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onlyswan · 7 months

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summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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buckymorelikefuckme · 1 year

Text

cry baby

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.

a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”

it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.

you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”

she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.

“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”

natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”

“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”

“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”

you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”

natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”

“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”

nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.

sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.

“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.

he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”

bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.

“i’ll murder you,” you promise.

“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.

you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.

bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“that bad, huh?” he asks.

you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.

“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”

you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”

“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”

“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”

it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.

“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”

you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”

this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”

the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.

“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.

“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”

if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.

“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.

“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.

“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.

you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”

“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”

“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.

“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”

bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”

“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.

“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.

you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”

he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”

“what?”

just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.

his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”

“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”

“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”

“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.

he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”

“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.

“think about it?” he implores.

you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”

he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.

needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.

***

you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?

it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.

but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?

bucky: experience?

you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.

you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?

bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.

you: says you

bucky: and a few other people :)

bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you

you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.

you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…

bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.

your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.

bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?

biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.

it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.

you: okay. we’ll try.

***

it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.

(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)

you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.

you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.

by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.

he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”

“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”

he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.

“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.

bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”

you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.

“nervous?” he wonders curiously.

you shake your head. “not really.”

he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”

he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.

with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”

“you can’t really promise that, though.”

“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”

you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.

you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.

“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.

you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”

his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.

“great! finish your wine.”

you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.

“let’s do this,” you say, determined.

bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.

“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”

“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”

“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.

he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.

it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.

he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.

“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”

you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.

his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.

you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”

bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”

your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.

quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.

“my turn,” he says against your lips.

carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.

“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.

shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.

he hums. “beautiful.”

he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.

you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.

“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.

“hm?”

you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.

“please,” you whimper.

“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.

“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.

his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”

“bucky,” you whine.

“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”

when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.

“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.

“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”

he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”

he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.

“may i?”

“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.

he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.

“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”

a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.

a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.

“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.

bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.

just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.

your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.

bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”

you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.

“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”

you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.

“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.

he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”

“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.

he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.

“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.

he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.

you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.

instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.

“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.

bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.

unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.

it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.

bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.

you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.

“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.

you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.

“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”

when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.

“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”

“i literally just did the impossible.”

“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.

he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”

“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.

“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.

you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.

“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.

he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”

well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.

***

except, things kinda change between the two of you.

it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.

another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.

“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”

he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”

“oh,” you said again. “okay.”

so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.

in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?

a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.

but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.

“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“

when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.

“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.

whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.

you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.

“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”

“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.

he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.

“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”

you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.

and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.

“what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”

as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.

“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.

“okay,” you reply after a moment.

he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.

it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.

you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.

he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.

“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”

you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.

“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.

the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.

“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.

you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.

you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.

as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.

bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.

hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.

***

bucky: dinner tonight?

you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.

you: sure. what time?

bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.

reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.

bucky: dress nice ;)

with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.

by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.

“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”

he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.

“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”

he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.

this was going to suck.

the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…

conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.

after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.

“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”

oh fuck, here it goes.

“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”

“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.

“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”

did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.

“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”

you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.

bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”

“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.

“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”

“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”

bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”

“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”

bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.

“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”

“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.

he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”

“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”

he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.

smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.

“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.

“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.

“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”

“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”

“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.

“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”

you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”

“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”

you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”

he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”

bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”

he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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heartss4val · 8 months

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— GENERAL DATING HC'S (part two)

pairing: percy jackson, annabeth chase, leo valdez, piper mclean, jason grace, hazel levesque, frank zhang (respectively) x gn!reader word count: 3.9k

percy jackson

if anyone is boyfriend coded it's percy.

the way percy immediately squeezes your hand to call your attention the second he spots something he knows you'd love. whether it's your favorite song playing in a store, or the sight of pretty flowers in full bloom, percy's just as excited as you are !!

for some reason, percy really likes to shower you with hugs. whether you're out in public or nestled comfortably in your own cabin, he's quick to wrap his arms around you and hold you close! you can feel his warmth radiating against your skin as he presses his body close to yours, his face nuzzled snugly in the crook of your neck. he just doesn't want to let you go, at least not yet. maybe it's because he feels safe when he's holding onto you, and he doesn't want that feeling to disappear so quickly. not that you mind, though.

percy loovvees to hold your hand in public, like he literally can't get enough of it. no matter where you go, he would effortlessly slip his hand into yours, the coolness of his palm making contact with your own as you walk side by side through camp.

i feel like percy's hands are pretty cool to the touch, so during the colder months he likes to hold your hand and tuck it in his pocket to shield you from the cold. like, he doesn't want to let go, but he also doesn't want you to freeze LMAOO.

percy's kisses are varied. sometimes they're slow, sometimes they're quick or urgent, and a whole lot more. but each time, they're exhilarating. percy also has a habit of pulling and playing with your belt or waistband whenever you kiss, and it always catches you off guard, no matter how many times it happens. even when you're in the middle of doing something else, he'll grab you by the waistband and pull you in for a kiss. and when he's not tugging on it, he'll run his fingers around it, dragging his fingers around the fabric almost teasingly, LIKE GAH ZAMN.

percy lets you draw on his skateboard!! listen, i know he's only mentioned as a skater like twice in the book, but i don't care. he is a skater boy in my heart.

his skateboard is absolutely LITTERED with doodles of your favorite bands, or any other designs that came to mind, as well as temporary stickers that are already starting to fade. but percy doesn't mind at all because it looks cool and you're happy! so that's all that matters to him. he loves looking down at the marks you left on his skateboard with a stupid smile, even if it means he gets hit by a wall because he wasn't paying attention.

when percy is in love, it becomes evident in his every action. he makes it a point to look for your face throughout the day, be it in moments of triumph or defeat. he only wants for you to witness him at his best, and no amount of applause or pats on the back from others can compare to the feeling of your touch; the gentle caress of your thumb across his cheek accompanied by words of praise, are what he craves the most. :(( he wants your validation and approval, but struggles to express it, because behind his front lies just an awkward teen filled with doubts and insecurities, desperate to prove himself to you.

but when he's in the water?? in his ZONE?? that's a different story. his confidence level SOARS. his water powers are in full force, and he's flipping around in the water trying to impress you like a little kid LMAOO.

to percy, you're more than just his partner. the thought of living without you is unimaginable to him, and he refuses to even think about it. his love for you only grows with each passing day, and he swears that he couldn't love you more than already does, yet he knows that he will tomorrow.

annabeth chase

MY GF FR!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

annabeth always loved you, but as time went on, her perspective on you began to shift. she loved the sound of your laughter, and the way you would enthusiastically recount your experiences of the day. there was something in the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, that made her heart skip a beat. at first, she didn't recognize the emotions that were building within her, but the second she tried to deny being in love with you, she realized she was.

meeting you, loving you, finally making you hers—made annabeth have a whole different perspective on love.

she always asks for your opinions first. all the time. she asks for your thoughts on her latest architectural design, questions your perspective on her favorite book. because she values YOU. your input matteres to her more than anyone else's because she knows that you understood her in a way that no one else could. (also i feel like annabeth lowkey mansplains sometimes so she's trying to make up for it lmaoo.)

if your hair is long enough to tie back, she'll match your ponytail to hers. <33 but if not, she'll run her fingers through your hair instead, twirling the edges around her finger absentmindedly. annabeth doesn't like accessories in her own hair, but she loves seeing them in yours !!

she's VERY careful when tidying up your hair. like, if you ask her to brush your hair for you, it'll take her a while because she's so particular about it. she just wants the best for you!! <3

annabeth is the best with cats idc. (doesn't she have two in ttc?) she'll kneel down to pet it, making that "pspspsps" sound to get its attention LMAOO. she'll literally scoop it up in her arms and cradle it like a baby.

if you're allergic to cats or simply don't like them, she'll keep a distance and pretend to share your dislike, meanwhile, she'll already have come up with a cute name for the cat in her head, probably something similar to your own. <33

annabeth isn't really big on pda, but she makes up for it with other acts of love !! she has a variety of love languages, each more prominent than the next, but her go-to move is holding hands. she'll gently pull you along on your museum date, explaining the origins and details of each monument with a proud smile !!

you and annabeth gossip about books. not people. and yes, i am telling the truth, she told me herself. (lie) she'll even read to you while you lay your head on her lap JUST so that you two can talk about it later.

but when it comes to architectural books, sometimes annabeth forgets that not everyone is as passionate about architecture as she is LMAOO. she'd be like, "can you believe that John Poulson bribed people for his work? i would never stoop to that level," and you'd just be sitting there with a polite smile on your face even though you have no idea wtf she's talking about. but she does it because she trusts you, not because she wants to confuse you LMAOO.

annabeth is never easily vocal when it comes to her emotions. while she can be sharp-tongued when expressing her opinions, when it comes to her feelings, most of the time she struggles to find the right words. sometimes, she's not even sure how to articulate what she's experiencing. the sudden rush of emotions she's feeling now, with you, can be overwhelming, to say the least. her love for you is intense, but annabeth wonders if it's enough to fully convey how much she loves you. if she loved you any less, maybe it would be easier for her to express herself. but the truth is, she loves you so much that it leaves her at a loss for words. a daughter of athena. at a loss for words.

leo valdez

this boy practically has permanent heart eyes for you — it's insane.

i think we all know this, but leo's definitely not one to hide his admiration for you. he's basically in a constant state of awe whenever you're around. he thinks you're the absolute prettiest person on earth, and he's LOUD about it. like, before you started dating he definitely looked up one of those cringe pick up line lists at least once in hopes of impressing you. (they didn't work.)

howeverrr, leo's affection for you runs deeper than just your physical appearance. you're not just eye candy to him. he values your inner qualities just as much as your outer ones, and he's always reminding you about it !!

mentioned this in pt 1, but this boy is an incredible cook and EVERYONE knows it. because of that, he's super perceptive when it comes to your food preferences, knowing exactly what dishes you love and those that you don't care for. he'll transfer food from his plate to yours because he wants you to enjoy your meal, and he'll and also happily devour any food that you dislike, while simultaneously insulting your taste LMAOO.

like one time you went to the bathroom, came back, and saw that the amount of your favorite food on your plate just doubled. 💀💀

leo loovvees taking photos of you. (let's pretend demigods are allowed to use phones) like, he'll snap away until his phone's storage is filled to the absolute BRIM. if you ask him to delete any unflattering ones, he'll do so but while fervently defending his collection, insisting that he takes so many pictures of you not because he's searching for the perfect shot, but because you look breathtaking from every angle. :((

in addition to his digital collection, leo also has a cherished polaroid board covered in various pictures, but the majority of them feature you. <33

leo spends a lot of time tinkering in his workshop, so if he has any scrap metal laying around (which he often does) he'll stay up late into the night creating something special just for you !!

leo looovveess kissing your cheek with a pronounced "mmMWAH!" sound. onces he's done, he'll turn his head slightly and look at you expectantly, indicating that he wants you to do the same to him. <33

he was probably the first one to say "i love you." in the relationship. he might've said it rather quickly because he was always sure about his feelings towards you even before your relationship had officially started, but he never pressured you to reciprocate. he was willing to wait for you to come to your own conclusion.

but until then, leo never stopped expressing his love for you. every morning and every night, he would whisper a giddy "i love you, mi amor" before rushing off to wherever he needed to be.

once you do finally say the words back to him though, he's grinning like an idiot for an entire two weeks. he'd often repeat his feelings for you, almost annoyingly, just to hear you say those four words he cherished the most back, 'i love you too.'

(also, this image is so leo. yes it's a green flag to me, and no i will not further elaborate.)

piper mclean

piper has a habit of linking arms with you !! like, wherever you go, the two of you are literally inseparable. she also sees it as a way to declare your relationship, because she's proud to be with you and has nothing to hide! <33 she's also a hand swinger fr.

she lets you cut her hair !!! mostly because she secretly loves the sensation of your hands on her face and your fingers weaving through her choppy locks, but also because she trusts your judgement! piper isn't afraid of alternating her appearance, but she especially want to look good for you.

speaking of alternating appearances, you two match outfits. all the time. is it sickenly cheesy? yes. do either of you particularly care? no. even when you aren't wearing matching outfits, you both have a collection of homemade matching jewelry, so both of you are always carrying a piece of each other, even if it's just a simple bracelet. <33

NICKNAMES IN FRENCH >>>> OMGG. her most used include "mon amour" meaning "my love", "mon ange" [my angel] and "ma chérie." [my dear/darling] and yes she is very much aware of the effect she has on you. <33 speaking of, she 100% helps you ace all your french exams. such a good gf.

she tells you all about her family history. piper loves how your eyes light up with genuine curiosity. with you, she feels more appreciated. :(( she'll you all about the culture, customs, and even a few traditional songs.

piper knows she has a good singing voice, but she still feels self-conscious whenever she showcases them in front of others. but when it comes to you? she'll sing all you want, since she feels a huge sense of comfort whenever you're around. whether it's through cuddles or other means, it's in your arms that she feels the most at peace, and it's also where she feels the most comfortable saying, "i love you." !!!

she teaches you how to use a dagger lmaoo. she'll carefully guide you, tell you how good you're doing (sometimes), and even sneak in a few kisses if she's feeling extra affectionate that day!!

piper hates being labeled as a typical daughter of aphrodite. she constantly feels the need to prove that she doesn't fall into the stereotype that comes with being a child of the goddess of love. but ever since you came into her life, ever since she started loving you, you taught her that she doesn't have to be ashamed just because her half-siblings fall into certain expectations. you've shown her that she should be able to be her own person without the restraints of being a daughter of aphrodite. and she might not always express it, but she's entirely grateful for that. for you. after all, we're all just fools in love, and you're the soul who showed her what love should truly be like.

jason grace

ugh, the chivalry radiating off this man is crazyy.

whenever you talk to jason, he always has a way of letting you know that he's listening to your every word. even if he's occupied with something else, he'll make a point to let you know that he is paying attention to you. he'll immediately direct his gaze towards you, and abandon whatever task he was previously engaged in, leaning in closer to you the longer you speak.

even if you try to cut your story short or apologize for repeating yourself, jason will NEVER rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. instead, he'll hold you close with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, encouraging you to keep talking and sharing your thoughts. because jason doesn't mind hearing the same stories over and over again, as long as they're coming from you. <33

and even though he's always paying full attention whenever you speak, his gaze always seems to settle on your lips. and when you smile or laugh, he's completely mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off of you !! like you can LITERALLY see his eyes widen and his lips part, as if he can't believe how beautiful you are, because he can't get enough of you.

jason is the epitome of a gentleman FR!! 🗣️🗣️ he never fails to open doors for you, give you his jacket when you're cold, and even offer his hand as you make your way down the last few steps of the stairs. but that's only the surface level, we haven't even gotten to the real deal yet okayyy??

if you so much as utter a complaint about your feet aching or your shoes being too uncomfortable, he's already kneeling down, his broad back facing you with his hands gesturing for you to climb on for a piggy-back ride. he'll be running around camp like a lunatic, carrying you on his back or in his arms, but he doesn't care because he always puts your comfort and safety first !!

and if you happen to be walking through a cramped space with him in front of you, he effortlessly lifts you up by your arms so you can pass through without any trouble! what's even more impressive is jason's lightning-fast reflexes, especially when it comes to protecting you. if something is about to fall on you, he's always there to catch it before it can even graze you. and if you happen to trip, he swiftly catches you in his arms without making a fuss !!

his protective nature extends to the battlefield as well. even though he knows you're more than capable of defending yourself, he fights alongside you, ready to shield you from ANY harm.

whenever you hug jason, you always get lifted off the ground a few inches. like he almost doesn't realize he's doing it as he hoists you up off the ground with EASE. while you're just dangling from his arms LMAOO.

jason never fails to express his love for you verbally every day, but he also has a way of communicating it without speaking a word. he'll naturally reaches for your hand under the table, stealing quick kisses on your shoulder when no one is watching. even the way he touches you lingers, like he doesn't want to let go. and when you catch him gazing at you, and the transition of his grin to a subtle smirk AURGHJ!!

even before you started dating, jason fell for you and is honestly still falling, wanting you more and more with each passing day. all your flaws, mistakes, and imperfections included, he wants you. and only you.

hazel levesque

hazel is the best gf ever!!! she hypes you up every chance she gets. like, she literally never misses an opportunity to boost your confidence. she finds beauty in the most subtle things, like the tiniest ring on your finger, and truly believes that you look absolutely stunning in it, even if it's not her personal taste since she grew up in a different era. but she's so open to exploring new fashion styles and modern ideas for you, and also so that you guys can match. <33

whenever hazel leans in to kiss you, there's a touch of hesitancy in her movements. not because she doesn't want to kiss you !! she just wants to make sure you're comfortable. :(( she's clearly trying to gauge your reaction and make sure that everything is going well.

she worries that maybe she was too rough last time, (SHE WASN'T AT ALL LMAOO) or that she's moving too slowly this time around. you honestly find it cute how she worries about such small things, and in response, you wrap your arms around her and kiss her back, immediately dispersing ALL her concerns. <33

hazel is soo pretty in red lipstick omg. the way she leaves lipstick prints on your cheeks and playfully pecks at the skin on your neck while laughing is so cute!

hazel wants the absolute best for you! but don't underestimate her, this is the same girl who died to stop gaea at 13, okay? she's so brave. she respects all your boundaries and will always prioritize your safety and comfort first!

horseback riding. all the time. hazel is the only valid horsegirl. she'll go on and on about them, from their behavior and habits to their history.. but nothing makes her happier than seeing you genuinely interested in what she has to say!! she feels so special around you. :(( you've spend countless afternoons horseback riding with hazel. it's definitely one of your favorite pastimes now.

hehe i can definitely see you sharing your interests to her, and even introducing her to modern music/bands. it's probably a shock for hazel to switch time periods and witness the evolution of music. like, there are times when modern songs makes her all shy and stuff. but your love for it has definitely been able to sway her perspectives! she probably picks up matching band shirts or records as souvenirs when returning from her quests. <33

hazel loves hugs !! they often begin with excitement, both of you giggling like children. but as time passes, the embrace transforms into a soft and quiet hold. there's always a subtle competition between the two of you to see who will let go first, and hazel always emerges as the winner. <33

if forever does exist, hazel wants it to be you. her heart is overflowing with a million emotions, all of which are directed towards you. through your gentle guidance, she's learned to appreciate the beauty in even the most ordinary moments. the thought of losing you is unbearable. she never wants to let go of you. not now. not ever.

frank zhang

your guys' first date was definitely at an arcade/amusement park! he's hardcore blushing the entire time, while you totally crush him at all the activities. (he let you win) and, to top it off, he made sure to win you some impressive, oversized stuffed animals at the end!!

frank would pay close attention to all the details about you. like he literally knows stuff that you don't even remember telling him. 💀 even if you mention something in passing conversation, he'll make a mental note of it and remember it later on.

protective!frank standing up for others. anyone he cares about, including his friends and you. :(( he's not an angry person, sometimes he's even a little timid, so seeing him all loyal & passionate for those he loves really makes your heart swell up.

frank also leaves you sweet little notes frequently, and goes out of his way to get you lunch or anything else you might need !! sometimes after a long day, he'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder and asking about your day. <33

bear hugs are frank's thing. both literally and figuratively. he's the kinda person who would wrap his arms around you, and if you don't object, he'll keep holding you tightly while taking a few steps to maintain balance. and before you know it, you'll both be tumbling onto the couch or his bed, with his chest breaking your fall. but instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable, both of you start laughing, with frank hugging your waist even tighter in affection. <33

frank is really protective but in a subtle, non-verbal way. like, he has a habit of wordlessly moving you to the safer side of the sidewalk. and, even if it is not yet dark outside, frank will insist on walking you home, making sure that you arrive safely. he doesn't want to be overbearing, but he's also just genuinely concerned about your safety. :((

frank isn't really a pda guy, but he absolutely adores hand holding! it's a subtle way of indicating that he's yours and you're his. also, there's just something comforting about the feeling of your palm against his, and he finds himself tracing the curvatures of your hand as like it's a map he's trying to memorize. it's a small gesture, but it means the world to him !!

frank does almost every subtle manner. oh, you need a hair tie? he's pulling off one of yours from his wrist. having trouble carrying groceries? he's already there. it's like he has a 6th sense for when you're even slightly uncomfortable.

you're frank's safe place. he can literally feel his worries and fears melt away as you hold each other. you're all he ever wanted love to be, and he knows that as long as he lives, he'll love you.

