagi spoke quickly, voice strained than usual.

"oh? so how did you?.."

"because i did it. i was the one who hanged up."

there was a moment of lull, where not even the waves of wind could sooth over the tension. reo stood still, waiting for nagi to stick out his tongue playfully and shout 'gotcha!', praying for whoever might've fell upon to this to be a sick prank.

"you what?" he doesn't even realize he spoke before the words had already slipped.

nagi sigh tiredly, his fingers still at halt to press the numbers of his wanted drink, he didn't like focusing on two thing at the same time. "i thought you'd figure it out already. man, do i have to explain myself now? what a hassle." he let out softly.

"nagi, you-"

reo doesn't get get the chance to speak, to think, before nagi cut him off swiftly handling the conversation, like he knew this was coming. "listen, reo. i like being your friend, but i can't let you have yn." his words kept hurtling reo, it all poured down at his like a sucker punch.

"i don't understand."

"it's not that hard, i liked them first, i found them first. so they're basically mine."

oh, oh.

it all made sense now. reo felt like an idiot, why is he seeing this now? this is why you were clueless, because you didn't answer it in the first place. why, why was he so rushed to say it and not letting what he thought was you speak first.

every time when nagi would drink from the same bottle of yours, when he would twirl around a piece of your hair randomly, when his head would rest on your shoulder in every ride home, when he would shut down every time reo rambled about you, he just got it. why was he just connecting the puzzle? was his feelings for you so blinding that he couldn't see this?

reo wanted to say something, in fact things. but the lump in his throat clogs his attempts to protests. leaving his mouth agape.

and it was like nagi couldn't get a hold of concern about this, in fact he found waiting for his drinks to make it way down more interesting. yet he sensed a blazing breeze from his friend's direction, it was hard not to when they were on the same burden as an elephant. so the snowy head swiftly retorted, "plus, you already are the standard, right? I'm pretty sure you can find someone else, it'll be better if you found one quicker."

after that, nagi bent over to grab what was supposed to be his lemon tea alongside your favourite one. boredom eyes doubled-dyed at the cans, mostly at yours before blowing out a vague breath一did he just scoff?

"why you.."

"sorry, don't like sharing."

and with that, nagi walked away. head empty with the only maintenance thing was a picture of you as he handed you your favourite flavour with the money that wasn't even his. leaving reo dumbfounding at his back, he didn't get a say on this, like this wasn't even meant for him.

this wasn't a stage he can purchase to himself, not even to earn a role. he felt like a third-wheel in you and nagi's love tale.

it loathes him, brings him to edge even. but most of all, reo now wanted you more than anything.

[deakyjoe]

Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes.  That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

[sillylittlestoryblog]

Keeping me warm

Part 1

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Warning: None I guess. Maybe awkward writing because I wrote this at 3 am while I couldn’t sleep ( it was storming ) and english isn’t my first language. Plus I haven’t written anything in ages so pls don’t judge to much.

Summery: basically just fluffy and angsty thoughts while freezing. Idk lol (I need sleep)

If you however do enjoy this, positive words are great for anyone’s mental health. Have fun.

The howling of the wind was unbearable. The crew members sat close together in the dark cave. It had been two days since the raging ice storm. Of course, no one had planned to stay in this place for so long. But just the thought of going outside into the cold made even the bravest pirates' legs shiver.

After even the stubborn captain of the Straw Hat Pirates had admitted that it no longer made any sense, everyone realized that they would have to sit out this storm.

The cave came in handy. Together with the Heart Pirates, the Straw Hats had anchored on this winter island.

The Sunny had been through a lot and Franky had actually planned to get some material for repairs in the small fishing village. Since only a few days had passed since the last major battle and the Surgeon of death was still busy patching up crew members, his crew was more than happy to take a break. A few days off couldn't hurt anyone.

You remember how Nami had been upset, crying that she would rather have stopped off at a nice summer island or at a luxurious spa. A vacation wasn't often granted to the Straw Hats. You had comforted her and said that a bit of snow could certainly be fun.

And oh how wrong you were.

You regret your words of encouragement as you sat shivering between your friends. An icicle hung from Usopp's nose as he desperately tried to warm himself by the small campfire.

"I'm hungry," Luffy's voice penetrated the silence. He said what everyone was thinking. Sanji was still trying to conjure up something edible from the few remnants that had survived the avalanche. But even the usually so positive cook didn't really know how to help himself.