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90ekz · 4 months

Text

BLEED INTO ME!

in which… ony is your vampire boyfriend, and he tends to overfeed, even when you tell him not to. guess you have to teach him a lesson, yeah?

word count: 3.4k (WOAH?)

content. smut + plot, sub!vamp!ony, light angst, nicknames (baby, princess, ma, pa, pretty), dacryphillia, heavy discussion of wounds and injury, established relationship, n-word usage, hematolagnia & blood consumption, black!domfem!reader, overstimulation, handcuffs, light feminization, handjobs, male squirting, dry humping.

syno speaks. i really apologize for the delay on this, but i hope y’all love it! thank you for all the support :) btw, i know some people are squeamish about blood, so if that bothers you in any way you may need to avoid reading this. kk that’s all, love y’all 💋

ony annoys the fuck outta you.

he always has, ever since he came shimmying through your houses’ chimney while you’d fallen asleep on the couch watching your favorite movie. the action hadn’t even registered in your bleary mind until he was poking his sharpened talon against your cheek, silently praying that you’d wake up so he could explain his current situation.

the poachers were running a muck on the town, and they were out to kill any and every vampire they could find.

ony, specifically, had been a prime target, due to him being the only full-breed left in the country. he had been on the run for months now, and whether it was finding caves to sleep in or crashing at his boys’ houses when he could, he’d been keeping his distance between him and the enemy, until now.

he’s suddenly awoken in his cave to the sound of heavy footsteps clammering against floors of the gravel, and he recognized the sound like his own voice. he wasn’t quick enough to move out of their line of sight before he was shot in his stomach and chased through town, only getting away once he saw your house with an easy entrance.

“hey, wake the hell up.” ony complained, his jabs slowly getting softer as he took in the state of your sprawled out body.

your appearance should be the least of his worries right now, but you were so captivating. even with the droop of your plump lips, and the way your blanket was completely kicked off you, revealing only a crop top and shorts. your curves were on full display, and he felt his fingers itch with the need to touch, to mark.

as your eyes blinked open, ony hovered over your frame, drool pooling in his mouth as he patiently waited for your full awakening.

“oh, look who decided to join us.”

silence stretched over the room for an unbearable amount of time as your brain caught up to what exactly you were looking at, and you were scrambling to your feet and behind the couch. you were swift on your feet, and suddenly ony had a knife barreling toward his head that he barely dodged. the knife cemented itself into the wall, a reverberated sound bouncing against both of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house!” you gritted out, trying to keep your voice even. ony’s eyes are wide as he flicks his attention between you and the literal machete in the wall, what just happened?

“can you, uh, let me explain first?” ony presses on as he tried to ignore the way your voice was calling to him like a siren song. something about you was making his knees physically weak, but he would figure that out later when you weren’t ready to chuck another knife at him.

“explain what—you’re a random nigga in my house! how did you even get in here?!”

“the chimney, look can you just calm down—shit.” ony doubled over, as more blood started to leak from his wound. he hadn’t been fed in over a month, and was now losing his own blood. his regeneration isn’t as effective when he’s hungry, but he couldn’t risk going to some hospital to get help either.

you let a gasp slip out as you saw his hand clutches against his stomach, and you warily made your way over to his crumpling form.

“fuck, is that a bullet wound? i’ll um—let me go get some gauze, don’t move.” you rushed into a room outside of ony’s field of vision, and just as suddenly as you left, you were helping him to the couch. ony flopped down, quiet curses falling out of his mouth. you felt your cheeks heat as you removed what was left of his shirt and inspected his wound. it wasn’t too deep, and you were able to pull the bullet out with your tweezers without much effort.

the rest of the process was seamless, and ony was left relatively feeling impressed as he eyed the stained gauze wrapping his stomach. you even handed him a glass of water, and kneeled by him on the floor. you were so caring, and his stomach was in knots at your close proximity.

you kept making eyes at him like you wanted to ask something, until you finally did.

“what the hell happened to you?” your voice was much softer this time around, and ony was definitely a bigger fan of this tone. ony hooked his pointer finger into the corner of his mouth to reveal one of his pearly white fangs, his tongue lolling out involuntarily.

“poachers.”

he really did owe you a better explanation, but his head was much too fuzzy from hunger and blood loss to fully spit out that whole monologue. plus, your cheeks were now stained burgundy with shyness and another emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and you looked way too cute like that.

only now did you finally take a good look at the man before you, and you were embarrassed to realize that this was the man that had been labeled all over the news as “the last living full-breed.”

and he was bloody, shirtless, and sexy right here on your living room couch.

“y-you’re…”

“the last living full-breed vampire? yeah, something like that.” ony rolled his eyes, his hand waving in a nonchalant manner as if he wasn’t the most wanted… thing walking right now. you’d built up an impressive saved folder of videos, blog articles, and news headlines about him and his whereabouts, and you’d always felt so bad for him.

a bout of shame washed over you at your previous actions. you’d attacked him and screamed at him without even realizing that this was the same man you’d been pitying for months now, and now that he’s here, you have a strange urge to protect him.

“i, uh…i’m sorry for all the knife-throwing and stuff,” you mumble into the arm of the couch. “i didn’t realize it was you.” ony huffs, clearly amused with your response.“i did break into your house to be fair. i wouldn’t sweat it.” he shifts in his seat on the couch, still unable to fully sit up without the pain spreading. fuck; he really needs to eat soon.

comfortable silence sits in the room with the two of you, the same thing on both of your minds.

“so, what’re you gonna do now?”

“no clue. i can’t go back to my cave, and most of my homeboys live in the old city i was staying in, so i can’t go to any of them. probably just gonna skip town. again.” ony mentions sadly. he was tired of always having to run from people, and it was getting lonely without any of his friends or family around anymore. it was a constant battle, and he was tired of fighting for it.

you him to affirm him, but can’t shake the ridiculous idea you have brewing on the back of your tongue. it should be out of the question, but you wanted to protect him, and he needed somewhere to stay. what’s the worst that could happen?

ony sighed, and as he went to stand up, you grabbed his wrist firmly.

“why don’t…why don’t you just stay here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“onyankopon, i’m not boutta play wit you all night.”

“please baby, im so hungry.” ony presses his cheek against the innard of your thigh while you diligently finish on the outline of your english literature essay and pouts.

fuck you and your dedication to a masters degree, hmph.

he’d been teasing you for hours now so you could feed him, but you wouldn’t take the bait. you just roll your eyes in response as he grips onto the fat of your thigh, licking and sucking at the bite mark from 2 days ago that hadn't faded all the way yet.

this only spurred ony further, his instincts just telling him to ruin your thighs for any one else, to just drain you of everything you had.

so he did.

“o-ony! what did i just say?!” your thigh trembles against his lips as he digs his fangs in, his eyes low and cloudy from your taste. this, this right here, was his personal heaven—desperate whines slipping from your lips, your fingers gripping his hair, your sweet stream hitting his tongue as he sloppily drinks you alive.

ony groaned deep in his chest as his pants began to feel far too tight all of the sudden. this happens often, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. it isn’t uncommon for him to come completely undone just by feeling your sweetness flow down his throat and pool into his stomach. your blood was his weakness; it made him stronger, faster, and healthier than he’d ever felt or been, and you protected him.

you the first—and the only—to not cast him out, and for that reason, he fell deep for you. deeper than he ever thought possible.

and even now, ony craved more of you.

you shakily pressed three taps to the side of his biceps, your sign that you needed him to stop. he whined loudly, but pulled away nonetheless. he knows that restraint is very important when it comes to this, but he’s still so hungry. you feel your cheeks heat up as you brush a thumb of his now trembling lips, and take in just how wrecked he looks.

his eyes are watering tinted and watery, and his hair was ruffled from the way you’d pulled on it. ony was a complete mess of himself, and you felt your pride swell at how easily your blood can do that to him.

“mmm, fuck ma, tastes so fucking good—‘m so hard fr’m it…”

you smile down at him, loving how quickly he fell under your spell. ony’s your obsession, but he had disobeyed you, and you couldn’t let that slide. as much as you wanted to just give into him and let him take what he needs from you, you had to remind him who was boss.

“uh huh.” you shrugged, simply going back to your paper. you wanted to make him even more needy than he already was.

“‘fuck you mean, uh huh? make me nut already.” ony licks over the freshly punctured bite as a little blood rushes out. he expects you to do something, anything in response, but you just huff and continue to work on your paper. you’re basically done with it already, but you choose to add little details just so he gets irritated, and boy is it working. ony was absolutely itching to just break that stupid laptop so you'd pay attention to him, but it was all in vain.

no matter the amount of kissing, licking or teasing he did, your resolve didn't crack one bit under the pressure of his touch, and that in itself made ony's blood run cold. he just wanted you to look at him, and his cock was throbbing even without your attention.

“don’t act like you ain’t just drink a whole pint outta me even when i said wait. you not gettin’ shit else.” you wave him off with a simple signal of your hand, and his stomach drops. not only were you ignoring him, you were shooing him.

ony raises to his feet and nuzzles his face into your neck, positively whiny now. he undid the button of his pants and you gasped as his cock sprung free. of course the freaky nigga wasn’t wearing any drawls, he strange like that.

“ony, put some damn drawls on.”

“baby please, ‘s literally throbbing. ‘can’t take it.”

you found yourself holding back a smile as he peppers kisses along your face and neck, and you’re trying not to giggle. your restraint is slowly slipping, and you figured that you could indulge him just a little. you meet him halfway, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily. it was just how you liked it. ony had a way with kissing—his fangs usually came as a bit of a roadblock, but you two found ways around it. you tug the back of his head toward you, and he’s stumbling down to your height.

you smile, and ony feels himself melting once more. you could tell that he was getting needier, the glint in his eyes giving away how ready he was to be ruined by you.

“you need it bad, pa?”

“fuck, so bad.” he gasped into your mouth, his fang nipping your lip and watching a bit of blood bead at the tip of it. he eagerly licked it up, and you could feel your own arousal building. your gray panties did nothing to hide the wet spot growing in your core, but you had bigger things to worry about.

you wrapped a manicured hand around ony’s wrist, pulling him to the bedroom. he chuckled deep in his chest as he trailed behind you like your personal mutt, and you couldn’t help but smile. you loved when he got like this.

as soon as you entered the room, ony blinked and he was suddenly cuffed to your king sized bed, the silk of the sheets rubbing up against his skin. he already felt overwhelmed, and was pouty about not being able to touch you, but he had to remember that this was his punishment, and he wanted to be good for you. he was completely naked and the cold air of the room barely registered to him as your clothed pussy rutted against his bare cock.

it was like torture, but he knows that’s the point.

“c-cmon ma, you can go harder,” ony sighed, gesturing his head toward your matching bra and panties. you ground your pussy down against him harder, wanton moans falling from your glossed lips. ony cursed under his breath as he watched you stimulate yourself on his cock. your nails dug into his waist as you moved, arousal clear on your face. “is fat ma wet for me yet?”

it was a ridiculous question, really. he already knew the answer, and you did too. squelching noises filled the room as your sticky underwear made friction against his cock, and that was answer enough, but ony wanted to hear you admit it. you weren’t that vocal in bed (at least not with words), but it was always ony’s goal to make you.

“mmhm, she’s so wet f’you pa.”

“oh fuck.” ony feels his hips jerk up involuntarily as you talk dirty to him, he loves that nasty shit. he can’t figure out if it’s because you’re kinda mad at him or something else, but you were so responsive today and he needed to be inside you now. just the simple act of watching you climb the ladder to your climax was enough to have him panting and moaning along with you.

your head drops backward as you get closer to that sweet release, and ony is falling in love all over again. you look perfect like this, drooling over his cock rubbing between your folds without even properly touching you. your hand rubs under his chin as you force him to look at you, and he hopes he isn’t blushing.

“ony—fuck! ‘m cummin!” the coil in your stomach snaps, and ony watches in awe as your panties get completely ruined. his lap is sticky from the mix of his own pre and your juices, and he whines as his fangs start to protrude from arousal. you smile and let your thumb trail over his teeth and tongue, and he’s struggling against the cuffs.

there’s so many thing ony wants to do to you right now—but he wants to touch you more than anything. run his fingers up the indent of your wide hips, choke you, rub your oversensitive pussy, fuck, and he really wants to bite you. he wasn’t even that hungry, but there was an ache under his skin to mark you and make you bleed, and watch it all drip out.

just the thought was enough to have a spurts of cum shooting onto his stomach, and you let out a little coo at his twitching stomach as you take the opportunity to begin stimulating him, not even caring if he was too sensitive. you ran your fingers over the head of his cock, pay extra attention to the tip just the way that makes him fall apart.

“w-wait!”

“for what? you were just begging me to make you nut earlier, weren’t you?” you smirk as he bucks against your hand. when ony gets sensitive, his voice will pitch up and it’s the sexiest thing in the world to you. he’s always the neediest after he feeds, and it’s so cute. your eyes landed on the lube sitting on your nightstand, and you took the opportunity to squirt a few drops onto your hand. it was almost too slippery for you to keep your pace, but the added moisture made it easier to stimulate the most sensitive parts of him.

“shit, it’s so wet.”

“yeah? wetter than me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“uh uh, ‘s nothing wetter than you mama—oh shit,” ony’s mouth dropped open as your finger passed over his slit once more, and he was spilling into your hand with a groan. there was more of it this time, and his hands tugged at the handcuffs as you continued to work him through his second orgasm. you were almost afraid that he was going to break them with his pure strength, but you just let him struggle.

you’d seen him break many things in your shared house. door handles, alarm clocks, your counter, (don’t ask about that one) so you wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to break his restraints, but you knew he loved them too much. “baby—can’t take anymore, fucking hurts!” ony trembles, his legs bucking under you as you stroke his harder. both of your hands were working on his cock now, and his lip was bleeding from gnawing on it too much. a few stray tears even started to trail down his face.

“cmon princess, you can give me one more,” you kiss along ony’s neck and chest, and smile as you feel his breath stutter under your touch.

“ma, w-wait! ‘m serious, it feels weird—shitshitshit—”

before you could ask what he meant, ony’s orgasm was slamming into him and a clear stream of liquid was shooting out of his cock in uneven spurts. each shot was shorter than the first, but you were taken aback nonetheless. he’d never done anything like that before, at least not that you’ve ever seen, but you could feel arousal pooling in your belly again as he writhed under you. you finally released his cock as it softened against his stomach, and room was developed in silence apart from the heaving breathing of both of you.

you gave him a wet kiss on his cheek and began undoing his cuffs, his look of embarrassment not going unnoticed. he rubbed his wrists together, inevitably proud of the marks you’d left on him. “onya.” you pressed your chest to his, but he wouldn’t look at you. you figured he was embarrassed about what had just happened, even if you didn’t know exactly what that was.

“hmm?”

“you gonna look at me or just do that blushing school girl shit all night?” that made him smack his lips and finally let his eyes meet yours. you held his jaw with your hand, stroking right where he was starting to grow some hair finally. it was a shame, ony really had no idea how pretty he was, even with his eyes streaked with tears, swollen lips, and marks left all along his neck and chest. his hands finally grasped your waist, eventually sliding down to paw at your doughy ass.

“you’re ruining my street cred, fat butt. out here makin me squirt and shit.”

“what street cred, nigga? you from the woods!” you laughed against his chest, and he felt his heart swell. he lifted your chin up to look at him, and your little smile made him remember that everything would be okay as long as he had you. you’d saved him, taken him away from a dangerous life, and he couldn’t find any way good enough to properly thank you.

your eyes twinkled and you closed the distance between the two of you. the kiss was slow and ardent, and you wanted to stay like this forever.

“you did so good, ony. ‘so proud of you, baby.”

“if you were really proud, you’d feed me some more—”

“mmkay, don’t push ya luck.”

special tag 444 my baby <3 @hoesluvshanti

#onyankopon #onyankopon x you #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x y/n #onyankopon smut #onyankopon snk #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #ony x you #ony x reader #ony x black reader #ony aot #attack on titan smut #aot smut #syno’s picks 💌#this is freaky woah

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onlyhuis · 5 months

Text

wait

member — joshua x gn reader genre — fluff, comfort (18+) word count — 1.1k synopsis — sometimes you just need to take second to wait. warnings — allusions to past/future sex but no sex happens in this fic, implied that shua is more dom and reader is more sub, this is literally just pure aftercare notes — i never feel like i put enough aftercare into my fics because i'm usually drained by the end of writing and i just want to finish it and hit post so this is kinda to make up for that. also i'm really particular about the way aftercare is written and i feel like i never see the kind i want to read so honestly this is just a super self-indulgent fic, because if you can't find it then write it yourself or whatever toni morrison said, but i hope you can enjoy this too :) i haven't proofread this since 3am so if there's mistakes pls ignore! also this is not based on the song wait by dino as you might have assumed i just thought it was a fitting title because we all need a reminder to just slow down and wait

"wait, wait... wait!"

joshua starts to stand up off the bed, but hesitates when you call out suddenly. "what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, eyes carefully watching your face, searching for signs and trying to figure out what you need.

"don't leave yet," you say softly, your fingers wrapping loosely around his wrist. "don't want you to go.”

he rubs his hand over the back of your palm. "just gonna get you a glass of water,” he explains but he sits back on the bed, waiting anyway.

you're exhausted and you know you both need to shower and change the sheets, but the thought of moving right now only sends you into a panic. you're overheated and sticky with sweat, but still you crave the warmth of joshua’s body next to yours, the feeling of his skin against you as close as he can possibly get.

“later?” you say the word like a statement, but your voice rises in a question. “just stay for now. please.”

there's a time and a place for everything, and joshua knows right now is not the time for rational thinking. sure, you've got twice the amount of laundry to do later and your mouth feels drier than a desert, but that can wait. it can always wait, for joshua. it can wait because right now you need to feel the grounding weight of him beside you, telling you he'll always be there, especially when you need him most.

even though it's what he immediately wants to do, no amount of sweat-stained sheets could ever come before you in his mind. even though he knows you're thirsty and probably craving a cold shower and he wants nothing more than to jump up and take care of your every wish, that's not always what's best. yes, what you need is fresh laundry, but what you want is him.

so he settles back in on top of the bed, easily sliding into place beside you without a second thought. because it's always about you. always has been.

"better?" he asks, his finger gently brushing your cheek in slow, repetitive motions.

you exhale and lean into him, letting your eyes fall shut as you hum in reply.

the gentleness of his touch is such a stark contrast from how he'd been handling you not even 15 minutes ago, but you can't help but love both sides of him. gone is the hair pulling, the slapping and biting, replaced with soft brushes of your hair and careful caresses of your skin over each of the marks he'd left in the heat of the moment.

really, it's joshua's favorite part, besides the fact that he gets the honor of fucking you and being the one to bring you pleasure. it's the part afterwards that he looks forward to, when you're at your most vulnerable and both still riding an emotional high, when he gets to build you back up after so meticulously taking you apart. it's the trust in him that you show without ever so much as saying a word, the sense of safety and comfort washing over you that only ever comes from the feeling of being held in his arms.

the air seems to hang silently around you, as if even the universe can sense that this is a moment that shouldn't be interrupted, your own little bubble together that exists outside of space and time.

you just need a second to collect yourself, and seconds turns to minutes turns to half an hour before you can fully feel like yourself again. sometimes it's minutes and sometimes it's longer, but he'll wait as long as it takes.

you slowly open your eyes and inhale, lips warming into a smile as you see joshua is still here, still cradling your head against his chest, and that this all wasn't just a pleasant dream. you can always rely on him that when you open your eyes, he'll be there waiting for you. no matter how long you need to rest, he's always there when you're ready.

your thumb brushes over his arm, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head. “okay now?” he asks. “or do you just wanna leave it and go to bed?”

as tired as you are and as comfortable as his body feels, the intense feelings have subsided a little and you've regained enough of your energy to realize that what you need most right now is a shower and a glass of water.

so joshua slips off the bed, but not without leaving you with another sweet kiss because why wouldn't he? and you let him leave without a word of protest, because you don't feel that crushing feeling in your chest anymore of being left alone when you really need someone to hug, so you just wait patiently for him to return.

he comes back not much later with cool, fresh water in your favorite cup, and he sits beside you as you drink with his hand on your thigh because now it's his turn to be cared for, and the way he feels cared for is knowing you feel good and knowing he's doing a good job at making you feel loved. and you know that he needs this time just as much as you do so you savor the seconds spent here, letting the water wash down your throat until you both feel refreshed.