Bepo and Chopper had suddenly become the most popular crew members. Everyone was secretly hoping to snuggle up in their warm furs and perhaps sleep despite the loud storm.

The only one who seemed to be able to sleep without the warmth of the two was Zoro. Once again, you envied him for having the talent to sleep in any situation.

Your eyes glanced over to the other pirate crew. Captain Law was sitting on a rock, looking into the void. He also seemed to be cold, but tried to hide it. Under no circumstances could he show any weakness. That would only make the situation worse and ruin the group‘s mentality. He scowled at the other captain, who kept shouting for food and jumping up and down. How could he still have that much energy ?

Law just rolled his eyes whenever he thought of the strawhat.

His mind wandered again and he looked in the other direction as unobtrusively as possible. From his seat, he had a good view of everyone. So he could keep a good eye on each member of his crew. At least that's what he told himself.

He also wanted to keep an eye on you.

Trembling, you sat between Nami and Robin. The older one had taken off her dark cloak and wrapped it around the three of you like a blanket. It was a nice gesture, but it didn't seem to do much good. But at least you weren't as stubborn as some others. The cook had refused to lean against one of the other men, preferring to rather run off to the other corner of the cave on his own. He must have been freezing, Law saw him looking enviously at the floor where Zoro had been snoring quietly for hours.

Yesterday, the motivation had been a bit higher. Everyone was sure that the storm wouldn't last that long and that the sky would soon be clear again. But this was the Grandline after all. No one could really predict the weather conditions.

Brook had wrote a little song, strawhat-ya had bounced happily back and forth and the cooks of both crews had roasted fish over the campfire.

You had smiled from time to time.

A warm feeling shot through Laws body.

Your eyes had sparkled in the light of the fire and he had to turn his gaze to you again and again. You were so beautiful.

Before you became part of the friendly crew, it had always bothered Law to spend too much time with the Straw Hats. They were loud, inconsiderate and constantly meddled in other people's problems. Above all, the parties that the rubber man regularly announced were law's worst nightmare. Loud singing, food and booze everywhere and always the strangest of people. He would much rather be in his study or in a quiet library, hoping desperately to escape the chaos.

But this feeling changed abruptly after you became part of the crew. He spotted you straight away. He quickly noticed a new face. And what a face it was. He had wanted to talk to you all evening. But someone was always glued to you, if it wasn't Nami, the captain or Chopper, it was the annoying cook who jumped around you with hearts in his eyes. Asking you for company, mixing you special drinks or turning up with a hot soufflé in one and a bouquet of flowers in the other hand.

Law had been uncomfortable, but he hadn't dared to speak to you. Nico Robin had told him over dinner how much you liked to read and that had only increased his interest.

Yet he hadn't made any effort to talk to you. You probably hadn't even noticed him.

You had noticed Trafalgar Law immediately.

Of course you knew his Wanted poster, as well as the many stories about the captain of the Heart Pirates. Luffy was always talking enthusiastically about Tra Guy and the other Nakama usually had the best stories to tell. Franky once told you how intelligent Law was, when you painted one of the rooms on the Sunny together. Usopp told you how badass his powers were. And Chopper had raved to you about his medical talent.

Since then, you had often asked the other girls about him. With completely neutral intentions, of course.

That's why Nami and Robin weren't at all surprised by the way you looked at him when you first met. Nami had rolled her eyes and laughed: "You look at him like you're Luffy and he's a piece of meat." You had sent her a dirty look, but your body had already betrayed you. Your cheeks were warm and your heart began to beat a little faster. Robin had just giggled and left you two alone.

When you thought back to that evening, your face flushed again. You sincerely hoped that you hadn't made a fool of yourself.

In the cold cave, these thoughts were the only thing that seemed to keep you warm. Again and again your thoughts seemed to wander to him. A glance in his direction couldn't hurt, could it?

Cautiously and not at all obviously, you let your eyes wander.

Your eyes wandered over the body in the dark coat. How you wish you could put it on your own body now.

His dark hair peeks out from under the white cap he always wore. You had to remind yourself of Nami's words two days ago. Maybe she was right. On a warm island, you would certainly have had the chance to see Law without his hat. How much you would have liked to see all of his hair. And you also felt that his eyes were always shrouded in shadow.

Eyes that you wished you knew the color of.

Eyes that always seemed to avoid yours.