“thank you,” you tell him as you sit atop the sink, watching as he sticks his hand under the faucet to see if the shower is the right temperature yet. the bed’s already been stripped of its sheets and a fresh stack of towels been laid out, one by one ticking things off joshua's mental checklist. it's a routine, one that isn't always this thorough every single night but always equal in the amount of care and love he puts in each step.

and eventually things will return to normal, and you'll wake up the next morning filled with nothing but adoration for the man still sleeping peacefully next to you, and then you'll go about your days and come home in the evening and still be so much in love with him that you do it all again. maybe it goes differently next time, faster or shorter or less intense and you don't need to wait like you did tonight.

but sometimes you need a little extra time. and joshua is a patient man.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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justburningdaylight · 2 years

Text

The Garden Within

Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

Summary: Reader has been in love with her best friend Steve for longer than she’d care to admit. When he requests her help to gain another girl’s attention, she agrees to be his girlfriend. Kind of.

Warnings: angst, like for real a ton of angst especially in the beginning, happy ending though !! my devotion to bruce springsteen popping out multiple times, a fair amount of pining, slight fake dating au, reader being incredibly oblivious, a kiss or two, no spoilers!

Word count: 4.1k

a/n: literally nobody asked for this but it’s one of my favourite things i’ve ever written so i wanted to share it with you! p.s. requests are open, come chat with me besties !!

You weren’t entirely sure when it stopped happening.

When the soft smiles, the ones that started at the delicate curves of his plush lips and trailed up generously to perfectly crease his shimmering golden eyes, had stopped appearing the moment he saw you.

When the gentle brush of his agile fingertips against your skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, stopped occurring as often as it used to.

When the euphonious sound of his laughter stopped ringing captivatingly through the air after every bad joke you told.

You weren’t sure when it stopped but you knew why it had.

Nancy.

It was no secret to you that your best friend had feelings for the Wheeler girl. After all, they had dated for months. But that was before.

Before Nancy had fractured Steve’s unassuming heart. Before she began dating Jonathan.

Before you had fallen hopelessly in love with your best friend.

You remember the exact moment you knew it was love. You remember the juncture with the fondest of touches, as though if you thought about it too hard or for too long it would swiftly dissipate from your memory, leaving nothing but empty space in its wake.

‘You- You saved my life! Holy shit Steve what- Are you okay?” Your best friend had just absconded from seemingly out of nowhere in the nick of time. Gently pushing you ahead as the two of you run as fast as your legs will allow, fleeing the mind flayer that was previously conterminous with your face. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” He answers once the two of you are safely hidden behind a corridor, “Jesus (y/n), I thought- I thought-” His eyes are swimming with such a multitude of emotions, Sherlock Holmes himself couldn’t decipher their meaning. “I’m okay,” you state breathlessly, “You made sure I was okay. Steve, I don’t even know how to thank you, I-” He places his hand tenderly on your cheek, calloused thumb running imperceptibly gently along the curvature of your face, “You don’t have to thank me, (y/n), I couldn’t take it if anything ever happened to you.”

You still remember the delicate touch of his svelte fingers on your skin. The impossibly compassionate look in his eye. It was the moment your heart sprouted new growth, the roots blossoming into an ample array of flowering love, vines twisting their way affectionately around the curves and bends of your ribcage.

You didn’t fault Steve for his unwavering affections toward Nancy. How could you? Nancy Wheeler was irreproachable. She was sunshine after a storm; a tepid, radiant reassurance that there is still hope and luminescence after even the most cataclysmic catastrophe.

Unfortunately, that didn’t aid your aching heart.

“Earth to Mars, can you hear me out there?” Steve asks, gently waving his hand in front of your face, an obvious effort to refocus your attention onto him. The irony of this gesture is not lost upon you, considering you can still hear the perpetual echo of his reverberating footsteps as he takes his time exploring the corridors of your mind.

“Sorry, what was that Space Ranger? We’re having some technical difficulties up here.” You reply, willing yourself not to grow weak in the knees after braving a tenuous glimpse into his effervescent caramel eyes.

“I was just asking if you think I should talk to Nance, y’know feel it out a little? Make sure I’m not making this into something it’s not.” You nod absentmindedly from your spot on your bed as he rants, deftly retracing the invisible path he’s carefully constructed while pacing apprehensively on your bedroom carpet.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I know how you feel about her but you do remember she has a boyfriend right? I’m sure the last thing you’d want to do is make her uncomfortable.” Your judgement is not shrouded by your sentiments, you’re simply warning Steve not to act before he thinks. Even if it stings, you’ll invariably have his best interests at heart.

He sighs, “You’re right. God why are you always right?” He questions, finally ceasing his irritable pacing and collapsing onto his back beside you.

“Well one of us has to be and we’ve already established that it’s not you.” You’re almost sure you hear the mellifluous sound of angels singing in perfect harmony from the gates of heaven at the mere sight of his hallowed smile. “I’ll never forget your morally reprehensible slandering of America’s greatest treasure!”

“For the love of- (y/n)! For the last time, I didn’t slander Bruce Springsteen! All I said was Born in the U.S.A. got a little overplayed! Two years ago! We’ve gotta move past it, alright?”

“Never.” You’re smiling with him now, despite your unwavering devotion to the boss of rock ‘n roll.

“I should forget about it right?” He swiftly returns the conversation back to the subject of his admiration, the divine smile you’re never quite ready to part with has left his face without bidding you farewell. “Get over her for good? Maybe I should just move in with one of those old ladies who loves cats. And if I can’t find one of my own, I’m sure Mrs. Henderson would be more than happy to have me.”

You release a small chuckle at the overdramatic rantings of the boy you so reverently adore.

“Yeah but then you’d have to room with Dustin, and there’s no way you forgot how loudly he snores.”

He scrunches his nose in a captivating display of antipathy. “Right again.” He mumbles, promptly ridding his brain of the thought.

“Why don’t you just bring a date next time we all hang out? If Nance gets jealous then you know you stand a chance.” Your suggestion was marginally unserious to begin with. You know Steve’s going to protest the idea before you even finish saying the words, but you also want to appear unaffected by the constant crushing weight of his affections being aimed anywhere but you.

“Because she’s seen me on dates before (y/n)! She knows I’m not serious about any of those girls. Don’t get me wrong, they’re great but they’re not the one y’know? And she’d have to believe I was really committed to a girl to get jealous of her, right?” Called it.

“I’m not sure how to help then, Steve,” You start, verbalizing your thoughts more to yourself than him at this point. “The only girls you hang out with more than once these days are me and Robin.”

He turns to you, his saccharine eyes widening, syrupy sweet honey pooling out in a delicious display of interpretation. “Oh that’s it! You’re a genius! Seriously.”

Your eyebrows furrow together in a clear exhibit of confusion as you face Steve again, ready to ask him if he’s lost in the complex confines of his own fascinating mind, when his words strip away any thoughts previously circling in your head; the water has spun around the drain one final time and left nothing in its wake.

“Be my girlfriend.”

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been speechless before, truly speechless. On the contrary, you quintessentially found yourself ranting nervously, unable to stop, like the ticking of a clock moving unceasingly.

“W-what?” You manage, silently berating yourself for decidedly taking longer than it should to form a singular word.

“Be my girlfriend,” He repeats gesticulating his graceful hands, “I mean, not for real, obviously-”

“Yeah, obviously.” You murmur as your heart cracks with such a violent force, you’re unsure how your ribcage is still intact, worrying for the garden of tender emotion still residing inside.

“I mean you- you said it right? You’re the girl I spend the most time with, and Nancy, she knows that! If we pretended to be together, there’s no way she wouldn’t be jealous! I mean unless- unless she doesn’t like me back, like at all, in which case I’d just be super-”

It’s a terrible idea. A monumentally disastrous plan. Not because you don’t think it’d work, in fact, if Nancy returned Steve’s empyreal sentiments it would work out exactly as he desires. Which would unequivocally shatter the remnants of your already fragmented heart. This is why you can hardly believe the word that flies from your delicate lips like a particularly determined bird through the serene afternoon skies.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His movements still, and his resplendent eyes widen in both shock and gratitude, “Really? You’d- You’d actually do that for me?” He questions, painstakingly oblivious to your unwavering devotion.

“Yeah. ‘Course. I’d do anything for you.” You mean this with every molecule in your body, down to the atoms that make them up. And though you’re unambiguously positive this won’t end well for you, you can’t help but marvel in the euphonic melody of his laugh as he pulls you into the solace of his embrace.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He mumbles into your shoulder, sturdy grip unwavering as he sings your praises.

Reluctantly you pull away from him, knowing if you’re going to forge a less than truthful relationship together, you’d better fabricate one hell of a believable story.

“So how do we do this exactly? Fake a relationship I mean. Like how did we,” You hesitate, regret tiptoeing its way into your body like a child cautiously creeping through the halls far past their bed-time, “How did we fall in love, o-or whatever?” You wince inaudibly at your own words, suppressing the memory of the day your chest was no longer just a home for your heart, but also a home to the flourishing garden of unrequited love that you harbour for your best friend.

“Hmmm.” Steve ponders for a moment, gathering his slender form off of your bed and resuming his previously abandoned route, pacing back and forth in contemplation once more.

“Oh!” He snaps his nimble fingers together as an indicator of the metaphorical lightbulb going off above his head. “How about this?” He stops maneuvering once more, his undivided attention landing back on you as he explains the story, “I came here after a particularly bad date, complaining about how I’m gonna grow old alone and you, y’know you were all (y/n) about the situation.”

“I was (y/n) about the situation?” You echo the resplendent boy’s statement, equal parts curious and amused.

“Yeah, yeah, y’know? Saying all the right things, making me feel better even when I didn’t think I could.” He smiles a seraphic smile at you, and you know that he means it altogether platonically, but you can’t help the infinitesimal sliver of hope that dances its way along your ribcage and tucks itself neatly away after passing the vines that neighbour the myocardium of your heart. “And, I don’t know, I guess I just- I kissed you? And you kissed back, and then we just, we’re a thing now, I guess? Does that sound okay?” Nothing in your life has ever sounded more okay, but you’re aware of the question’s true meaning.

“Yeah, that- that sounds fine.”

“Alright! Cool, cool.” He nods his head, his impeccably styled anfractuous hair moving along with it. “So we’re probably gonna have to tell Robin too, just to make it believable, right? ‘Cause we can’t tell her it’s fake. She’s like, the worst secret keeper in the world.”

“Yeah, I mean, I hate lying, especially to Robin, I feel like she always knows!” You voice, tossing your head back with a haphazard glance toward the immovable ceiling. How did you get yourself into this? “But there’s no way she’d be able to keep a secret that big. So I guess we’re just gonna be lying to our best friend now. Awesome.” You conclude, your typical quick wit is absent from the conversation and is instead replaced with the serpentine feeling of guilt, you’ve always loathed lying, especially to your friends.

You’re unsure if Robin will buy the narrative the two of you are intending to sell, but there’s one paramount factor that Steve’s unaware of, one that will make your ‘relationship’ appear more legitimate to your shared best friend. Robin knows.

When you ultimately came to the arduous conclusion that your deep-seated affection for Steve wasn’t going anywhere, you desperately required an unloading of your feelings. Since you couldn’t exactly tell the boy himself, Robin seemed like your best bet. So, after her swearing to abide by an oath of secrecy, bound and never to be broken, you told her everything. You’re positive it takes every fibre of her being not to erupt the information onto Steve every day, and you’re eternally grateful that there finally seems to be one secret she can keep.

Robin has been virtually begging you for months to come clean to Steve, adamant that he would return your affections if he were only made aware of them. Naturally, you refuse to entertain the idea of baring unto him your subterranean secret.

“C’mon, hey,” His voice softens and he leans his elevated frame down to where you’re sitting, maintaining eye contact that makes your head feel as though you’re floating, he continues as your mind becomes one with the celestial realm, “I know it seems bad but it’s just for a little while, okay? Just a few weeks. A month tops. Once we figure out how Nancy feels, I’ll let you tell Robin that you dumped me ‘cause I hated Springsteen or something.”

You feel the familiar twitch of a smile upon your lips despite yourself, “Hey! Don’t even joke about that dude! I will straight up dump you, like, right now.”

“Okay, alright, you can pick the reason. Just nothing embarrassing, please.”

“There’s nothing more embarrassing than Springsteen slander, Steve.”

“Are we really doing this? Fake boyfriend and girlfriend? It’s crazy isn’t it?”

“No crazier than any other plan you’ve ever had.”

“What?”

“Just, please, no cheesy pet names, okay? They make my skin crawl.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugarplum.” He quips, that delectable angelic smile of his returning to his face where you wish it would stay forever.

“Gross, Steve.” You’re smiling now too, falling back onto your mattress as the two of you slip into a comfortable rhythm of acerbic jokes. You don’t see it then, as you fix your jovial eyes to the ceiling once more; You don’t see the look Steve adorns as he takes in the sound of your well-tuned laughter. You don’t see the emotions swirling through his eyes, the tenderness of his gaze.

You don’t see it, but it’s there.

“Should we, like, hold hands now? Before we walk in? Just to make it seem more authentic?” Steve’s anxiety ridden questions sound through the frigid evening air as the two of you approach Joe’s Diner. You’re meeting Robin and Nancy for your monthly group hang, unsolicited nerves linger unyieldingly amidst the air between the two of you, it’s been three weeks since your joint plan had been hatched and this would be your official debut to your friends as a ‘couple’.

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s hold hands!” You silently scold yourself for sounding so outwardly thrilled at the prospect of holding hands with your best friend.

Way to be subtle (y/n)!

His left hand tentatively grabs ahold of your right one, gingerly weaving his delicate slender fingers through your own, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance before loosely swinging your joined hands together as you come to a stop by the entrance of the diner.

“We got this. We do got this, right?”

“Yeah Steve, we got this.”

“Right, no, I know. I just wanted to make sure you were cool with it. There’s still time to back out.”

“Ouch, is it really that embarrassing to be seen with me?” You joke, though subconsciously you’re wondering if he’s having second thoughts because it’s you that’s playing the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“Woah! No, no, no. I was just making sure you’re comfortable with this. It’s a lot, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” You fabricate a smile, though you’re perceptive enough to know it isn’t reaching your eyes, “I’m cool if you’re cool.”

“Oh I’m cool alright. King of cool. Mayor of Cool-town.”

“Sure sounds like it. All cool people appoint themselves Mayor.” You’re both donning grins as you finally shake away the tension that was previously looming overhead like a nimbostratus cloud before a bout of particularly heavy rainfall.

“Let’s do this, Pudding Pop!”

“Agh, Steve! That’s disgusting.” He’s intentionally outdoing himself with each nauseatingly objectionable nickname. You smile broadly despite your protests, looking up toward the elysian constellations in the sky, each one becoming more pronounced as the evening begins its timely descent into night. His caramel eyes waste no time taking in your smile while you’re distracted. Your smile that, to him, perfectly personifies the warm sacred glow of boundless euphoria. God he loved that smile.

“Okay, enough stalling. Let’s go before Robin lectures us about how important it is to be on time for the ‘sanctity of the group hang’ again.” You announce, pulling your gaze away from a particularly bright cluster of stars.

“Right, yeah.” Steve stammers out, grateful you hadn’t appeared to pick up on his benevolent gaze. “After you, Boo-Bear.” He gestures as he opens the door for you, using the hand that isn’t still occupied with holding your own.

“Ew! Enough! At this rate I’m gonna be too nauseous to eat.”

“C’mon, admit it, they’re growing on you.”

“Like a fungus, Harrington.”

“There they are! Finally!” Robin’s voice rings out gently through the vacant diner. “We were starting to think you guys got lost or some-” Her words die a swift and sudden death on her lips, sapphire eyes widening as she looks back and forth between you, Steve, and your intertwined hands. “What-?”

“Looks like we’ve got a little explaining t’do. So, uh, yeah, (y/n) and I are like a- a thing now.” He punctuates visually by lifting your joint hands before letting them fall back to your sides, still entwined. Okay, so his words weren’t exactly carefully crafted, a perceptible lack of meticulous composure. At least you didn’t have to announce the fictitious relationship to your two friends.

Speaking of your friends, whilst Robin was preoccupied vehemently wrapping her mind around the new information, Nancy was smiling widely at the sudden broadcast of your new relationship. She was smiling?

“Oh my gosh, congratulations! It took you guys long enough, I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get together.” Nancy’s dazzling smile always put you at ease, but you were caught off guard by the sentiment of her amiable words. Were your feelings that obvious?

“Yeah seriously (y/n), I thought you’d never spit it out! And honestly, thank god you did, ‘cause I think the stress of keeping it a secret was giving me a rash.” Robin’s delicate voice sounded again. It seems, for what is first and only time in your elongated friendship, Robin actually believes the lie you two have concocted just below the protective cover of your craniums. Way to go Steve.

“Secret? What secret? Wait, hold on, have you two been keeping secrets behind my back?” Steve’s perplexed voice asks, furrowed eyebrows morphing his expression into an enamouring display of confusion.

“Noth-” You attempt a cover-up, voice quickly drowning in the crashing waves of the ocean’s tide as Robin answers instead, “About her undying love for you. You know I wouldn’t keep a secret from you unless I had to, it’s been giving me hives!” No. No, no, no, no, no. There’s no way that just happened.

“Her-?” Steve’s voice is barely above a whisper now, a mere shadow of its former self. “(y/n).” He’s looking at you, so clearly that your skin feels like its scorching beneath his honeyed gaze, but you can’t find it within yourself to connect your eyes with his own. Truthfully, the only thought undulating in your brain right now, apart from beseeching the earth to swallow you whole where you stand, is to run.

And so you do.

Run may be a slight overemphasis, but you released Steve’s hand, ending the ambrosial experience of lingering intimacy faster than you’d ever wanted, turning hastily on your heel and dashing dejectedly toward the exit. What if he never talks to you again? What if he laughs about it with your friends once you leave? What if-

“(y/n)! Hey! Would you slow down a for second please?” His sensitive voice pleads, convincing you to stop in your tracks. You still can’t brave a glimpse in his direction, all too aware of the uncertainty of the situation.

“Could you- Hey, will you look at me?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Sighing out a breath of recognition, you finally turn and your eyes meet his instantly.

“Is it true?”

“Does it matter? Can we just-”

“It matters,” his wondrous eyes are pouring into yours with so much unspoken emotion that you find yourself at a loss for words, an anomaly only Steve Harrington can manifest, “It matters, (y/n).”

“Yes.” You finally muster, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat at the idea of him addressing your unrequited love.

“You love me? Like- Like you’re in love with me?”

“Yes Steve! I’m in love with you okay! Are there any other ways you’d like me to say it? Maybe I can get Nance to print it as a headline in the newspaper.” You’re walking the fine line between embarrassed and perturbed, obviously he knows how you feel by now, why should you have to keep restating it?

“I’d buy every copy of that newspaper.” He’s wearing a stunning smile now. A smile that’s so bright you have to remind yourself that it’s nighttime, and the sun is no longer beaming down from the sky.

“What?” You’re puzzled. Is he going to start collecting Nancy’s articles or something?

“I’d hang ‘em up all over town too, show off a little.”

“Steve, what are you-”

“I love you too. I’m in love with you too.” He interrupts your confusion with the most astonishingly unexpected declaration you’ve ever heard.

“You’re-? Steve, what?” You respond after you’ve finished basking in the nuance of his words.

“We came here, came up with this whole idea, so you could get back with Nancy, and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me?”

“That’s not- Okay well, yes technically that’s what happened, but it’s also not. D’you know what I mean?”

“Not even a little.”

He sighs, running a hand through the perfectly placed strands of chestnut resting on his head.

“I thought I wanted her, I was pretty sure she was it for me,” You’re biting the inside of your cheek in an overt attempt to distract your racing mind from the words that keep spilling past his opulent lips, “But then you, you had to go and (y/n) up the situation! I haven’t been able to think about anything but you for weeks! It’s driving me crazy!” He takes a few cautious, yet deliberate steps toward you, his voice softening once again as he utters “You’re driving me crazy.”

You swear it's as if time itself has stopped. Your ears aren’t picking up the sounds of car engines passing by, your eyes don’t see another trace of movement on the street, you’re inclined to believe that the speed of light is now zero.

The only thing that pulls you out of this belief is the familiar featherlight touch of his hands on your face, his nimble thumbs retracing the soft skin that covers your malar bones.

“You gonna say anything, Sugarsnap?”

“Steve-” Your lips are forming words of complaint for yet another one of his revolting pet names as a smile fights its way into the mix.

And then it happens.

You’ve spent a myriad of your days wondering how his lips would feel on yours, but none of the thoughts you conjured up in your mind could have prepared you for how truly delectable the feeling was.