Eyes that could never lose focus while in a fight.

Eyes that just swept over your body.

Eyes that met yours all at once.

Your head quickly turned to the side. Was he looking at you?! Just pretend you were doing something else. Had Robin been talking to you? You desperately tried to get your friend's attention. You feel like you've been caught. The familiar feeling of warmth returns even stronger than before. Robin had definitely been the wrong choice for your excuse. She couldn’t have been talking to you, of course, if you hadn't wasted your time ogling Law, you would have noticed how Robin's dark hair had landed on your shoulder. She'd been sleeping quietly next to you for a few minutes.

Damn. Now you were sure. He had caught you. Cautiously, your gaze drifted back.

Law's gaze was also averted but his cheeks were blushed. And his gorgeous eyes had disappeared behind his cap again.

Law's chest was suddenly incredibly warm. Why hadn't he been paying more attention? Of course you'd catch him staring at you. Hopefully you didn't think anything bad of him. Nothing would be worse than that.

You were probably used to being stared at. The cook could hardly take his eyes off you three Strawhat ladies. But had Law just looked at you the same way? As he pulled his coat closer around him, he hoped fervently that his eyes didn't turn into hearts every time he looked in your direction.

With the most serious expression he could fake in this moment, he tried again.

But he hadn't expected your eyes to still be on him. Law was turning as red as a tomato. The warm feeling was everywhere again. And now he really couldn't be sure if his gray eyes hadn't turned into big hearts.

Because you were looking at him. And he looked back.

A small smile flitted across your face.

And Law awkwardly smiled back.

The cold and the storm were long forgotten. While the others were freezing and dreaming of warm summer light or cozy blankets,

two pirates were infinitely warm.

[dawneternal]

And Yesterday You Were Here With Me

you were bigger than the whole sky / you were more than just a short time

✦ Azriel x Reader. Platonic Cassian x Reader, Nesta being a good friend.

✦ this one is a bit vulnerable to share. It's definitely something I wrote to process some of my own grief. (Hopefully it's not disrespectful to post this the day after mother's day) Take care of yourself and don't read if it will trigger you 💛

✦ Warnings: miscarriage, description of miscarriage/blood, grief and loss

✦ Read on AO3

You sit frozen, staring down at the crimson marbling the water in the toilet, struggling to breathe properly.

It was only last night that you had put the pieces together. Your late cycle, nausea, and fatigue. The strange gut feeling that something was off, but not in a bad way. In a new way - a different way. You immediately planned to try and see a healer here in the Day Court while on your mission with Cassian. That way you could return to Night and tell Azriel right away. You could barely sleep, excitement and nervousness filling every inch of your being as you tried to think up a clever or funny way to tell your mate.

And now all of those hopes and plans had crumbled, slipping through your fingers before you could catch them. Now, sitting on the toilet and feeling the cramps crashing through your body, you understood how quickly your heart had filled with love for this little possibility.

Before the full impact of it had even hit you, before you had even left the bathroom, you found yourself wishing you could skip ahead a month or a year. Because once the grief began, you knew it was going to be almost unbearable.

•✦•✦•✦•

You padded toward the door to the room next to yours, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you knocked. The door swung open wide and Cassian appeared. His smile quickly turned to confusion as he registered your bare legs, oversized t-shirt just barely covering your underwear. You had meant to put your shorts back on but they were forgotten on the bathroom floor in your flurry of emotion.

Cassian grasped your arm and pulled you into his room, looking both ways down the hall before he closed it behind him.

"What are you doing?" He asked in bewilderment, whirling around to look at you.

"We have to go right now. I need Azriel." You cursed your wavering voice. You were trying desperately to hold it together. Not to send anything down the bond and worry Azriel.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Cassian's face softened, confusion turning to concern as he inspected you for injury, eyes skimming over your trembling form, the hem of your shirt bunched in your fists.

"I-" You knew he was going to ask but the question broke you anyways. You slid to the floor, lip quivering. The thick carpet was rough against your bare legs.

A sob wracked your body as the grief began, dark churning waves swallowing you whole. There was no stopping it, no turning back. Almost immediately, you felt a questioning tug on the golden thread in your chest.

Cassian crouched beside you, elbows resting on his knees. He didn't speak for a moment, trying to decipher the scene, grimacing at the sorrowful cry you let out.