His lips were unimaginably soft, forming a perfect rhythm of ebullient bliss as they moved in sanctimonious harmony with your own. The two of you were content to stay just like this for an everlasting eternity.

Reluctantly, you part the shortest of distances to catch your breath.

“That was..” You respire, unsure how to forge your thoughts into words deserving enough to describe the heavenly osculation.

“Yeah, yeah it was.”

“Hey (y/n)?”

“Yeah?” You respond, smile brighter than the moon shining down upon you.

“Be my girlfriend? For real this time?”

“I don’t know,” you draw out teasingly, “Do you take back that stuff you said about Springsteen?”

“(y/n)!”

“Yes, Steve. Nothing would make me happier.” You declare, pulling him in for another lingering kiss.

Steve smiles at you brilliantly, and you feel the familiar tug of another flower blooming splendidly in your ribcage, vines gently twisting their way through your chest, curving languidly alongside the ventricles of your heart.

You’re now and forevermore devoted to the preservation of your internal garden.

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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scenesniper · 1 year

Text

☆ genos ; nsfw headcanons

pairing / genos x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / penetration & a bit angsty

word count / 879 words

draft from october that i never finished oops

⭒ genos is a virgin (obviously) and was certainly confused why you're even sexually attracted to a cyborg at the first place but nonetheless, he still loves you. 😔 he's never had the luxury of expressing himself as a hormonal teenager since his attention was set on getting revenge on the cyborg that took his family away from him.

⭒ but god, when he met you, everything changed. skipping the details but to say the least, he can finally explore that hormonal teenager experience he missed on.

⭒ sex with genos is very limited because again, he's part cyborg. man got nothing packing down there, i'm sorry to break the news. that doesn't mean he can't penetrate you with his metal fingers and give you oral with his tongue! in fact, he's EXTREMELY skilled despite having no prior experience.

⭒ in fact, he can't feel anything he touches. whenever he has his eyes on you, he has to watch your mannerisms closely. what part do you squirm in the most, what is the cause of your whimpers? because of this, he basically knows your entire body language. although he doesn't feel anything, it doesn't matter to him because he's a giver more than anything. he loves to please you.

⭒ his entire body is cold. his finger is bulky and thick, which can easily penetrate you. it happened between you two once, but i promise he's trying his best to be gentle with you! 😭

⭒ his finger movements are rhymtic, he's just absolutely fucking you senseless repeatedly. clutch onto his chest or hold onto his face while his finger is deep in you, he'll feel so embarrassed but yet proud of himself.

⭒ he loves it when you're taking charge. please treat him gently, not just because of the possible future repairs from you putting him out of service but also just because he wants to be taken care of for once.

⭒ completely malfunctions whenever he sees you strip in front of him. he absolutely heats up like a goddamn heater and you have to be like "where is that heat coming from?" (surprise, surprise, it's from your horny boyfriend).

⭒ one time however, one of his parts were to malfunction from overheating while having sex with you. he distracts you by this (EXTREMELY CONCERNING safey hazard) by flipping you over as he eats your face out, only to break the kiss when he's certain that specific part will be able to last a little longer.

⭒ very good with his mouth and when i say good, i mean GAHDAMN. it's just pure bliss, how else could you describe it. he's very gentle when it comes with you but just knows the right amount of force to have you wanting for him more.

⭒ for the sake of this scenario though, i will give him a tongue for all of you nasty bitches (i am nasty bitches) 🤝.

⭒ his tongue is very.. scratchy. its' texture is similar to that of sandpaper and a sponge meshed together. he's a natural kisser but whenever he includes his tongue.. his way of going is very.. interesting to say the least..! 😁

⭒ he literally just shoves his tongue down your throat and not like in a hot and heavy, sexy way but in a lord i feel my dinner coming up. the first time he tried to include his tongue, it's a literal "pause, nah nah we can't do this" moment. 😭

⭒ with oral though, he's heavenly when it comes with sucking your cunt and lapping your juices like a starved man. his tongue, as said before, is scratchy so your pussy will legit be so itchy but it's okay because it's genos.

⭒ he does loves it whenever you sit on his face. maybe you're hesitant at first but when he finally convinces you to do so, he's instantly on cloud 9 and holding you down while he laps away at your juices.

⭒ sex drive is unlimited because well, he's a cyborg. he's very attentive of you so when you're near your limit, he immediately stops whatever he is doing. he doesn't want you to push yourself and end up passing out, but is he okay with having you scream and writhing the entire time? why, yes.

⭒ aftercare will be genos running a cold bath for you. while you're soaking up, he'll begin cleaning up the remnants of the mess the two of you made.

⭒ nights like these are his favorite. he can watch your beautiful sleeping face with the shining moonlight upon your form. he learns that his anxiety disappears completely with just you by his side in these quiet nights. if it was any other day that he wasn't laying beside you, his mind will torment him with guilt just like every waking hour that he is aware.

⭒ and moments like these are his favorite, it is something that grounds genos down. something makes him feel a little bit human. he wonders what kind of feeling the satisfication gives you but genos doesn't have that luxury to ponder at that. the only pleasure he is given is your ecstasy. after all, he is only a cyborg and you are a human.

#genos #genos x reader #opm #opm x reader #one punch man #one punch man x reader #genos x reader smut #genos smut #genos smut hcs #genos smut headcanons #angst #genos x reader smut headcanons #genos x reader smut hcs #opm smut #one punch man smut

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rynwritesstuff · 10 months

Text

No Way to Say ‘Goodbye’

Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: Literally just so much unspoken love. Like, an insane amount of it.

Word Count: 830

Summary: You wake up with Kylo Ren.

Author’s Note: This is just a reminder that my requests ARE open for pretty much any of Adam’s characters! If you have any ideas, thoughts, or requests, feel free to send them my way :) Also, I am thinking of making a new taglist for my writing, so if you’d like to be tagged in my writing, let me know, and I’ll be sure to make that happen! - Ryn

“I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm. Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new. In city and in forest, they smiled like me and you, but now it's come to distances and both of us must try. Your eyes are soft with sorrow, and hey, that's no way to say goodbye . . .” - Hey That’s No Way to Say Goodbye, Feist

It is early when Kylo Ren wakes and looks over to his left. You are sleeping beside him, your chest rising and falling steadily as you dream. He finds himself wondering what it is you’re dreaming about. If it’s good. If it’s calm. If it’s him.

He’s leaving today. That much is certain. He has to find the scavenger, turn her, bring her to the Dark Side. He’s not sure how long he’ll be gone for. Kylo reaches down and caresses your cheek, an action that he normally wouldn’t be caught doing during the day. If the two of you were on a planet, though, the sun wouldn’t even be up, so Kylo lets himself touch your cheek. Your hair is splayed out on his pillow, and you stir as he pulls his hand away.

This could be the end of everything, Kylo realizes as emotion rises behind his eyes. He doesn’t cry. He never cries, but he might right now. You just look so beautiful and soft and . . . Good.

You are good. A good lover, a good conversationalist, a good person. He’s the complete opposite, always so tied up with responsibilities and tasks that mean little to him. He doesn’t have time to be good.

Your eyes open slowly, and Kylo’s face is the first thing that you see. You smile instantly. Kylo isn’t sure why.

“Hey,” you say, reaching for his hand. “What time is it?”

“Five,” Kylo says. You hum, bringing his hand to your lips so that you can kiss his fingers. He swallows harshly. “When do you have to go?”

“Soon.”

You nod, looking away from his face so that you can focus on his hand. His hands are so lovely: Big and rough and strong. You bring it up to your cheek, silently asking him to touch the skin there.

He does.

“You should go,” Kylo breathes, voice barely above a whisper. He knows that his voice is on the verge of shaking. You nod, offering him a small smile.

“I know, love,” you say. Kylo rubs your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Will you call me while you’re away?”

“If you would like that,” he says. “Of course I would.”

You sit up, stretching and looking away. You knew this was coming, but you didn’t think it would be so soon. You thought he’d at least get you something to eat, something to drink, something to hold onto.

You go to stand and get re-dressed – you’re still naked from the night before – and Kylo catches your wrist. You look back at him.

“I . . . “ he starts.

There is so much he needs to tell you, like how he notices the way you stare at him during meetings, and how much you make him feel, and how deeply you have derailed his existence just by being yourself and having him in this way.

He closes his mouth.

You sigh, then pull away and grab your clothes. You get dressed slowly, and you feel his eyes on you the entire time. You grab Kylo’s undershirt, the one he was wearing last night, and slip it on over your uniform. “May I keep this?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

You nod, then pull the sleeves down over your wrists. “I’ll, um . . . I’ll go, then,” you say after you pull your boots on. Kylo stands quickly, still wearing only a pair of underwear, and steps in front of you. He looks at you desperately, wishing more than anything that you could simply read his mind so that he wouldn’t have to say it out loud–

“Please be safe while I’m gone,” Kylo says. You put your hands on his warm chest as he speaks. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

You smile softly, gently, and reach up to touch the scar on his cheek.

“Nothing will happen to me, love,” you say. “Don’t worry. Just bring the scavenger back with you, alright?”

Kylo nods.

“I will.”

You lean up and kiss him, then. It is deep. Passionate. Loving. It conveys all that the two of you are too afraid to say: I love you. I need you. Take care of yourself.

You pull away, tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, and offer him a smile.

“I’ll see you, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo nods, pulling his hands off of your hips as you take your hand off his cheek.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “Soon.”

#rynwritesstuff #kylo ren #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x yn #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #star wars #star wars characters #star wars character #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fic #adcu fanfiction #adcu author #adam driver #adam driver fic

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moon-alight · 1 year

Note

hiyaa can i please request a mingyu fic (smut) where him and reader have been together for a while and want a baby?

Sure thing! I love Mingyu, defo one of my bias wreckers so this was once again super fun.

MINORS GET LOST!

Future baby momma- Seventeen Mingyu

Synopsis: You had spend a day babysitting your friend's child. Every time Mingyu saw you with the little fella, he wandered off deeper and deeper into his fantasy of having a family with you.

Warnings: fluffy smut, soft dom Mingyu x afab sub reader, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink,

Word Count: 524 (A bit shorter because the amount of smut people are requesting lately is insane! I'm literally a bit stuck, sorry)

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through your shared bedroom. Mingyu's face buried in the crook of your neck where he has been for the past hour.

You had just dropped off your friend's one-year-old baby back at her house before Mingyu pulled you in the car and drove the two of you home. He was talking about how pretty you'd look with a bump and how he would love to have a baby of his own.

After he had pulled you through three orgasms and himself through two, he continued, wanting to be sure that something would stick. His breathing is shaky when he pulls in and out of you like a magnet attracted to its source.

He couldn't bring himself to stop, not when you looked so pretty under him, clasping his back to keep your grip on reality as your body is being send through heaven. He couldn't stop when your sounds are so beautifully sinful to hear and all just because of him.

"You are going to be such a pretty momma. I can already see it, baby." Mingyu whispers, his dream of wanting a family coming closer the more he ruts into you. As if he can already feel the baby's heartbeat.

"M-Mingyu." Oh you are completely lost. You have been for the past 30 minutes. After orgasm two, you were as good as fucked dumb and he fucking knew it.

"Yes, baby. Imagine how hot you would look with your belly all round and those damn stretchmarks." He groans at the thought. "Can't wait to see you look all gorgeous with cute tiger stripes to accentuate your figure." He would be lying if he said it didn't sound appealing.

"Mingyu, 'm close." You mumble, feeling him impossibly reach deeper, his tip pressing your cervix every time he trusts in.

"Cum for me. Let me fill you up with my babies, does that sound good? Mh?"

"Yes, fuck--" You clench around him, your mind shutting down as black spots blind your vision momentarily. The strength of your orgasm sends you in a wave of bliss. You clench so hard, Mingyu knows he is losing his damn mind already.

He halts his movements when his hot liquid fills you for the third time tonight. All your senses return, with that also the overstimulation. Mingyu had pulled out, his eyes fixated on your entrance, watching as his cum floods out of you.

You whimper in protest when you feel his fingers collect his cum and push it back inside of you.

"Mingyu--'s too much."

"I know baby. I know." Mingyu replies, continuing to finger his cum back inside of you. "Gotta make sure nothing spills. Let's hope that does the trick, huh?" He smiles at your goofy grin. "How about we take a bath to relax, how does that sound?"

"Sounds good." You agree, only half-realizing what is happening. The other half of you is exhausted after the events of the past hour or so.

"Good, I'm gonna take care of my future baby-momma." Mingyu whispers, kissing your cheek and getting up to run the bath. "I love you."

#seventeen #svt #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut

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cerealandchoccymilk · 11 months

Text

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapters #00-01

all | next

lets fucking do this

I'm annotating every chapter of trigun, both the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read). Literally just writing down everything I notice about details, version differences, translation notes, etc. and also being gay about the characters. happy pride month

I had other stuff to do today yesterday so I only got through a little bit but pace will pick up tomorrow today (1 volume/week is faster than i thought...)

Here are the beloved non-analysis sillies...

And there are just so many annotation images so I just put the rest under the cut <3 read my notes boy

[edit: why aren't the images not being side by side like i want them to i hate this. here's the url for my blog page with correct formatting] [edit 2: i guess it's only on desktop, not on mobile. so that's good]

First thing I noticed was the difference in the number of volumes, or the number of chapters in each volume. In my JP copy, volume 1 ends at Chapter #07: Rem, while Overhaul (and I assume every version after the first JP print) ends at #12: River of Life.

Anyways onto the actual images

21st of July - !! didn't notice [that the July incident actually happened in July] during 1st read b/c months are only numbers in Japanese 11 hours after destruction - July incident was 2am

For some reason I thought he was standing this whole time. unneccesary details georg

Estimated age: 24 - Official age for his appearance? dang he's young Appearance - "Place of origin/birth," not "what he looks like" The worst kind of outlaw, and an unrivalled killer. - Added in a later version? (not in my JP copy but the phrase is familiar)

This blank space originally had the Japanese translation for the board.

We see his serious expression already! I don't remember '98 doing so this early on so it's pretty notable to me...

Just thinking about how Vash counted each individual gunshot being fired during all that chaos... dear god.... During my first read/watch I thought it was just silly Rule of Cool protagonist moment but not really. This guy actually has Insane perception, either from being a plant or sheer practice. Or both.

Also immediately after all that, I really love the way the aftermath is shown here. The only things you can hear are the creaks of the light and the crying boy. It really brings out the tension in the atmosphere.

Finally, something other than unneccesary bits! If you look at the flooring under the toy gun, the perspective lines are pointing SW-NE. This corresponds to the flooring on Vash's right, whose right arm is also suspiciously out-of-frame... This is definitely the moment he took the toy gun. I can't express the amount of Holy Shit I felt when I realized this. The detail!!!!! man!!!!!!!!!

There's a little translation error here - it should be something like "Even if he were still alive, he wouldn't be able to move an inch!"

One of my favorite Vash moves with one of my favorite Tumblr heritage posts.

This is not really based on any drawn details, but I think this is the moment that Vash readies the toy gun, puts it in his pocket, and picks up the ketchup. Do Not trust this man when his arm is not visible. Also finger still in gun <3 doing his part blocking one bullet at a time

And here we have Vash's first COOL cool moment!!!!!! cue my homo screaming. goddddddddd im so mentally unwell about him. agh I also absolutely love when Nightow does that thing where he screen-tones a character's skin just because. It pops!! It's unique!! I love it!! I eat it up every time!!!

Here's where I realize that Vash's hair antennae are pointing straight up. I should be on the lookout for when he makes the transition to the M-shaped antennae we know and love.

Also, a little untranslatable joke from the Japanese version. In Japanese, this guy calls out at Vash like "And you, don't provoke him!" except it's written with the kanji for "Hunter" (狩人 karyūdo), with a ruby pronunciation note saying "you" (おまえも omaemo). These kanji/ruby mismatch jokes are never not funny and it's so sad that there's no way to keep them in without doing...this lol

The "I counted!" reveal never fails to get me. holy shit. I love the little boy's expression when he gets his gun back :) You helped!!! and you don't have to have the real deal to be cool as balls!!!

Just lumping this with the previous two because it's a tall image, but another small translation error. Rather than being about doing harm, he's talking about recieving it (～～はゴメンだ is a hard-to-catch phrasing/idiom; it's already been discussed with the translator on a different instance). It should be more like "[...But] nobody likes getting hurt, right?"

THE GIRLIES YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not including the dialogue because. y'know. At least they get (accidentally) Bonked by Millie :) get their asses

Here, the order suggestion is made by somebody off-screen, but in the first edition, it was made by the cook himself. (left image annotation says "the storekeeper(cook) is so nice!")

That's it for chapters #00-01! I'm going to keep having Category 5 Autism Events every day aren't I.

It's literally 1:20am as of finishing this post because my computer won't stop crashing. Posting this first thing in the morning tomorrow <3

Also, the Japanese copy of the annotations will be in the reblogs for anyone who wants to see them. The emotions are Rawer and they're phrased way less awkwardly... if you can read them lol

#trigunbookclub #trigun annotation #i guess?#trigun #trigun manga

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epickiya722 · 5 months

Note

Happy holiday.... What do you think that made Yuuji is so likeable as a character? I've only been in the JJK fandom for a year, and I've seen a lot of other JJK characters' stan. But one thing in common, they all love Yuuji and mostly will include him in their top 5 fav JJK charas (including me :D)...

Okay, in general I don't know, but I will tell you why I find him likeable!

For one, it's his design. Yuji's design is actually one of my favorites in JJK. That pink hair + brown eyes combo? Love it. The touch of red on his uniform, I like that, too. Since when I got into JJK, I started with the anime and then the manga, I didn't know Yuji used to have blond hair.

Neither way, I like it! I find both colors fitting for him.

And it's not just his features, but also how he's animated/drawn. He has a range to him that I just love so much. It reminds me of how my other favorite, Izuku Midoriya from BNHA, has a range.

Yuji will literally look like this one minute!

And then look like this the next!

Of course, with everything he's been through, he's going to look different, but you get what I mean! 😆

Another reason is his overall personality. First episode/chapter alone with clock you on that he is a goofball with gets along with people, but he's not a pushover. He care about others and has a good heart. He's just so kind and energetic. His energy easily matches up with other hyper characters like Satoru and Kugisaki.

He's willing to sacrifice himself just to save someone and really, it's also a sad part of his character. He later on gives into the idea that he is just a cog in a system. He accepts death, deciding to help as many people as he can before his time is up. It leads to him going through so much as the story goes on to the point that he isn't exactly the same as he was before.

On a funnier note, he's just this strange kid to me. Like, Yuji finds a love story within a movie called Human Earthworm. Those dolls Yaga be making? Yeah, he calls one "creepy but cute" and even Satoru Gojo questions it "this thing is cute"? When Megumi tells him about Sukuna's finger and curses wanting it, wanna know what Yuji asks? "Why? Is it good?"

YUJI, IT IS A FINGER?!

He didn't even freak out when he saw Megumi's Demon Dogs.

Love his strangeness though. It's an endearing part of him to me.

Adding on, I adore about him is his overall skillset.

Yuji didn't even have cursed energy or any special techniques, but he was already capable of breaking records and outrunning cars. So much so that he gained a nickname like "Tiger of West Middle" and believed to be the reincarnation of Mirko Cro Cop, who is an actual person who is still alive.

His strength is so powerful that he was even given curses like Hanami and Choso a hard time fighting.

On top of that, it wasn't as if Yuji needed to go through a training session to learn basic fight skills. He was already beating ass before curses!!

Yuji is also a quick learner. Apparently, Black Flash is a move that is difficult to accomplish, yet Yuji was told about it for a couple of minutes and managed to delivered several Black Flashes within that same time frame. And if you count the amount of Black Flashes that has happened in the series so far, Yuji has executed the most at 8 - 10. Yuji is also able to adapt to the fighting style that whoever he is fighting alongside has. He has done it with Nobara, Aoi and Megumi. Three different styles, yet Yuji is able to work with each of them like nothing.

One more thing, is his relationships with other characters.

Again, Yuji is a sweet guy so it's easy for people to take to him and be his ally. It's not even just him being sweet, but there's also his other personality traits and skills. He was able to impress someone like Aoi Todo. There are not a lot of characters on the same wavelength as Satoru because of his personality, but Yuji is one that is. Even Megumi, one of the grumpiest characters, takes to him.

And while I do love the positive relationships he has, there's also the negative ones I like, too.

Out of all the characters, Yuji's clash with Sukuna is the most entertaining to me. That is not to say that the other relationships are boring.

It's just that with these two are so different. So very different, yet share a few things in common that makes my brain get to working and then I have thoughts I have to write down.

Really, that's all I have to say for now!

Yuji Itadori is a favorite of mine, the #1 on my list. I don't blame others for liking him, too, because to be for real... Yuji is a character I can't imagine anyone genuinely hating. Like... how can anyone, I don't know! Maybe not care for him? Not everyone has him as a favorite character, I'm sure.

I mean, I have seen people say they prefer Yuta or Satoru as the main character (makes no sense to me, I highly disagree, if either of them was the main character of the main storyline, then it would be a totally different story, HELLO, and I do like those two).

I have seen people call him "weak" and "useless" for losing to Choso as if Yuji didn't give Choso a hard time even after running around and fighting curses and curse users before then. "Yuji should stick to jumping". Yuji be doing 98% of the jumping, stop it now I'm exaggerating but you get it.

I'm just saying, Yuji could do almost all the crazy stuff a lot of other characters do without hesitation, but I doubt anyone else would be able to willingly, without thought, swallow a finger that looks like that like Yuji has. That kid is a menace, but an absolute sunshine and I adore him.

#kiya answers #kiya answers questions #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #itadori #itadori yuji #yuji itadori #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #that's my tiger cub!#💖🐯👊

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1-800-whatwouldbillydo · 1 year

Text

Dissecting Character Scenes: Billy Hargrove

*I say that like he’s not the only character I analyze lmfao- anyway*

His Hand Movements

The above movement is what I do when:

I’m nervous. For one, it helps me calm down. Since anxiety is essentially unwanted energy, it helps deal with me being an overcharged energizer bunny by using that energy in a non-harmful way.

I get too in my head, and I need to ground myself.

I’m thinking.

I’m about to talk to someone or do something. When you overthink, or when you have a lot on your mind, even talking to people is something you feel like you need some preparation for. Especially when you’re in a completely different environment, and you have to start over.

I need to remember something, like the “script”. What am I going to say to Person A? What are they going to do? How are they going to respond? How should I respond? These scripts are like mental teleprompters. I play numerous scenarios in my head, and I prepare a bunch of responses to them, whether it’s physical or verbal. It’s an internal peptalk. Sometimes you cancel out the responses that you don’t think will apply, and you zero in on what you’re going with. Needless to say, it takes some time to always do this, which you aren’t always offered.

When you live with an unpredictable abuser, you’re walking on eggshells. It can require you to apply extreme control over your tone, your volume, your facial expression, and your words. They nitpick at everything you say, so you learn to think before you talk. You have to take a step back somehow, collect yourself, and keep a level head, which is hard in an environment like that.

The impressions other people have of you can get you in trouble with your abuser. Whether you’re late for a class or you don’t turn in an assignment, the last thing you want is for someone to call your abuser.

They count on you to mess up somehow, so they have a “justification” to punish you. If you talk back or raise your voice, they can see this as a green light, because they’re making you react. And your reaction, no matter what, will probably piss them off.

So, thinking things through, including your tone of voice and what comes out of your mouth, are things you tend to pick up in that sort of environment.

Scene #2

How am I going to handle this?

That’s what I find myself asking when I find myself in an unknown situation where I need to measure my response. The unknown tends to be borderline suspicious. Sure, living with someone like Neil can make you paranoid, but you’ve got some built in red flags in your court. You pick up things that others may not. To you, it’ll probably be common sense. In this situation, it IS common sense for Billy to be suspicious of Steve.

Flying off the handle immediately isn’t Billy’s style. It takes a considerable amount of control to even talk to Steve. Neil had shaken him up, and then Billy dealt with Karen. Now he’s having to deal with Steve lying to him about where Max is. But he uses force as a last resort. So much happened to him before this particular scene, that he was most likely a bundle of emotions and anxiety by the time he drove up to the Byers’ house.

While the audience knew what was going on, Billy didn’t. The fact that he actually tried to talk to Steve shows that he didn’t want for there to be a fight. He just wanted to get Max home.

“I don’t understand” is quite literally his theme all throughout his life. The entire time he was in Hawkins, he did not understand what was going on.

@ickypuppi3 pointed out that he fidgets so much with his fingers, like that scene with Max in the car at school when he’s holding his cigarette. The anxiety really comes through when he’s about to do something.

Scene #3

Like in this scene, where he’s prepping to face Neil, who’s banging on his door, signaling that he’s in a hotheaded mood. How Neil’s “temperature” is will indicate what Billy’s reaction will be. Here, he has to face Neil’s heat with as much of a cool head as he can. He also knows that no matter what he does, Neil will blow a gasket.

GIF credit to @suledins

#when your blorbos are already so much like you that self-projection is bullshit #Dissecting Character Scenes #ch: billy hargrove #character analysis #neil hargrove #billy hargrove #billy deserved better #billy hargrove character analysis #billy hargrove deserved better #tw mentions of abuse #just in case #every-dayiwakeup #i am once again spreading my 'billy thinks things through and has more patience than people give him credit for' agenda #if you see any errors #no no you dont ✨️✨️✨️

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biffhofosho · 7 months

Text

Le Cirque du Fantasme | Part One

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Smut, natch

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Jooheon/Changkyun/Minhyuk x OC

Synopsis: Step right up! Step right up! Come one, come all to a celebration of the macabre, the daring, the enticing, and the beautiful. Inside this tent is another world—one that will challenge your senses as much as your soul. Nowhere else on Earth can you experience such an awakening. Just take caution—once you are awake, you’ll find it hard to ever go back to sleep.

The Vibe: Third person (as always), fall fog, small town, lost and found, night circus, inhumans, the seen and the unseen (heh), everything fantastical and provoking, wonderstruck OC, questioning reality, copious amounts of worldbuilding leads to copious amounts of smut, foursome, suspension, light bondage/shibari-adjacent, temperature play like woah, sexual oneupsmanship lol, acrobatic sex yw

A/N: Literally the second the opening bars hit on “Daydream,” I knew I was going to write an October fic to it. Not only that, I knew exactly what it called for.

I had originally intended to publish multiple October fics, same as last year, but since I boned myself over with my earlier writing hiatus, the least I can do is give you a twoshot. This is my love song to my readers who love worldbuilding as much as I do. I didn’t try to rein in the muse this time, so hopefully you disappear into another reality entirely with me. Also—

Since it’s October, when we do get to the smut, I, um, went slightly more deviant than usual ahahaha. .-.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03

“Oh, no.”

Mariam is aware that, all things considered, she is under-reacting.

She is lost when there is no reason for her to be lost.

Only minutes ago, she was walking home from her late shift at the diner, and now she is wandering through fog as thick as stuffing and woods where there should be sidewalk. It’s nighttime, but it’s doubtful that even in daylight things would change. Even with the pale moon, she can neither see where she has come from nor where she is headed.

The fog has muffled every sound like a pair of noise-canceling headphones. She can hear only the crunch of dry leaves under her boots. And, yeah, it’s late, but where’s the traffic? She always passes a few cars on the road. She realizes that is exceptionally weird, but there’s nothing to do but move forward. Carmel isn’t very big; she’s bound to wander into one of the old cemeteries any moment, and then she’ll know she’s close to her apartment.

Still, the woods are a little concerning. Town might be tiny, but if she’s somehow wandered into the woods around Ninham Mountain, Mariam could be lost for hours. The state forest is huge and full of lakes, and she is definitely not on any sort of trail at the moment.

Slowly, her usual cavalier attitude wears thin. It’s getting cold. The chill of autumn bites at her through her flannel, and she withdraws her fingers into her sleeves before they can chap. The further she walks into the fog without a guidepost, the more nervous she gets.

“Idiot!” she curses at herself.

Suddenly, it dawns on Mariam to check her phone. She fishes it out of her bag to find she’s been walking for ten minutes, which is her usual walk home, but she can’t see a single building let alone a sidewalk. Foolish as it is, she decides to map her route, but something much more alarming happens.

No signal.

She cannot call. She cannot text. She cannot even access her GPS.

The little marker on the map has her floating in a blob of gray, which is ironic considering she is unmoored in a cottony swab of nothingness.

“Oh, no.”

This time, at least, Mariam is painfully aware that her reaction is right on point.

She keeps her phone in hand now in the hope of catching a wisp of signal. She doesn’t feel like she’s walking up hill—she doesn’t feel like she’s moving at all—but in the hopes that she is, maybe she’ll pick up the cell tower. Realistically, she can’t have gotten that lost in ten minutes.

Her ears perk. She hears something other than her own feet, and she stops to make sure she isn’t hallucinating it.

Nope, that’s music all right. It’s just really, really weird music. Like someone’s playing organ music, but it’s definitely not from the Baptist church. It’s too… whimsical?

Mariam cocks her head. It reminds her of something. She can’t remember what, but something from her childhood, she’s sure.

With no other options, she walks toward it. At least she’ll find one other human out here who can give her some directions.

She turns on her flashlight, but it just rebounds off the fog and blinds her. Mariam stumbles against a tree and waits for the flood of brilliance to wash from behind her eyes. When she opens them again, the fog has miraculously thinned.

She’s definitely in the woods, not one of the little town parks or someone’s backyard but somewhere wild and unmanicured. The trees are spindly but thick, almost claustrophobic. There’s still no sign of a trail, and yet it seems like she’s on one. In fact, she can see it laid out before her, free of brambles and thickets and fallen trees. The fog is thinner there, too, though all along the sides of her, it’s as dense as cinder block.

The only thing that makes sense is following it, so Mariam does, and as she walks, the music gets louder. It also becomes more familiar. Maybe it’s because she’s lost, but something about it is so inviting. If notes can be colorful, these are positively flamboyant. She finds herself smiling in the fog.

The trail-not-trail bends and when she rounds a big boulder, she sees it.

There, in a glade cloistered by a lush canopy of fiery red maples, squats an enormous circus tent replete with a black flag snapping in a breeze that she can’t feel. The tent is striped white and black, high contrast even in the dark. There’s a long entrance tunnel, and at its maw is a ticket window lined with warm white lights. It glows like a lighthouse, and Mariam finds herself drawn into its harbors.

There’s a man in the window. He’s the most intense blend of handsome and cute she has ever seen. If she looks at him from one side, his eyes are thin and sharp, and they cut through her like razors, but if she looks at him from the other, his dimples cup his playful mouth as though they can barely contain his inner vibrance. His hair is darker than the night itself, making his skin look white as starlight by comparison, but the booth lighting frames his head like a halo. He’s an impossible mix of everything all at once, and she has never seen his equal.

Mariam steps to the window with an overwhelming sense of intimidation.

“Welcome, fair lady,” he says. His voice is potent. He says each word with a confidence that she has never felt in her whole life even at her best, and she finds herself captivated in the span of five syllables. His eyes dance as he studies her. “You’re just in time.”

“For what?” she asks.

“Showtime, of course. I was just about to close the ticket window, but lucky for us, I didn’t.”

It’s kind of a weird thing to say, Mariam thinks, but his unswerving confidence makes her reconsider.

“Actually, I was just looking for directions?” she says with more of a question than she intended.

“It seems to me you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Again, his conviction makes her question hers.

“I wasn’t planning on going to a show tonight.” She fishes through her bag and finds the small roll of ones and fives from her shift. Tuesday shifts were notoriously poor payouts, but a traveling outfit this elaborate has to cost a pretty penny considering how exclusive it must be out here in the middle of nowhere. “How much? I don't have much cash on me. You take cards?”

“Those little plastic rectangles?” he replies with a flippant smile. “Pointless.”

Mariam frowns. “Then I don’t think I can afford it.”

He leans across the counter, almost through the window itself, into her personal space. Her hands fly to her chocolate locks and gather them to one side, twisting and twisting it as tightly as she feels her stomach twisting.

“Oh, admission is very reasonable,” he assures. This time when he smiles, it feels like he’s keeping a secret. He presents a golden ticket, the glossy paper winking as it turns between his well-manicured fingers. “Admission is only a dream.”

“A dream?” Mariam says skeptically.

“Just that, miss. In exchange for the best dream you’ve ever had, we will provide you with a new one. Seems like a fair trade, yes?”

“It would be if I knew what you were talking about.”

“I promise you’ll never experience anything else like this.”

Her brow furrows as she glances up at the big top. “I don’t even know what this is.”

The ticket-taker pouts, and his lush lips fatten to sumptuous thickness. “I’m afraid the show must start, miss. Do we have a deal?”

Mariam considers. This isn’t why she came—no, wait, she didn’t intend to come here at all—but she is here now, and this charming ticket monger is next to impossible to resist. What’s the harm in telling him one single dream? He doesn’t need to know about that particular dream.

And, anyway, it’s not like he’s conning her out of any money. In essence, it’s some free, entertaining shelter from a foggy night. She weighs her options and makes her decision.

“Am I supposed to, like, write it down or something?” she asks.

“Just lean in,” he instructs.

Hesitantly, Mariam tips forward over the counter, and for a brief second, his plump lips ghost along hers.

She should jerk back. She should slap him. But she does nothing but let him kiss her like the night mist. She is frozen as a current of muddy feelings spill like water from her lips. The back of her brain tickles a bit, but it’s overruled by the more pleasant tickle of his lips dusting over hers.

When he’s done, he licks his lips, which have curled into a tiger’s grin. His eyes are lively, and he’s panting lightly. He clears his throat and adjusts his hips in his pants somewhere behind the counter.

“How delicious,” he practically purrs. “I may have to keep that one for myself. I almost feel bad for taking it from you, but I promise the replacement will exceed it.”

He presents the golden ticket, and Mariam takes it. She expects it to feel like paper or maybe metal, but instead, it feels gauzy, and she can't stop rubbing her thumb over it.

“Straight through there, fair lady,” he says. “The show is about to start, and a whole new dream awaits you.”

The ticket monger holds open the black curtain, and she enters the tunnel. The moment the curtain shuts behind her, it is blacker than an abyss. The only thing she can see is a thin, shimmering line of light at the far end.

Outside, she hears the snap of the ticket booth closing, and she knows she is alone. The music is louder now, drawing her forward more powerfully than ever, and she realizes why she recognized it in the first place. It rises and falls and scampers and twirls, almost as though she can see the notes surrounding her, teasing and laughing at her. It is the song of childhood, of delight and fantasy.

It is the song of the circus.

There are smells here, too, familiar and unfamiliar. There is the buttery warmth of popcorn and, beneath it, something much more unctuous, a bit like when the cooks at the diner render the lard for the pie crusts. There's a hint of something acrid too, and it reminds her of the smell of her father's rifles.

Mariam follows the tunnel to its end, where she parts the drape only to be assaulted by the brilliant spotlights surrounding a huge red ring. There are seats seven layers high around three sides terminating at a ring entrance shuttered by another heavy curtain, but this one is three times as tall and wide as the entrance she just came through. Just surrounding the ring are four enormous tent poles soaring to the canvas above, where wires zig and zag across the arena and café lights accent each black and white stripe, softening the harsh spotlights.

The ticket-taker is there to greet her as though he has never seen her before. He beams at her, those dimples creasing his plump cheeks. Mariam approaches with her ethereal ticket in hand and starlight in her eyes.

“What’s this? A golden ticket?” says the man with a sharp eyebrow raised. “We have ourselves a VIP tonight it seems. You’re in for a truly mesmerizing experience, miss. Follow me. I will show you to your seat.”

He does not take the ticket from her after all but, instead, leads her across the ring itself toward a pair of empty seats in a box on the floor.

“VIP?” she says as she struggles to keep up with his commanding steps. His thick black boots thunk across the floor and resound under the big top. “But I didn't pay you anything for it!”

“But you did,” he insists. “The most tantalizing dream gets the VIP treatment. After all, we have to work harder to replace what we have taken.”

Mariam tries to remember the dream she’d thought about before she entered, but where her brain searches for the memory, it finds only the lingering taste of his lips, which she savors like berries ripened by the moon until they’re ready to burst. It’s a bit of a silly thought, yet dark, sweet juice coats her mouth and whets her appetite for something even darker.

They stop outside the box seats, and the dimpled man holds open the door with a question on his face. “You want VIP, don’t you?”

“I do,” she finds herself answering.

This broadens the man’s shoulders, and now he smiles so widely that those thin eyes shut under the powerful force of his bright cheeks. “Your private seats then, my fair lady.”

Mariam sits on one of the velvet-padded seats as he closes the door and offers her a sweeping bow like the showman he is. The ticket-monger-turned-usher disappears now behind the backstage curtain, and she has little doubt she will see him in the show, most likely as a clown judging from his over-the-top antics.

As she tries to relax into her seat, Mariam spares some time to look beyond the open stage and see what other lost souls have stumbled into this weird circus. She wonders if she’ll see any of her friends or coworkers in the stands.

She does not. What she finds is far more unnerving.

There are only a dozen or so other spectators in the stands. None of them sit anywhere near each other. They are spread throughout the whole tent, high and low, mostly in shadow because the spotlights are fixed downward in the ring. At first, she thinks they are strays like her, but as they wait for the show to start, Mariam begins to doubt they are even human. If she looks at any one of them head on, they look like normal people, mostly men but a few women, too, but from her periphery, she swears she sees the jaws of a wolf or the skin of a lizard or even a pair of antlers when she turns her head. Most have eyes of glinting gold exactly like those she’s seen along the road when her high beams catch just so.

And there are fangs. Fangs everywhere, some long and thin, some fat or even serrated.

One of them, a thin, hunched man with mottled scales in patches all over his body, is eating from a black and white striped carton which might usually house popcorn, but it definitely isn’t, and he isn’t eating whatever it is with his hand but with quick snaps of a lightning-fast tongue.

Mariam is growing uncomfortable again. She had thought this place might get her back home, but it has taken her somewhere far more foreign, and she’s feeling more alone than ever. She has felt different a lot in her life but never like an actual alien.

She should probably be more scared than anything, but none of these people—creatures—are looking at her. They are all looking toward the ring. Nobody speaks although she swears she hears a snort from one side of the arena that someone echoes on the other side with a series of strange clicks.

She wishes the berry-lipped man would come back and take the seat beside her. She can’t be sure he’s human now either, but she trusts his smile and his dimples, even if she shouldn’t.

Just when Mariam is ready to dart to the exit, music swells anew. It is far more powerful than the spirited diddy that lured her here. Under the big top, the organ booms and the drums thunder, and everything feels like it’s spinning like a carousel.

“Strangers! Friends! Denizens of the dark and light dwellers alike!” comes a voice of unquestionable power from somewhere backstage. As far as Mariam can tell, there is no sound system. It's just the voice of a true entertainer filling the canvas wall-to-wall. “The time has come to revel in the greatest spectacle the night has ever seen. Pretense, common sense, even the very laws of nature itself, have no place under this canopy. What you will experience tonight will challenge your very perception of reality. Nothing you have seen before tonight can prepare you for what you are about to see. At times, you may think you have wandered into a dream, but I assure you, what you are about to witness is so much more. Welcome—”

The backstage curtains sail wide with a snap and a flutter, and a man bursts through, his arms wide and his dimples shining in the spotlights.

“—to Le Cirque du Fantasme!”

The audience applauds, rather lackluster Mariam thinks for the passion of such a lofty introduction, so she tries to clap just a little louder than everyone else. After all, she is getting the VIP treatment, so she should return the favor.

The man rises from a bow that completely folds him in half, and she shakes her head in awe. She had expected—hoped—to see him again, but she is not prepared for the striking figure the former usher cuts in his crimson crushed velvet coat. The tails swish at the back of his knees as he laps the ring. Diamond buttons splinter in the light as does the sweat already beading at his brow.

“I am Jooheon, your ringmaster, but I am also your guide. For every wonder you experience tonight, I will be by your side to remind you that what you are witnessing is indeed real. Together, we will discover there is magic left in the world if you know just where to look.”

He stops in front of the VIP box and tips his head with a smile just for Mariam, and then he is gone.

Back in the center of the ring, Jooheon enumerates the many wonders on their horizon, impossible, tantalizing things that cannot be real, yet the more he promises, the more she believes him. Thanks to this man’s unprecedented versatility, she is also starting to believe this is a one-man circus. Maybe he will perform all of the spectacular acts he’s teasing.

But Jooheon confounds her again. With a dramatic swoop of his hand, he draws the audience’s eyes to the massive curtains at the rear of the tent, and slowly, the heavy fabric parts by unseen hands.

Mariam’s seat trembles. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it, caught up in the ringmaster’s passion, but then it trembles again and again, and she realizes they’re tremors.

No. Footfalls.

The arena is dead silent.

Thwomp. Thwomp. Thwomp.