"Your cycle?" He asked, his voice gravelly. You could tell from the worry in his tone that he already knew the answer but you shook your head anyways. He could smell it. The blood and the loss.

"How long have you...." His voice drifts off, like the rest of the question would only break you further. It probably would.

"Last night," You manage between gasps, tears wetting your face and neck, leaving dark spots on your collar.

"Are you in any pain?" He asks, and you nod again, clutching your lower stomach in answer.

Cassian stands and disappears. You can hear sounds of rummaging, zipping and scraping as you bury your face in your hands. Azriel's questioning pulls are growing closer together and more frantic.

Cassian returns with his pack slung over his shoulder, a pair of his sweatpants in hand. He grabs your shoulders gently and pulls you up. Then he holds out the sweatpants for you to step into, letting you brace yourself on his shoulders. He scoops you up without a word and you let your head fall against his shoulder, tears never ceasing.

•✦•✦•✦•

The House of Wind comes into view and Cassian can make out Azriel, pacing back and forth on the balcony. As soon as you are close enough, his shadows dart toward you in the sky, circling to check for injuries. You're not sure what they'll tell him.

Cassian lands smoothly and you are instantly handed to Azriel, his familiar warmth pulling a fresh wave of tears down your face. His anxious face is looking down at you and can't stand the tenderness, letting your eyes close. He's whispering with Cassian and you can't hear what they're saying inside your bubble of grief. But you feel a wave of sorrow through the bond and you silently thank Cassian for saying the words you couldn't conjure.

Azriel is taking you inside, holding you tightly against him, and you can hear the sound of beating wings as Cassian takes off again.

You hear the thud of Az's boots on the floor, then you're shifting in his arms as he sits cross legged on the couch and pulls you into his lap. You pull your knees to your chest and he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm sorry," you croak, voice hoarse from crying.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," His deep voice rumbles in his chest and the vibrations are comforting. His fingers are running through your hair, soft kisses pressed to your forehead. His other hand rubs your back in soothing circles.

Cassian returns soon with Madja, carrying her bag of supplies. You are looking deliberately anywhere but at their faces, not able to bear any sadness or compassion you might find. Such shame has enveloped you, but you're not even sure what for. You don't have the words for it.

She lets you stay in Azriel's arms as she examines you. Her hands glow with a golden aura as she moves them up and down, then centers them over your lower abdomen. You feel a strange tingling as her magic pulses through you, returning back to her with information about your condition. The room is silent as she works, watching and waiting.

When Madja is done, she runs a tender hand across your forehead, brushing your hair back from your face.

"You were right, dear," She says, her voice is kind but with no pity like you feared, "A miscarriage. An early one, likely about six to eight weeks. They're sadly very common in early pregnancy."

Azriel's hands tighten around you, your gaze too focused on the healer to see the tremble of his bottom lip. But Cassian sees it, and it splits his heart in two. Madja places a few vials on the coffee table and continues,

"Take one of these a day and they'll help with the pain and ward off infection. You'll want to keep in mind that your emotions may be a little high as your hormones even back out. And plan for your next cycle to be extra heavy. I'd like to see you around that time to make sure all is well."

You nod, biting your bottom lip to keep the crying from starting again. You want to ask her about the overwhelming sorrow you feel, if that's normal or not. But she presses a hand to your cheek and gives you a sad smile and you understand that she knows what you're feeling.

"I'm sorry for your loss, my dear," she says, then turns to Azriel and presses her hand to his face in turn, "I know that you don't need my warning, because you're a good man and you'll support her. But don't for a moment let her believe that this was her fault. There was nothing anyone could have done, and now she needs to rest and heal. And you take care of yourself, as well."

You look up at Azriel's face and watch him give a grave nod. He looks down at you, a few tears falling down his face, and you wipe them away as your own begin again.

•✦•✦•✦•

The next few days are spent in your shared room, curled up in the bed. Mourning, crying, sometimes smiling and laughing over daydreams of what could have been. Your beautiful possibility.

Your fear of Azriel's reaction entirely melts away. He grieves with you, tenderly reassures you that you've done nothing wrong. That when the time comes again you'll make a wonderful mother and he'll welcome the new life with you. He begins the habit of calling your lost one your little star. It somehow soothes and sharpens the pain at the same time.