The face appears first in shadow—a great black snout snuffling so strongly that the curtains puff. Even through the veil of backstage, the eyes are clear and bright, an otherworldly metallic green that flash the same sort of gold that some of the audience members possess.

Another footfall, and the muzzle appears, ornamented with thick black lips fringed by snow white and overhung by two bone-shattering fangs as long as her hand.

Since Mariam sits off to the side, the eyes do not seem to perceive her, yet she tucks her legs up against herself and ducks her head to peer from behind her knees as the rest of the creature emerges to fill the ring.

It’s a wolf—if one can call it that. It’s nearly twice the height of a horse and just as broad. Its fur is white all over save for the silver tips to each hair that make it sparkle in the spotlight. Its chunky claws click on the ring floor as it shuffles into position.

Mariam relaxes now. Maybe it’s because Jooheon is standing there unbothered by its haunches or maybe it’s because its face is rather doglike despite its other ferocious features or maybe it’s the fact that its tail is wagging, but most likely, it’s because a man sits astride its great shoulders, scratching its fluffy ears.

“Friends, behold!” trumpets Jooheon. “Our Amorak and our beastmaster, Shownu! Together, they will take us on a journey through the world of creatures long considered too elusive or vicious to be tamed. Many have been laughed at for believing the campfire tales or legends of our ancestors, but for Shownu, these legends are not legends at all but friends and allies, and now, they will be yours, too.”

The Amorak sits down, and Shownu releases its mane to slide down its back like a child on a playground. The beastmaster lands easily and pats the great wolf’s backside. With a snap of the man’s fingers, the Amorak stands and side-steps as delicately as a pony so that even a man as imposing and broad-chested as the beastmaster stands beneath the animal, the man’s head at its elbow.

From the shadows beneath, Shownu whistles, and the wolf spins so its back legs face the audience. Another whistle, this one like a see-saw, and the creature wags its tail in huge, careful strokes that send its long fur sweeping the faces of the audience members brave enough to sit in the first couple rows. Laughter rings out. Mariam finds she is laughing, too, and perhaps even a little envious.

As if he knows this, Jooheon saunters over to the VIP box and says, “Fair lady, would you please stand?”

“What?” she whispers hoarsely.

“Now is better,” he teases with his dimples.

The Amorak shifts, and now there is no doubt it perceives her. The beastmaster steps out from the belly of the beast and walks toward her. Mariam shoots up from her seat, less out of fear of the creature than out of respect for its master.

Shownu stands opposite Jooheon at the box and centers his attention on the VIP. There is a gentleness in his face that she could never have anticipated considering his ominous moniker, but Shownu smiles at her very differently than Jooheon ever has. His lips do not part but, instead, sit neatly atop each other in a way that raises his cheeks like two little fresh-baked rolls.

“Hold out your hand, palm up,” the beastmaster instructs in a gruff but inviting voice.

Mariam does so hesitantly, and when her arm is fully extended, the Amorak raises its paw, too, and places it light as a feather in hers. It’s so huge that only a portion of a single blazing paw pad fills her palm. Its long feathery fur tickles her skin, and she finds herself giggling. The two men exchange smiles, and the Amorak lowers its head. It snorts once, and her long hair sails behind her. She laughs harder now, and the beast and the beastmaster withdraw to the heart of the ring again, her body vibrating both from the experience and the tremors of footfalls.

Mariam sits back down, cradling her hand to her chest with a slack-jawed smile on her face.

The duo performs a few other stunts—the Amorak stands on his back legs and wobbles in the circle, as does Shownu, which has the audience cackling, and then it howls, nearly blowing the roof off the circus tent, which sends the audience cowering—before the wolf takes a seat and Shownu takes a post at the curtain.

Another man, this one even broader and more muscular than Shownu, comes out just long enough to shepherd in two sweet-faced animals before he disappears into the back. At first, Mariam thinks they are fawns, but then she sees the tawny wings folded at their backs.

Jooheon introduces these as perytons, not that that means anything to her, but the antlered person she’d caught sight of earlier in the stands cheers and stamps so enthusiastically that the ringmaster practically glows with the praise.

Shownu gets the energetic little critters to perform a choregraphed dance, which would be cute enough, but then they take to the sky, and whimsy becomes awe. The perytons glide and weave just like birds though they snort and snuffle like deer. Mariam is so lost in the spectacle that she barely catches Jooheon’s note that their sweet faces conceal true power, and no sooner does he say this then one of the little deer-birds divebombs the spectator with the popcorn container and, with taloned back legs instead of its hooved front ones, grabs a hunk of what looks like entrails and lobs it back like a baseball to its friend. The other peryton snaps it out of mid-air to devour it, and the sight of a sweet little fawn face gobbling intestines is not something Mariam imagines she will ever forget. The Amorak growls, and the two mischievous babies promptly land, bleating like kids laughing at their father.

After that, Shownu spreads his arms out wide and lifts his powerful chest, and the perytons follow suit, their hawk-like wings fanned out, every feather articulated. There’s no denying the stir in Mariam’s belly as she studies the beastmaster commanding his beasts, for they follow his every command unquestioningly.

The perytons perform a few more aerial tricks of agility with a ball and a ribbon, and when they are done, the buff shepherd from earlier fetches them to the back and then returns, this time dropping a trail of meat into the ring.

From the back inches a gigantic pink blob. The front end is nothing but a gaping maw lined with hundreds of wicked teeth, and… that’s it—it’s nothing but pinkness and horrifying teeth. Again, Mariam finds herself tucking her feet up onto her chair as though she’s afraid it will break into the box and mow her clean off at the knees.

Jooheon explains this is a Mongolian Death Worm, eyeless and earless but hardly helpless. The crowd is instructed to keep quiet since it hunts by vibration, but Mariam quickly sees that is only partly true when the worm reaches Shownu, and the beastmaster stoops down to pat the top of its head while two big nostrils open for a long sniff.

The creature is longer than her father's car and the color of exposed muscle. Its segments undulate when it moves as well as when it eats, which is an awful lot like Taz from the Looney Tunes, she thinks. It should be grotesque, but Mariam can't help but find it adorable as the monster looks up at its master and seems to smile even without eyes and lips.

Through a series of stamps and claps of his hands against the floor, Shownu communicates with the beast. It rolls up and lunges on command, jawless mouth snapping. It roars with the power and ferocity of a sandstorm, and her blood curdles. Then, as if to rub its stubby pink nose in the face of its moniker, the worm curls into a ball that Shownu scoops up in his sturdy hands and lobs straight into the air for his Amorak to catch in its mouth. Finally, the big wolf drops it to the ground, and the giant wad of chewed bubble gum unspools and jiggles itself dry to the squeal of the few audience members who sat too close to the action and got sprayed with giant dog saliva.

As the laughter dies down, however, the ringmaster reminds everyone not so subtly that this is a death worm. To prove that point, Shownu brings out a giant rod with a metal ball on the end and taps the top of the worm's head. It growls—a sound that trembles in the bones more than in the ears, a bit like a building earthquake or an oncoming train—and rears up, and when it does, it puffs out almost twice its width. Fantastic crackles of lightning discharge from its head and arc into the ball at the end of the rod. They snap and pop and sizzle in yellow so brilliant, Mariam has to close her eyes most of the way so she doesn’t go blind.

When at last the worm deflates, panting in the ring, the beastmaster touches the tip of the rod to the metal pole supporting the tent, and a sonic boom shivers the canvas on its rails. The residual electricity stands up every hair on Mariam's arms and, unfortunately, most of her head, too, which she is quick to smooth down. Shownu pats the worm on the head again, and the chubby blob slinks off behind the buff shepherd, rather satisfied for a death worm, she thinks.

After a hearty round of applause, the beastmaster and the Amorak both bow to the audience, and Shownu takes the opportunity to leap between the giant wolf’s shoulder blades. When it rises again, the man sits astride with a nod for the crowd and one specifically for Mariam, and he looks as much like a cowboy on a horse as he does a man on a mythological creature.

Jooheon takes center stage again, and she is struck by just how much the man seems to belong in the spotlight. With a toothy grin, he says, “Shownu, everyone! Please let him hear how much you loved his menagerie of talented friends.”

Applause and cheers ring out, and Mariam joins in extra loudly since she’s still feeling electrified by the death worm.

“For our next act, I invite you to feast your eyes on a man with the strength of a beast, the body of a god, and the face of an angel. But it isn’t just strength he brings to the table, no, no, no, but agility. Straight from the realm of the Fair Folk, prepare to delight in the beautiful brute force and precision artistry of our resident fae, Wonho!”

The ringmaster steps to the edge of the ring as the former shepherd returns to center stage, padding out in bare feet unaccompanied. He is massive, with enormous shoulders corded with muscle protruding from his tank top. Mariam wonders how it doesn’t burst at the seams considering how the rest of his chest bulges against the fabric, but maybe that’s just another part of the circus magic or it’s simply painted on. It's not much different with his pants. The way the fabric stretches around his tree trunk thighs is perhaps even more magical, and she knows she should probably look away, but how can she when it seems as though the man was made specifically to ogle.

His white hair has the faintest hint of lilac, and like the Amorak fur, there’s a metallic glint to it, but it’s nothing to the glint in his emerald eyes. Even from ringside, they are piercing, so green that they seem lit by some internal flame, and when they fall to her, Mariam exhales so sharply that she realizes she’s been holding her breath since he strolled in.

He is carrying something in his enormous hands. It looks like a giant crystal cube, and it warps and shatters the light like a disco ball.

Wonho smiles. It’s as dazzling as Jooheon’s, all teeth but no dimples, and it accentuates just how delicate he is despite his big body. His ears stick out like little butterfly wings, but just before she can be spirited away by such cuteness, he shucks the tank top over his head, and it’s not just the intimidating display of muscle that catches her off-guard—it’s the actual set of wings at his back.

They unfurl, thin and translucent as stained glass, framed in by silver rims as fragile as the mint green panes inside. She thinks there's no way that something so ethereal could possibly be functional, but, as if to prove her wrong, Wonho alights before her eyes toward a crow's nest just above the ring. The wings make a rustling sound, like a stack of papers blown apart at an open window. They beat nearly as fast as a bumblebee’s, and when he pivots in the air, the breeze they make ruffles Mariam’s hair.

He lands on the platform there and puts down the block in his hand. He wipes his hands on his pants and then rubs them together before waving at each group of the audience. To Mariam, he adds a bow.

When he's ready, he takes several deep breaths, that gargantuan chest ballooning with every one. He picks up the block and splays his hands on either side of it, and then she hears the cracking. It sounds like ice when she pours soda over it at the diner, pops and crackles and pings.

His biceps strain and his forearms flex, and the cracking gets louder and louder and louder. Huge fissures zigzag across the cube until there's an explosion. The cube is powder now, piles in his hands and at his feet. Before anyone even has a chance to applaud, the strongman pivots and flaps his wings, and now, it's snowing under the tent. Like an oscillating fan, he swivels from side to side, and Mariam feels the kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks and lashes. It melts instantly, but its dewy memory sends a smile of pure marvel to her face.

Instead of flying down from his perch, Wonho leaps and lands on his feet with a thud so fast that the snow is still falling like glitter on his fair skin. He doesn't bother to brush it off but lets it melt to a sparkly finish that turns him into living art.

He spends a few minutes lifting impossibly heavy objects and then taking to the air with them as though they are beach balls and not anvils and boulders and other ridiculous things. With his hands, he twists pipes into shapes like balloon animals and ties a knot—out of rebar—with his feet.

Another man emerges from the back then, this one long and thin like taffy freshly pulled, but when he steps into the ruthless lighting, she sees his fair skin is covered in delicate iridescent scales. He brings a stool, a mirror, a bow and arrow, and a bullseye. The tall man configures everything carefully while Wonho makes faces at his coworker in the mirror, and Mariam realizes the strongman is just as much a clown as anything.

When everything is ready, the tall man steps back. Wonho does a handstand on the stool, his back to the bullseye and his eyes on the mirror opposite it.

There’s something about the way his muscles lengthen as he contorts that has Mariam licking her lips. The twitches in his forearms as he adjusts, the flare of his ribs under that dewy skin, that illicit bulge urging against the constraints of his lycra pants—Wonho is truly an astonishing sight, and there’s a pang in her heart when she realizes how much of the world will never know his beauty and grace.

When he’s balanced just so, muscles trembling and abdominals squeezing with breath and stability, the other man situates the bow with the arrow already nocked between Wonho’s nimble feet.

The strongman shuffles his hands on the stool seat and achingly slowly bends his legs, arching his chest as a counterbalance. When the bow and arrow are lined up with the bullseye, Wonho grips the bowstring and pulls it taut.

Mariam holds her breath.

Wonho holds his.

The arrow flies.

Straight into the red bullseye.

The small crowd breaks out into uproarious applause, and she finds herself standing as she claps. Wonho bows to them all as the tall man clears out the equipment, and just as the strongman finishes his rounds, the Amorak comes bounding back in.

The audience recoils at the sudden thunderous intrusion, especially since the great beast is growling, but Wonho is unbothered, and only then does Mariam realize there’s a humongous rope lodged in its great teeth. The strongman pats the wolf’s head before he snatches the free end of the rope and shakes the Amorak back and forth. The growling turns to snarls.

Wonho takes to the air, yanking and pulling, those fragile wings beating more ferociously than the snarls sound. The Amorak digs in its claws and tries to pull back, but with a cheeky wave to the crowd, the white-haired fae drags the wolf back through the curtain as though the creature ten times his size is nothing but a tiny terrier.

The room is speechless, which Jooheon is only too happy to discover.

The ringmaster slides right back into the spotlight and trumpets, “Don’t forget to let Wonho hear it if you were impressed.”

Of course, the small crowd erupts, Mariam chief among them. She can’t escape the image of those pretty wings contrasting rock-hard muscle, the kiss of ice crystals melting on ivory skin.

It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. She is shaken to her very core.

“We’re not done yet, folks,” Jooheon promises as he cuts through her existential crisis. “Our next performer is just as sure to wow you as much with his incredible dexterity as his unparalleled visuals. I personally guarantee you have never before seen anything like his act let alone the performer himself. He has come up from the darkest depths of the sea to dazzle and delight you with wonderous abilities only a one-of-a-kind hybrid like himself can conjure.

“During portions of the show, you may feel tempted to enter the ring. For your safety as well as the safety of our performer, I ask that you please use the seatbelts provided at your seat before we begin.”

Mariam looks down and finds that there is indeed a belt dangling from her chair, which seems utterly ridiculous at first, but as she recalls the incredible things she’s just witnessed, she secures it around her waist. Only a moment later, as the click of buckles ding around the tent, Jooheon walks by with a gentle smile, though his eyes are on her secured seatbelt.

He does the same throughout the rest of the crowd while two new men, one with red hair and one with blue, emerge with Wonho from the back and lift a large wooden cover from the center of the ring to reveal a shallow pool of water. They roll the cover off to the side into a metal corral and then linger at the lip of the ring along with Shownu and the man with the scales, who takes up his station closest to Mariam’s booth. Each man turns his back to the stage to watch the crowd instead, and when the man with the scales catches her gaze, the iridescence shimmers to the sweetest pink before it goes white as a sheet.

She has only a moment to reflect on the tall man’s otherworldly elegance before Jooheon clears his throat.

“Introducing: the one, the only, the luminescent Kihyun!”

The lights dim and the gentle circus music that always swells between acts dies entirely. Each of the last two performances had music, but now, it is so quiet, all she can hear is the lapping of the pool.

It is almost pitch black, though there is just enough light to see a figure emerge from behind the curtain.

He is compact and wiry. His bare feet pad across the ring and dip into the pool with the gentlest of splashes. He wades into the center, the water rising no higher than mid-shin, and then he opens his eyes.

Mariam had assumed it was just too dark to see his eyes, but now that they are open, she understands. He’s special.

They shimmer with the same eerie softness of a glow-in-the-dark toy. They don’t have the sharpness of oncoming headlights which force the eyes away, but instead, they draw her in. They beckon. She imagines seeing them looking down at her in the dark of a bedchamber, but she shakes the thoughts away.

He stoops and rifles beneath the water and soon comes up with a handful of rings. One by one, he squeezes them, and suddenly, they glow, too. He drops four chartreuse rings back below the water to glow at his feet but holds on to five others, though each of those are different colors.

Slowly, Mariam realizes it’s not just Kihyun’s eyes or the rings that glow. Pinpricks of light stud his body like a runway, and she can see now that, though he has arms and legs like a man, he is different—he is more. His skin is also unique. Though she can’t be sure of the exact colors, his front is definitely lighter than his back.

He wears a skintight outfit, something streamlined like a full-body swimsuit though its hard to be sure in the wan light, but now, she can clearly see the outline of sharp, articulated fins both on his forearms and his back.

Kihyun divides the rings in his hands and begins to toss them in the air until a rainbow of light streaks through the darkness. He builds speed until it seems that he’s not just juggling rings but bending light all together.

Once he’s captivated the crowd, he begins to sing. It’s not like anything Mariam has ever heard. Her heart slows. Her mind muddles. She forgets things beyond the show of light and the swirl of the melody around her. Kihyun bend a series of “oohs” and “ahs” of varying textures and power and lengths just as he bends the light—masterfully.

He spins. He pivots. He catches behind his back. Through it all, he sings.

Mariam realizes vaguely that her hips hurt where something presses unfairly against her. It’s keeping her from the ring. It’s keeping her from Kihyun. If she could tear her eyes from him, she could figure it out, but she can’t risk a second away from his incandescent frame.

The music stops, and Mariam stops, too, waiting for the next dulcet note. Abruptly, the juggler gathers all but one the rainbow rings in one hand and crouches down to the water.

He rubs the pink ring along the surface in a figure eight, and when he lifts it, it is dripping loudly in the stone silent room. He brings it up to his face, and Mariam can finally see his features clearly—his angular jaw, his strong cheekbones, his sharp eyebrows. Even the bow on his elegant lips is pointed.

He puckers those dangerous lips and blows into the center of the ring. Just like a kid’s wand, a bubble appears, but Kihyun does not easily run out of breath and the bubble stays flexible. By the time he is done, the bubble is almost as tall as he is. With a swift motion, he flicks the ring inside the bubble, and it seals behind it. The surface warbles with the pink light within, and with another gust from his lips, it sails to the ceiling above Jooheon and hangs obediently like a balloon tied off. He repeats the process with the remaining four rings until there is a watery chandelier illuminating the whole room. Mariam catches a glimpse of shimmering aqua on her own skin, hears the burble of the impossibly churning water sphere overhead, but she can't bring herself to look up—only ahead.

Kihyun stoops and scoops a cupful of water, which he then pours into his mouth. At first, she assumes it’s just a necessary part of being whatever it is he is, but then he spits a thin jet of the water into the air, only when he does, it’s colored with the same eerie blue-white light that dots his body. The stream wanes, but he replenishes it with another long draft from the cup, this time arcing the glowing water like a hula hoop as he spins. On the last drink, he blows a trio of bubbles, these ones as small as his fist but infused with the otherworldly luster. He does not pop them but casts them gingerly just above his head where they hang like a halo.

Finally, he fishes back through the water again, and this time, he brings up five already-glowing balls. These, like the rings, are clearly a prop, though half of Mariam wonders if they’re actually shimmering deep sea pearls.

Kihyun starts juggling these the same way he did the rings, establishing a familiar rhythm before picking up speed until he adds a new layer. He closes those firefly eyes and trusts in whatever senses he has left to keep the balls aloft.

Above him, the little bubble crown illuminates his wet black hair, which undulates back from his face as though caught in an unseen current. It is as mesmerizing as the blender-like rhythm the balls seem to be caught in between his dexterous hands.

Sing.

Please sing.

Please.

Mariam thinks she’s said that in her head, but the whispers hit her ear, and she realizes she hasn’t.

The man with the scales encroaches at the edge of her vision, and it’s a crude reminder that there are others in the room beside the luminescent Kihyun.

As though he’s heard her, the juggler opens that exceptional mouth, and more notes pour out, and though there’s no eerie blue light to accompany them, they’re brilliant all the same. Kihyun has a way of singing that sounds as though they’re all underwater.

None of the balls waver even for a second. His unswerving confidence that he will never let them drop is almost as mesmerizing as his unearthly voice.

Again, Mariam feels that pressure across her hips, and it’s becoming more insistent by the second.

She should be in the ring by now. She needs to be. She might go insane if she’s not.