You did not know it was possible to miss something you'd only had for such a short time. To feel such an unbearable amount of love for something you had not even held in your arms. And you knew the love would not go away even though your little star was no longer with you. All of that love would stay in your heart until your last day on earth, and beyond that it would burn in the sky as a glittering star when you were finally reunited with your baby. Someday, you would grow around the grief and your body would learn to hold it with less pain, but until then your very bones would ache with the loss.

•✦•✦•✦•

When you're ready, a handful of your friends gather with you to say goodbye. Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta follow you to the Sidra under the full moon. They were the only ones who knew, yet. In time you'd tell all of them, but it was all too fragile still. You couldn't even think the words without a lump forming in your throat. Rhys knew and had sent his condolences, and you suspected his absence was out of respect to your privacy.

Nesta and Feyre had helped you begin to return to normal, coming over in the morning to braid your hair and make sure you had breakfast. Even though Azriel had never left your side. Slowly, the shock faded away into the dull ache of mourning, the numbness in your body giving way to the aftermath of its loss.

Today, Nesta held your coat out for you and tucked your scarf around your neck. When you slip your hands into your pockets, you find something waiting for you. You pull it out, holding it flat in your palm to examine.

A bracelet. Strands of light pink, light blue, and gold woven together. A tiny golden star charm dangled from it. You look at Nesta with a wobbly chin, eyes glistening, and she smiles, giving your arm a squeeze.

Now, you kneel at the edge of the Sidra, near the mouth of the river pouring into the sea. The moonlight dances on the gently flowing water, stars glimmering as far as the eye could see.

You murmur your prayer and place your lantern in the water, watching the current carry it away to the sea. Azriel sits beside you and pulls you tight against his side, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. His tears are cold against your skin. You watch the little light drift away toward the horizon, staying until the cold of the ground seeps through your shoes and the lantern has long since disappeared.

Mother hold you, little star. May she greet you with all the love and tenderness I cannot give you, and may she keep you close until I leave this earth and come to meet you. As long as I am breathing, you will not leave my heart for a moment.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 22, Untold - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, strippers,

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Tony expressed his concerns about you going on this mission.

A/N: When Tony Met Pocket!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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Boston, 2002

The bass inside the club was pounding, reverberating through the air and your skull as you made your way onto the floor. The day had already been unbearably long, and after your shift tonight, you still had a mountain of reading to do for your Introduction to Data Structures and Algorithms class. But, MIT courses didn’t come cheap, even at two classes a semester, and you needed every penny you could make from your shifts at Beantown Burlesque. It would make more sense, financially, to work a club closer to the college, but the idea of running into any of your classmates or, god forbid, your professors, made the extra time and money you spent commuting from Cambridge to inner Boston completely worth it. 

Not that you expected a lot of tips tonight. It would have been better if you’d been scheduled to work the stage before they sent you to the floor; you were always requested for more lap dances after the patrons had seen you work the pole. You’d just have to work your ass off to entice a couple of lonely men into the VIP booth. But that always came with the additional task of fighting off requests for additional “services.” You may have been desperate for cash, but you were quite done with having your body sold for money, thank you.

You made your way over to the bar, hoping to get some intel on tonight’s patrons so you could shoot your best shot. 

“How’s it goin’ tonight, Cherry Pie?” the bartender, Mac, asked, using the pseudonym you’d chosen for your stage name when you started at the club a year ago. 

“No complaints yet, Mac,” you said, gratefully accepting the glass of water he offered you– it was important to stay hydrated, after all, “but then again, the night is very young.”

Mac let out a gruff laugh as he wiped down a glass. “You’re too young to be so cynical, Cherr,” he said.

You shrugged. That was an understatement. “Any good prospects tonight?” you asked, leaning your elbows on the bartop.

Mac nodded his chin toward a group of young men sitting close to the stage. “That group over there’s racked up a pretty big tab so far. Think they’re from the MIT alumni conference.” That piqued your interest. Beantown Burlesque might not be the ideal place to network, but you’d honestly take whatever you could get.

“They seem decent enough?” you asked Mac.

“About as decent as any group of blokes that come here,” he offered. “But they’ve been pretty respectful so far; no one’s tried to put hands anywhere they shouldn’t.”

“Good enough for me,” you told him. With a parting wave, you sauntered over to the group, making sure to put some extra sway in your hips. As you approached, you surveyed the collection of men. They all seemed to be centering their focus on one man in particular– he was dark haired with a goatee and wearing a pair of tinted glasses and looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t place where you might have seen him before. You clocked his expensive loafers and custom Armani suit, and the way the others around him laughed a little too loudly at what he was saying. 