A whistle pierces the air, and Kihyun stops singing. The balls fall together in a discordant splash, and quick as the death worm’s lightning, the juggler raises his arm, forearms out and fins in a full mast. From the tips of those articulations, he shoots something too small to see in the dim light though Mariam hears the little pew-pew-pew-pew-pew as he spins in the pool.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Each massive glowing bubble explodes overhead while the rings inside fall into the hands of his fellow performers and the water rains in a much-needed cold shower over the audience. Mariam lets out a squeal as she is drenched and gulping for air against the wet chill. Goosebumps dimple her from head to toe, and she folds her arms over her chest to generate fresh heat.

The crowd is too stunned to applaud, but Kihyun doesn’t wait for it either. He exits the pool, bows to the stands, and then pads off to the back while the other performers begin the cleanup. Meanwhile, Wonho takes to the sky to buzz over the handful of audience members one by one, spinning around so his wings beat like a fan over them. He reaches Mariam last, and when he blasts her with air, she yelps and shivers, but in short order, she is dry and happy again in her flannel. He tips his impish head to her and buzzes back to help the others with the last of the preparation, and soon the ring is back as it was.

Now dry and sober, the audience remembers itself, and together, they erupt into riotous applause. Mariam tries to stand for an ovation, but then she remembers the seatbelt, and as soon as she unbuckles it, it’s like a weight is off her lap, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so silly.

“Let him know, let him know!” cheers Jooheon as he takes center stage again. “You’ll never see another one like Kihyun, folks.”

Of that, Mariam is certain. She claps fiercer than ever even as her cheeks color at the memory of his voice.

“I’m sorry to tell you we have but two acts to go,” Jooheon laments, and Mariam laments with him. She feels the dread even before he says it. But he brightens immediately and surges forth in a sweeping circle around the room. “But the good news is they will both delight, confound, and astound you.

“First up, from far across the seas, on an untamed mountain, comes a beautiful and elusive man who both defies your notice but also demands it. Don’t let the sweet face fool you, he is wild and unpredictable and harbors a true hunger for adventure. Prepare to thrill as he risks life and limb to take you to the edge like never before! I present to you… Hyungwon!”

The spotlight centers in the ring, but no one is there and no one emerges from the back either.

“Hyungwon!” Jooheon repeats just as dramatically, but no one appears. Eyes start darting around the room, so, too, do whispers break out. The man in the crimson coat looks back to the entrance. “Hyungwon?”

The ringmaster looks a little nervous, those robust lips pulled tight as he paces the ring edge. He clears his throat.

“My apologies, esteemed guests. Hyungwon is supposed to be nocturnal, but sometimes he drifts off. Just a minute, and we'll get on with the show.”

Mariam sees Wonho darting back behind the curtains while, in the deep shadows at the edge of the ring, she spies the mysterious Kihyun with his arms stacked over his chest as he shakes his head. It's just starting to get uncomfortable, and they're all at the edge of their seats.

“Where is he?” Mariam whispers.

“Boo,” comes a totally different whisper along with a puff of hot breath beside her ear.

Mariam yells and instantly clamps her hand over her mouth as she jukes to the side in time to catch the luminous round face of the man with the scales.

All eyes as well as a spotlight turn to the VIP box to find Hyungwon with this face beside hers, flaunting a toothy grin and cheeks like doorbells begging to be pressed. His laugh is airy and infectious, childlike even, and though he has startled a year of her life from her, Mariam is laughing, too, even as her hand clutches her heart in hopes of slowing it.

How long had he been there without her knowing?

As her pulse slows, she closes her eyes, and when she opens them, he is nowhere to be seen.

Mariam swivels around like a dope, but the new performer has vanished. A few other crowd members laugh, but the patchy lizard man with the long tongue is outright cackling and applauding louder than anyone as though he understands the joke better than the rest of them can.

Jooheon, Wonho, and Kihyun are all laughing, too, so Mariam has to assume this is all part of the man's grand entrance.

And grand it is! Now when the spotlight centers in the ring, Hyungwon strolls into it. He is sporting a pair of leather pants but nothing else, not even shoes, and she can see it's not just his hands and neck and face covered in those scales but his whole body. Like the rest of his features, they are delicate and captivating, almost like glitter sewn directly onto his skin. He throws his arms wide, and she is dazzled by more than just his unique features. He is lean and sinewy with a tiny waist and shoulders as broad as a door.

Colors and shapes dance across his scales in seemingly impossible patterns; even his hair shifts like fiber optics. She recognizes many of the patterns: the tent stripes or the ring floor or the Amorak’s fur; for a moment, he even glows like Kihyun’s strange luminescence. His visual display morphs into a splash of crimson in the exact shape and design of the ringmaster’s coat, which makes Jooheon beam and clap enthusiastically. Hyungwon concludes with the most shocking display of all—he nearly disappears from plain sight by copying the patterns of the backgrounds on all sides.

But then something occurs to Mariam. Hyungwon is almost totally invisible thanks to his camouflage, but the leather cannot follow suit so it looks like a pair of pants floating in the middle of the ring. When he’d been right beside her though, there’d been nothing—not even pants. Shock and more than a little embarrassment grip her body, and she swears the performer knows because he turns to her right then with a very troublesome smile.

Mariam has been so busy being awestruck by their performances that it hasn’t occurred to her to consider how much of them is human when so many parts of them clearly are not. But now the rabbit is out of the hat and she's chasing helplessly after it, wondering what kind of lovers such spectacular beings would be. That's not a thing she should be thinking about looking at a chameleon man, especially because she is a conservative person—she has been her whole life. But sometimes she has thoughts… fantasies. Sometimes she has unusual dreams. There was one in particular she’s often thought of since, in her moments of weakness, but what was it again?

She's so far gone in the illicit thoughts that she nearly falls out of her seat when a motorcycle above her roars. She looks up, and there is Hyungwon at the peak of tent on a platform much higher than the one Wonho had risked. She doesn’t remember the motorcycle there, but it must have been. It sits anchored at the edge of the platform. It has no tires, just rims resting on top of a wire, and though there is a ring securing the machine to the wire, it won’t keep it upright. Beneath it is a perch as a counterbalance, and, of all things, one of the perytons sits on it. Its clawed back feet cling like a bird on a wire.

Hyungwon sits astride the motorcycle, now clad in a black leather vest and a pair of boots. As a whimsical note, some of the scales across his face have blackened into a sunglasses shape. He isn’t tethered to anything, and Mariam can see between his slight twitches and the peryton’s, they are working together to keep themselves upright on the wire.

The engine revs again, and Jooheon raises his hands to incite the crowd. Everyone whoops and cheers, including Mariam, and then Hyungwon zooms ahead.

The bike zips up the slight incline to the other end, where he lets off the gas, and the unlikely pair drifts backwards smooth as a sled riding down a snowy hill. Once they’re back at the bottom, Hyungwon surges ahead again, but he slows when they reach the middle of the line. He cuts the engine, and instead, the room fills with the ping-ping of the wire bobbing under the weight.

Below, the peryton wobbles and tips backwards, clinging to the rail with its claws as it hangs upside down and spreads its wings. Once it’s at full breadth, Hyungwon stands on the footpegs and slowly—tremulously, steps both feet onto the seat before propping one on the handlebars. He, too, spreads his muscled arms, and as the motorcycle glides backward down the slope, little bursts of yellow, like tiny supernovas, fire across his skin. Feathers whisper in the breeze before the crowd roars with the showcase.

Mariam’s heart is in her throat, so big she practically chokes on it. Her skin pebbles with fresh goosebumps because the pair isn’t slowing. In fact, the motorcycle is picking up speed as it glides.

Before they can crash back into the platform, Hyungwon slides back onto the seat and revs the engine again. The peryton swings back upright, and the rider tosses down some dark and messy treat to his passenger.

Mariam assumes it’s over, but then the bike sails even faster up to the peak, and this time when they brake at the top, the peryton rocks side-to-side, and just like that, the motorcycle loops like a propeller around and around the wire.

She screams. So does someone else. Both rider and passenger are completely unbothered.

They whirl backwards down the wire, and it almost makes Mariam sick to watch the spinning. Even worse, as has been happening all night, she thinks again on things she shouldn’t. She thinks on how strong his thighs have to be to hold onto that bike, and she finds herself clenching hers just as hard.

Just as they get to the platform, the peryton startles and takes flight, which immediately flips the motorcycle. Hyungwon plunges from his seat several stories above the floor. Screams ring out all around the canopy.

But not Mariam. She can’t scream. This time, she’s too paralyzed with terror.

This is it. This is going to be the show where something goes horribly, terribly wrong, and as much as she had already been changed by tonight’s performances, this will ruin her.

She feels sick.

Hyungwon’s halfway to his surefire death when the winged creature swoops down casual as can be and grabs his outstretched wrist with its back claw. He drifts like Alice falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland onto yet another motorcycle that Mariam never even saw waiting for him in the ring.

Relief washes through her, and she realizes that over the course of however long she’s been sitting here, she has formed some kind of unnatural bond with the performers. She thinks of them not just as acrobats or athletes but as friends—or, maybe, more disturbingly, something more. Just the notion of them getting hurt tightens every muscle in her body like a winch.

But no one else seems nearly as bothered by the daring risks they’ve just witnessed. As the crowd leaps to its feet, Hyungwon waves and circles the ring on the bike a few times. With a rev of his engine and one final wheelie, he speeds to the back with the peryton in tow.

Jooheon makes his way to ring center as usual, and he’s cheering just as much as the audience. That infectious smile of his stirs the crowd as much as it stirs Mariam’s heart with gratitude.

“How about that, dear guests? I think I can boast with total confidence that that was yet another act such as you have never seen! Another round of applause for Hyungwon and Dyani. Let them hear you.”

The audience doesn’t disappoint. With each act, they’ve gotten more and more comfortable and more and more awestruck. It’s beginning to feel like an impossible ask to ever leave this big top. Yet, Jooheon’s next words send a chill through Mariam’s bones.

“As always, we close our show with the most dynamic performance of all. As you have learned by now, nothing about Le Cirque du Fantasme is traditional, so it must hold true that neither are our clowns. Not only will they take to the skies tonight, but they will take you to new heights with them. Be dazzled as fire and ice harmonize in ways you never thought possible, and, above all, expect the unexpected. Presenting The Flying Fools, Minhyuk and Changkyun!”

The ringmaster steps to the side as the final two performers enter the room.

They move in perfect unison, but that’s where the similarities end. The taller one, with hair like candle flames, presents in vivid detail. His face is shaped like a flame, too, with all the same flickering dimension and undulating contours. His skin is bright and brilliant like his smile only with a sheen to it, and when he spins in the lights, Mariam realizes it’s like a cast of gold dust upon him. She’s not sure if that’s stage makeup or if that’s just part of who he is, but considering his counterpart, it seems like the latter.

The shorter one has hair like snowflake filaments, each strand almost crystalline yet without being actually frozen. Even the cool way he strolls feels like a breeze across damp skin. Though his lines are sharp, borderline cutting, when he steps in the light, Mariam swears she can see through him. He’s sleek when he moves; every line and twitch has a purpose. It’s as though he is untethered and untouchable by everything. It’s almost as though his feet aren’t even touching the floor. She might think he’s a ghost if everyone else weren’t seeing the same thing.

With a pair of synchronized bows, the performers greet their audience silently just as the others did, saving all the talking for their ringmaster. Instead, they start their act with a series of incredible one-upsmanship. The redhead conjures fire in his palm, which the blue-haired man snuffs with a flick of his wrist. In retaliation, he then creates three snowballs of varying sizes into a very sweet but very humble snowman, and the redhead returns the favor by lobbing a fireball under his knee with the unforgiving precision of a meteor. The poor snowman explodes and melts into a puddle while the crowd chuckles.

They make faces at one another as they hurry to build their next assault. One constructs a basketball-sized snowball to the other’s fireball, and with a war cry like two brothers squaring up, they throw at each other. If either is off-target, Mariam will be buried in snow and the other side of the ring will be engulfed in flame, but their aim is true, and the two balls collide with a hiss like punching a hill of sand.

As they mock-squabble, a bar lowers from the ceiling, one side featuring a ring dangling from a chain and the other side featuring willowy baby blue ribbons fluttering as they descend. The two performers continue silently bickering as the redhead climbs into his ring and takes a seat and the blue-haired man winds his foot intricately through one ribbon while he scales the silks.

Once their eyelines are even, the bar raises, and now, the two men soar over center stage a few stories up. Closer to the spotlights, the redhead glitters like a disco ball while, at precisely the right moment, the light pierces the blue-haired man, like sun through a blanket of clouds, and shines down on the ringmaster’s grin.

As the pair reach their pinnacle, they play—not just off of the instruments but each other. It’s organized chaos. The man in the ring rocks like a monkey on a swing, his feet kicking and lifting. At first, it’s art, but then it’s clear his true intent is to toy with his friend. He drops. He swings. He pushes off of his friend’s back like a swimmer off the pool wall.

While the man in the ring flips and threads through his hoop, the man in the straps flies beside him. Thanks to the push, physics draws them back together until they’re rebounding off each other like a Newton’s cradle. Both of them are light and slender, but their sinew flexes with each choreographed move.

Watching them somehow makes Mariam feel strangely feminine, which isn’t something she usually thinks much about. Between work and TV and sleep, she doesn’t spend much time on herself. Carmel is a hamlet, too far removed from the City for the Big Apple to tempt her and too insular to attract outsiders except for the accidental stranger passing through. She doesn’t have to doll herself up because there’s no one in town left to impress, but as the dexterous duo wheels above to a chorus of ruffling silk and clanking chains, she feels soft, pliable even. She wishes she’d had time to change out of her shift clothes or apply some lip gloss. Watching them perform makes her yearn to impress them the way they’ve all impressed her.

Her eyelids droop.

They’re so beautiful. They sail as though the ribbons and chains are merely there for decoration, as though the sky would be their playground with or without them. They might be aiming to make everyone laugh, but Mariam sees beyond that. It’s their artistry she’s swept up in—the way they flick not just their wrists but echo the motion straight through to their fingertips, the way they use every part of their body to sell a complete experience, the way their no doubt countless hours of rehearsal ensures their whimsy looks as effortless as it does unstudied.

The blue-haired man chokes up on one silk as he releases the other and wraps his foot in the chiffon. He spins. He twirls. He sails by his wrist. The ribbon fans like a cape beneath him.

But when he swings too close to his fellow performer, the redhead shoves him playfully out into space to send the blue-haired man arcing over the audience to a chorus of “oohs” and “ahs”. Seeking his revenge, the aerialist slips down the fabric to angle himself like a bullet with an aim for his fellow performer.

At the last moment, the man in the ring latches on to his friend’s wrist, and together, ring and ribbon twine through the air. They circle together before they push apart and rotate like two bodies caught in each other’s orbit. It’s beautiful. It’s hypnotic.

Mariam can’t get them out of her head. Of all the things she’s seen tonight, they ensorcel her every sense. They’re two fools bickering like brothers, but without the bounds of gravity, their playfulness becomes aerial ballet. She wants to be part of the fun.

The redhead climbs on top of his hoop, legs splayed around the supporting chain, and reaches for the chiffon. While he goes high, the blue-haired man goes low, grasping the ring. He looks up at his brother-in-air and pokes his tongue wickedly at the corner of his mouth.

The next thing Mariam knows, the hoop is white with frost, and with a yank, the blue-haired aerialist shatters the ring beneath the redhead’s legs. Frozen metal tinkles to the floor. The redhead grips his chain tighter now, but there’s vengeance in those calculating eyes, and he spins so fast, he looks like a tornado of fire.

His hand lashes out.

He grabs the ribbon supporting his friend’s foot.

Flame marches up and down the chiffon, and the blue-haired man barely has time to unwind his foot and leap to the second silk before the other ribbon is engulfed. It untethers at the loop above and drifts to the floor like a snake made of fire to coil messily beside the shattered hoop.

Both men hang by one hand. The set piece begins to lower, but their rivalry does not slow. Their feet bicycle as they kick each other like toddler brothers, and the room reverberates with laughter. They collide only to push off each other’s thighs, and when they swing back, their arms are outstretched—not for each other but for their opponent’s supports.

The pair stills in the air.

The redhead grips the silk above his friend’s hand, who also has hold of the chain now.

They look each other in the eyes, each confident they have the upper hand.

Chain crackles like a sheet of ice. Fire ignites like a burner.

Their eyes widen. Their cocky grins falter.

They fall.

The pair thunders to the floor, each landing on his own feet thanks to their cleverly choreographed descent. And then they descend into a playground slap fight like the fools they’re promoted to be, which sends Jooheon skittering to center ring to break it up.

The tent is shaking with the crowd’s laughter and applause. Mariam is already on her feet and whooping at the top of her lungs like she’s never done before.

Jooheon raises the redhead’s arm by the wrist and champions, “Minhyuk!”

He does the same to the blue-haired man next as he yells, “Changkyun!”

The crowd somehow gets louder.

“One more time, my friends, for all our distinguished performers!”

Out of the back comes the rest of the circus, including the Amorak and the perytons but thankfully no death worm. Together, everyone fills the ring, the ringmaster front and center. They bow in unison, even the animals, and when they rise, Mariam thinks it’s simultaneously the most ridiculous and most wonderful family she’s ever seen.

The crowd doesn’t seem to take a breath in its cheers. The stands might not be anywhere near packed, but no one would be able to tell because the heartfelt screams—and a couple of animalistic roars, she notes—fill the canvas to the brim.

Jooheon couldn’t look prouder. His dimples have never been deeper. His eyes are little arches. His pearly teeth glimmer. He glows not from the spotlights but from the praise.

“Thank you all for coming! From all of us at Le Cirque du Fantasme, you’ve been a terrific audience, and should our paths chance to meet again someday, we hope you’ll return for another round of unparalleled fantasies. Get home safely, everyone!”

The cheering continues even as the performers head backstage, and once they’re all gone, the guests begin to filter out, each murmuring to the other strangers. It’s clearer now that the lights have come up that the denizens of the big top couldn’t be more different. As far as Mariam can tell, she’s the only obvious human.

She lingers in the VIP box. She’s probably supposed to leave—it’s clear from Jooheon’s well-wishes that they’re all supposed to—and while she’s not afraid of the strange folk after such a show, she just doesn’t want to go.

She’s changed.

She’s not the same Mariam she was when she walked through those striped flaps. How can she go back to her boring, conservative, empty life knowing all that truly surrounds her? It’s like discovering that the world she always thought was flat has a third dimension.

The big top is empty now except for spilled cartons and other litter. Humongous paw prints dapple the dusty ring floor. Motes of dust drift through the beams of light, past the gently swaying extra cache of rings, ropes, and ribbons above.

With a deep, shaking sigh, Mariam resigns herself to her fate. Just as her hand lands on the swinging door to the box seats, the backstage curtains fling open, and the redhead, Minhyuk, and his blue-haired partner, Changkyun, enter.

“Finally!” exclaims Minhyuk in an exuberant voice. “Showtime is always the hardest when you can't open your mouth.”

“I think you’re the only one who suffers on that point,” Changkyun retorts in a much gravellier tone.

The pair take to sweeping up their torched and shattered mess as though they don't even realize they still have an audience, the redhead gabbing away to make up for lost time.

Mariam doesn’t say anything. She’s sure she’s not supposed to be here, and she worries they’ll ban her from ever coming back—not that she’s sure exactly where she is or how she got here. She ducks down a little before she catches herself in her own stupidity. There’s nowhere to hide.

Should she apologize? Hurry out? She could just tell them that their rhythmic aerial battling has stirred things in her that she never thought she’d feel, but that’s probably stupider than trying to hide.

The last act is still emblazoned in her mind when the ringmaster abruptly appears from the back. While the other two men work around the tent, he heads directly toward Mariam as though he never expected her to leave in the first place.

“Well, my dear, what did you think of the show?”

His lips look even fuller and juicier somehow. She’s drunk just on the way they purse and pucker.

“Unbelievable,” she breathes. “I don’t even know what to say about it.”

“And how has VIP been so far?”

Mariam cocks her head to the side. “So far?”

“Did you think your experience ended with the show?”

“Well, yeah.”

Jooheon chuckles. “For the pretty maid in the front row, I offer a truly once-in-a-lifetime upgrade free of charge.”

“What kind of upgrade?”

“Only the most exclusive kind. We’re going to custom build you a dream, my dear.”

Mariam squints. “I thought the circus was the new dream?”

“Well, thank you, but you forget that we took your best dream ever.”

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a blush and a scuff of her boot on the floor. She's getting a strange feeling from his burrowing gaze that she's missing something more important than she’s realized. “But since I don't remember what it is, how do I know you haven't already exceeded it? Tonight was amazing.”