That’s the one, you thought to yourself. He had the money. If you were going to make your rent on time this month, he was the one you’d need to impress.

“You boys fancy some company tonight?” you asked once you approached the group. The man with the goatee leaned forward, a sure sign of interest, and looked at you over the lens of his glasses.

“Well, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk, “we're not ones to turn down an offer for good companionship, especially from someone as captivating as you. But let's be real, the question is whether you can keep up with us. Think you're ready for the challenge?”

Oh, this one was cocky. You could work with that. You trailed your fingertips along the tops of his shoulders as you made your way around to the table in front of him. Without breaking eye contact, you picked up the double shot of whiskey sitting there and downed the entire thing in one swig without flinching.

The other men in the group whooped and hollered at your display, but the man with the goatee just studied you with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

“You can call me Cherry Pie,” you said as you began swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music coming through the speakers. 

“I didn’t ask what they call you here,” he said, leaning back as you put your hands on his shoulder and began swaying in between his legs. “I asked for your name.”

“You haven’t spent nearly enough to earn that, honey,” you said as you gyrated. 

The man laughed at that, then, reaching for his wallet, pulled out a handful of crisp, one hundred dollar bills. He gently tucked them into the waistband of your bottoms. “How’s that?”

You looked at the bills tucked into your underwear. By your guess, there was about eight hundred dollars there. You just might make rent, after all. “It’s a start,” you shrugged, beginning your tried and true lap dance routine.

One of the other men in the group let out a loud laugh. “She’s sure got your number, Stark!”

At the name, your eyes shot to the man with the goatee’s face, and it suddenly clicked for you. “Holy shit,” you breathed. “You’re Tony Stark.”

Stark smiled. “Guilty as charged, sweetheart.”

“Your company’s network security sucks ass,” you told him, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “Excuse me?”

Fuck. “Uh, nothing, sorry. Forget I said anything.” You put a renewed vigor back into your dance.

“Um, no.” Stark said, grasping your wrist firmly enough to encourage you to stop dancing, but gently enough to let you know he posed you no threat. “I want to hear how a stripper knows the faults of my network security.”

You blushed at that. “I, uh, may have broken in the back door and temporarily held your system hostage for ten minutes last May,” you confessed.

“That was you?” Stark exclaimed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounded… impressed. “You paralyzed our entire operation!”

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Well, you could kiss any further tips goodbye, that was for sure.

“Why’d you relinquish control back to us?” he asked. “You could have held it for ransom; we would have paid whatever you asked for.”

Huh. You had never even considered doing that. “Well, um, actually, I did it as part of a final project? For my Engineering Ethics and Professionalism course at MIT?”

Stark cocked his head at you. “With Erickson?” You nodded, and Stark actually laughed. “He still a narcissistic son of a bitch?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Sexist, too. He nearly shat a brick when he had to watch a mere girl bring a Fortune 500 company to its knees.”

Stark laughed, heartily. “I’ll bet he did! What I wouldn’t have given to see his face!”

“I set up a camera to record it,” you told him. “I can make you a copy of the VHS, if you want. I needed to capture the moment for posterity.”

From there, the atmosphere and your position in the group shifted. You were no longer the entertainment. Tony (he insisted you call him that) invited you to join him as his equal, and for the next several hours, he picked your brain, testing your knowledge and asking you questions about yourself, much to the displeasure of the rest of his group. One by one, they departed, until it was just the two of you. You were having the time of your life. You figured you’d never again have the opportunity to sit back and just hang out with such an icon of the tech community, and you were going to make the most of it. Now, here you were playing a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Never have I ever sheared a sheep,” Tony said with a grin.

“Why, Mr. Stark,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips (you failed to mention that, technically, you weren’t legally old enough to drink), “you haven’t truly lived until you’ve shorn the raw wool from an unwilling ewe.”

“You’re shitting me,” Tony said, laughing.

You took the glass from your lips without drinking. “You got me,” you told him. I grew up in Dayton. Not a whole lotta opportunities for sheep shearing there.”

A mischievous glint came into Tony’s eyes. “Your shift’s got to be almost over,” he said. “What do you say, Cherry Pie? Wanna go shear a sheep?”

“(Y/N),” you told him. “My name’s (Y/N), and I would fucking love to.”

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