“Trust me, we haven't traded in fair yet. We can do better because… it’s important to me that you remember tonight—and me—forever.” Jooheon smiles at her then, but it’s different than those other flamboyant smiles. This one is gentle and sincere.

“There’s no way I could forget,” she admits shyly.

He looks dubious, but he nods and offers his hand as he opens the VIP box door, too. “Let me see to it then.”

The moment Mariam’s hand slips into his, the ringmaster’s demeanor changes. He’s been the consummate showman all night, but he’s narrowed that influence of his tremendous power to her and her alone. The big top hasn’t changed, but as he leads her to the center of the ring, it’s all much more intimate now.

Jooheon squares up to her and smiles, this time with the faintest hint of a lip bite. His thumbs rub reassuringly over the back of her hands as he takes one step closer.

“We're going to make you the star of our show.”

#monsta x smut #le cirque du fantasme #october vibes #jooheon smut #minhyuk smut #changkyun smut #third person #trilogy

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supermarvel-fics · 5 months

Text

Just Tell Her

merry christmas @poutpoutlilith <3 I was happy to be your squealing santa this year! this is my first time writing for ouat so bear with me, but i truly enjoyed writing every bit of it! thank you to @squealing-santa for hosting!

word count: 3,000

pairing: emma swan x regina mills

rated: pg-13

cw: talks of kinks, mild nudity, heated kissing scenes, intimate themes (no smut)

summary: emma is scared to talk to regina about her biggest kink.

Emma was fierce. Always has been, always will be.

When she arrived in Storybrooke, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She’d stand up to whoever necessary to do the right thing. She could, literally, kick ass and look pretty while doing it. But most importantly, she was never afraid to fight for Henry and his well-being, even if that meant crossing Regina Mills.

Regina Mills didn’t scare Emma. Never has, never will.

Sure, she’s tough and is definitely a force to be reckoned with, but not scary. Not to Emma, anyway. It took Emma a while to break through Regina’s powerful exterior, even after they got together. Regina would swear up and down that she didn’t have feelings for Emma the way Emma had feelings for Regina, but everyone knew it was a façade. It’s what made the people of Storybrooke less frightened. Mary Margaret was fully convinced Emma made Regina tolerable, but Emma knew that Regina had always had that soft spot. She just had to find it.

So, no, Emma was not scared of Regina, but for some reason talking about this to Regina scared the hell out of her.

It happened accidentally the first time—Regina had hugged her and when she pulled away, her fingertips trailed a little too lightly against her lower back. Emma hissed in response, arching away from the fingers and into Regina’s body. She cursed herself for reacting at all, but it was so quick that she didn’t have time to prepare herself.

The remembrance of her kink came flooding into her head and once it was there, it would set up shop for a while. She’d forgotten about it because of the length of time it’d been since she’d been with anyone romantically. Plus, she had to focus on Henry and saving Storybrooke. She didn’t have time to think about what turned her on.

Emma’s cheeks flushed red as she pushed Regina away from her. Regina raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down.

“Are you alright?”

A loaded question. Emma sniffled, waving her hand in the air to dismiss everything that had happened in the last 10 seconds. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I just got a chill.”

Regina hummed and seemed to let it go because then she shook her head and continued to thank her for taking Henry camping so that she could get some work done. Emma absentmindedly kept the conversation going, but the still-there tingling on her lower back was taking up space in her mind. Too much space.

Even after the feeling faded away, Emma replayed the moment over and over in her head, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. She couldn’t help it. Tickling in general can, and will, make Emma turn into goo. Being tickled, watching others being tickled, even just reading the word—it’s her weakness.

And since that small moment with Regina, it was all she could think about.

Emma began secretly wishing that it would happen again. She wanted to feel her nerves pulse as Regina slid her fingers over her skin. But wishing wasn’t enough. No, it wouldn’t happen unless Emma talked about it, which Emma would like to do just about as much as she’d like to go back to Boston.

Though, as time went on and nothing ever happened, Emma began feeling antsy. Needy, even.

The second time it happened was also an accident, but Regina knew it’d tickled Emma. A string from Emma’s jacket was left astray on her neck and Regina reached her hand up and brushed it off. Emma squeaked and shrugged her shoulder up to her ear, a shiver running straight down her spine.

“Sorry,” Regina said, the corners of her mouth tilting up the smallest amount. “You had a string.”

Emma looked at Regina with wide eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “It was fine where it was.”

“It was bothering me. Not to mention it got the cutest reaction out of you,” Regina chuckled. This third time was not an accident, but Emma’s response was. Regina shot her hand up to Emma’s neck again, fluttering her fingers at the soft skin under her ear. Emma giggled, shrinking away and swatting at Regina’s hand.

“Stohop!”

It was an impulse. It’s what everyone says when they’re being tickled. Emma didn’t actually mean it. If anything, she wanted Regina to do it again. But she put the nail in her own coffin.

“Apologies, dear,” Regina grinned, stepping closer to place a soft kiss to the side of Emma’s temple. It was over as quickly as it started and Emma’s heart sank. She knows that people say that when they really don’t want to be tickled, so why on God’s green earth would she say that?

It put Emma between a rock and a hard place. She couldn’t take it back. Not without completely admitting that she liked it. So, she just sighed and continued her work, hoping that one word wouldn’t deter Regina from ever trying to tickle her again.

It did.

Regina hadn’t tried tickling her on purpose, nor had she done it accidentally. Emma was beginning to think that she was making a conscious effort not to and it was driving her crazy. Since that day Regina had hugged her—4 months back—all Emma could think about was being tickled by her. She even stooped as low as trying the oldest trick in the book—getting on her last nerve.

Despite hiding Regina’s favorite blazer and playfully ignoring her when she asked a question, she never tried it again.

Emma eventually gave up. The hope of Regina ever tickling her diminished faster than blowing out a candle. The thoughts were still lingering in her mind, but Emma stopped trying to antagonize her into it.

The fourth time it happened was just a stray of fingers during an impromptu make-out session that was nearing its way towards sex. Regina had pulled Emma out of the office abruptly, claiming she needed her for something important. It didn’t take long for Emma to figure out that ‘something important’ included lazy, yet hot kisses and trailing hands up her body to rip her clothes off.

The rendezvous had made its way to their shared bedroom within moments and Emma and Regina were already half-naked. Emma laid back on the bed and Regina crawled her way on top of her, seductively kissing her way up Emma’s body. Whimpers, moans, and hisses filled the silent room.

It only took a few minutes for Regina’s hands to skim their way up Emma’s body, lightly trailing over her hip bones and up her sides. Emma arched her back and a quiet giggle slipped from her mouth. Regina would have missed it had she not been face to face with her.

“Sorry, sorry,” Regina muttered through a kiss to Emma’s neck, which coincidentally tickled too. Emma smiled and flinched in reflex, but her eyes went wide. It was now or never. This would be the perfect time to bring it up without it being too weird but still, Emma’s heart thumped against her chest like a drum. It was almost painful.

“It’s okay, really,” Emma replied, moaning when Regina reached that spot under her ear. She wanted to say more, but Regina flattened her hands against her ribs and since she was very consciencely aware of where Regina’s hands were placed at all times, she held her breath. Her heartbeat was the only sound she could hear.

“You don’t have to say it’s okay. Especially if you hate it.”

Emma wasn’t sure what she thought Regina would have said, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

“W-what?” Emma tilted her head to see her girlfriend better, giving her a quizzical look. “You think I hate it?” This set-up was almost perfect. It’s as if the situation had literally fell into her lap and she could tell the truth without feeling like she was dropping a bomb.

Regina sat up, sitting on Emma’s thighs and returning her look. “Well, yeah… don’t most people?”

Emma shook her head and raised a brow at Regina’s complete innocence. “Not necessarily,” she said. Regina hummed in response, but Emma was on the verge of telling the truth. The conversation couldn’t stop there. “What made you think I hated it?

“You told me to stop that one time I tickled your neck, remember?” Regina recalled. Of course Emma remembered. It was the only thing she’d thought about for weeks. How Regina’s eyes sparkled with mischief when she realized Emma was ticklish. How she smirked when she playfully flit her fingers on Emma’s neck. How she never did it again because of Emma’s slip of the tongue. And she couldn’t even fault Regina for it because of how easy it was to believe that she didn’t like being tickled. Emma had never brought it up and Regina had never tried before then.

So, now that the conversation had been brought up, Emma would finally tell Regina how she truly feels.

“Yeah, but I don’t hate it,” Emma mumbled, avoiding eye contact, “Everyone says stop. It’s a trauma response.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at Emma. “You don’t hate it?”

Emma shook her head, her eyes still laser focused on the bed sheets crumpled around their legs. Regina didn’t speak for a while. The gears in her head were busy turning as she remembered the signs. How Emma would antagonize her. How Emma would lean into her touch when they’d make out. It all made sense. Regina’s mouth tilted up into a small smile.

“You like it,” she said. A simple sentence that made Emma’s face burn hot. Her heartbeat felt heavier as her body tensed. Maybe this was a mistake. It’s not normal to feel this way about being tickled. Her ex knew that, hence why it was part of the reason he left. Just as Emma felt hot tears spring to her eyes in embarrassment, Regina’s cold hand touched her chin and lifted her head up to look at her.

Understanding. No judgement. Adoration. Maybe a mix of all three. That’s what Regina’s eyes held when Emma finally locked hers onto her girlfriend’s.

“How much do you like it?” Regina asked in genuine curiosity. Emma knew the answer and what she wanted to say, but all the preparations couldn’t have prepared her for this question. “I only ask because I have to know how far I can take this.” A smirk plastered itself on Regina’s face and holy hell, Emma’s heart constricted along with heat pooling in her lower abdomen.

“I, uh—a lot,” was all Emma could muster. She wished she wasn’t so paralyzed with fear even after knowing that Regina is clearly okay with it, but she’d always been this way. It took a lot for her to mention it in her last relationship and it ended with her ex calling it strange. She liked Regina. Loved, even. She just didn’t want to mess this up.

“A lot as in…” Regina lifted her tone into a question to leave it open for Emma, but she just reverted her eyes back down to the bed. “Does it turn you on, Emma?”

If Emma’s face wasn’t hot to the touch, it definitely was now. There are very few things that Regina is shy about and apparently tickling, and the prospect of using it as foreplay, isn’t one of them. Emma swallowed hard giving Regina the answer she was looking for, but she nodded quickly too.

“Look at me, dear,” Regina coaxed, rubbing her knuckles along Emma’s thigh. The pull in Regina’s voice was just enough to make Emma comply, so she sighed and looked up, attempting to find the acceptance in Regina’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me before? We’ve had plenty of sex and you never bothered to mention it.”

“It just never came up,” Emma shrugged. “When it did, I was so scared of what you might say or think that I just couldn’t talk about it.” She bit her lip anxiously and awaited Regina’s response.

“Emma, you can always talk to me. There isn’t anything on this planet that you could tell me that would make me hate you or scare me off,” Regina said, brushing away a stray tear that slipped from Emma’s eye. “I mean, maybe if you told me you eat people, that would be a different story, buhut…” A laugh slipped from Regina’s mouth, which got Emma to smile too. “But this? This is far from scary. In fact, it’s hot.”

Regina lifted her palms from Emma’s legs, leaving just the tips of her fingers to trace lazy and slow circles on her upper thighs. Emma was immediately covered in goosebumps, her hands gripping the bed sheets.

“Where are you ticklish?” Regina asked her lover sultrily, gently pushing her down to her previous position so she could get a good look at Emma’s body. Smooth and fawn-colored skin that Regina could manipulate in any way she wanted once given consent. Her fingers trailed back up to Emma’s hip bones, circling just above the waistband of her underwear. “I think I pulled a giggle from you right about here earlier.”

Emma giggled again, her stomach erupting with butterflies and heat rather than knots and anxiety. “Everywhehere. Pretty much everywhere,” Emma blurted out.

Regina’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That is wonderful news, Emma. Thank you for making this so easy,” she teased, scratching more firmly at Emma’s hips. “Now, I’ll ask you again. How far can I take this?”

“As far as you want,” Emma replied with a small moan interlaced with her words. “My safe word is ‘red’.”

Regina smiled at her girlfriend’s willingness to submit herself to this, the sheer excitement and wanting seeping from her skin. The slightest touch made Emma squirm, which Regina was delighted to see.

“Then, put your hands behind your head. Don’t move them,” Regina ordered, her core clenching at the sight of Emma in such a vulnerable position. Emma did as told and bit her lip through a grin. Her entire body was on display, only her undergarments shielding her from being completely naked. They’d come off eventually, Regina thought. “Good girl.”

Regina placed her fingers on either side of Emma’s belly button, softly spidering them across her stomach. Emma’s abdominal muscles reacted instantly, jumping underneath Regina’s light touch. Emma’s quiet giggles turned into a real laugh, making Regina smile with endearment.

“Oh, you are very ticklish, aren’t you?” Regina cooed as she continued lightly tickling the blonde beneath her. She couldn’t help but notice the tiniest moans and whimpers falling out of Emma’s mouth, the sounds filling her heart with joy and lust. Regina moved her fingers up to scratch at Emma’s ribs, earning her a loud gasp. Her arms shot down to cover the vulnerable area, but Regina halted her fingers, looking down at Emma with an arched brow. “What did I tell you to do with your arms?”

Emma blinked. “T-To put them behind my head?”

“And…”

“And not to move them,” Emma finished her sentence, her cheeks blossoming with a dark shade of pink. Regina adopted another smirk.

“Exactly. Put them back. If they come down again, I’ll have to restrain you, understand?”

Emma wasn’t sure if she could finish on words alone, but she was pretty damn close. She’d never seen Regina so dominant, but she really enjoyed it. So, Emma nodded and placed her hands back behind her head, lacing her fingers together so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Regina didn’t say anything in response to Emma’s compliance. Instead, she resumed tickling her girlfriend’s ribs, grinning slyly when she let out a whine followed by a belly laugh.

“Reginahaha!” Emma cried out, turning her head to laugh into her elbow. Regina tilted her head and let out a satisfied hum at Emma’s reaction. After another minute, she quickly shot her hands up to Emma’s armpits, laughing herself at Emma’s squeal and how fast her arms clamped down on her fingers. Regina continued wiggling her fingers despite them being trapped and Emma’s laugh turned into a cackle as she attempted to roll over to flee from her assailant.

The brunette stopped after a few more seconds and both of their laughter died down. The two of them locked eyes again, Emma breathing deeply to catch her breath and Regina brushing the hair away from Emma’s face.

“You’re adorable,” Regina spoke after the silence had lingered for too long. “I’m delighted to know this information about you.”

“Which part? That I’m ticklish or that I like it?” Emma propped herself up by her elbows and huffed. Regina shook her head and pushed Emma back down for the second time that night.

“Both. Now, I’m not done with you, my dear. As a matter of fact, we’re just getting started,” Regina said, bending down to kiss Emma. They both moaned into each other’s mouth at the contact. Emma reached up to lace her fingers through Regina’s hair, but she put a stop to that quickly by grabbing Emma’s wrist and pinning it to the bed beside her head. “I do believe I said that if you moved again, I’d be restraining you. Did you think I was bluffing?”

Emma rubbed her legs together and sighed. “No, of course not.”

Regina placed her fingertips at the base of Emma’s sternum and slowly dragged them down to her hips, relishing in the pleasurable moans seeping from her lover’s mouth. “Good. You wait here while I get the cuffs.”

Emma watched as Regina swiftly got off the bed and strutted into the closet, watching her hips sway with every step. Then, she formed a genuine smile.

To think that Emma was genuinely scared to tell Regina about a kink that has ignited a newfound fire in their bedroom is almost laughable now. She should have known that Regina would be open to anything that turned her on just as she would be for Regina. It’s how healthy couples worked.

Emma chuckled to herself as Regina came back with the restraints she promised. Little did she know, Emma disobeyed her on purpose just to get a taste of that punishment.

#squealing santa #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #once upon a time #ouat #swan queen #lee!emmaswan #ler!reginamills #emma swan #regina mills #ouat tickle fic #tickle fic #tickling

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theyoutubedork · 2 years

Text

steve harrrington x fem!photographer!reader x eddie munson

18+ — This is a series meant for mature audiences only, so minors do not interact

Word Count : 4.1k+

summary: The story of an artist being in love with their muse is a story as old as time itself, but what happens when the artist has two muses?

chapter one:

click!

“I don’t get it,” Steve announces, breaking the comfortable silence. He completes the turn, and the blinker shifts back into place. One hand on the steering wheel, Steve pushes his hair back, literally scratching his head in thought. You had been staring out the window of his BMW, backpack comfortably sitting in your lap. You fiddle with the pins you had collected absentmindedly. You loll your head to the side, looking in his direction, curious smile on your face.

“Don’t get what?” You ask gently.

“Why do you force me to drive you to Fotomat to have you buy film, but you never let them, uhhh, what’s the word—“ Steve snaps his fingers, his cue for you to fill in the blanks.

“Develop?” You laugh, giggling at his antics. His eyes light up, fingers snapping into a point directed towards you.

“Yes! Thank you. Why don’t you let Fotomat develop them? I don’t mind driving you back there the next day.” He asks, and you have to admit, it’s surprisingly a good question. Most of Steve’s questions he answers himself, or has you looking at him with a raised eyebrow until he realizes. But, he has a point. He’s the one that takes time out of his day to drive you to the Fotomat on the outskirts of town, just so that you can buy a new month’s worth of film. Steve says he doesn’t mind the drive, but he’s never told you the fact that the adorable look on your face whenever you see the tiny yellow shack is one of the many reasons why he’s willing to make the trip for you. You sigh, craning you elbow on the armrest, chin resting in your palm,

“Because, Steve. That just ruins all the fun,”

“How? I thought the fun was taking the pictures…”

“Well yeah, a part of the fun is photographing, but my favorite part is developing them myself. Plus, I don’t trust Fotomat to do it.” You admit plainly, as if you were stating an obvious fact. However Steve blinks, not exactly understanding.

“How do you even develop a photo?” You laugh at the clueless look on his face, and you turn away before you notice the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“It’s not that hard. If my dad can teach me how to use a dark room when I was eight, it shouldn’t be too hard to teach you.” You tease him, and Steve’s furrowed brow only makes you laugh a bit harder. He takes a turn into the Hawkins High School parking lot, thankfully there were a sparse amount of cars remaining. Classes had already ended that day.

“I would take that as an insult, but I have no idea what a ‘dark room’ is.” He admits. You scratch your chin, feigning deep thought.

“On second thought, teaching you would be an absolute nightmare,” You chide, and Steve letting his jaw hang open makes you burst out into full laughter.

“Hey!” He protests, putting the car into park. You quickly grab your things and open the door.

“You have to at least show me some of your photos at some point. I see you taking photos of me all the time and I never see them.” He pouts for what feels like the millionth time this week. You can feel your cheeks immediately heat up.

The reason why you never showed Steve any of your photos, was that it was very obvious that you had a huge crush on Steve. You’re not even sure if Steve would pick up on the fact that the photos of him compared to almost all the other photos of your friends are very different. The ones of your friends are always cutesy, all filled with happy smiles and good memories attached. The ones of Steve however, are those of an artist capturing their muse. There’s intimacy attached to every single photograph, and anyone can tell that you spent much more time lining up the shot perfectly, just trying to capture an ounce of his beauty.

“Never. They’re not very good anyway,” You rush, and before Steve can argue, you’re already backing away towards the school, “And don’t worry about picking me up, I’m gonna hang out with Eddie, after they’re done with Hellfire,” Steve furrows his brow at the mention of Eddie, and you are about to ask what’s wrong until he finally speaks.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” He pouts, leaning further towards the passenger just to look at you.

“If you want to come with me to smoke in Eddie’s trailer, you are more than welcome.” You offer, and Steve immediately wrinkles his nose.

“Hard pass, I have work tomorrow, and whenever I go in there, I stink for weeks”“That’s what I thought. Thanks for the ride Stevie!” You chirp at him, kissing your palm before waving him goodbye. Steve knows that the gesture was playful, but he would be lying if he didn’t immediately speed away to have you avoid seeing the flush on his cheeks.

The Minolta X-700 that your father gifted you two birthdays ago dangles from your neck, swinging from side to side as you practically skip up to the heavy metal doors to the high school.

You can hear familiar commotion coming from down the empty hallway. You head to the side doors of the auditorium, which was thankfully left open, You peer inside quietly, and you smile when you see Eddie Munson and the rest of the Hellfire Club engrossed in another campaign. You have sat in on a few sessions, begging Eddie to photgraph. You reasoned that energy is incredibly rare, and you get more interesting action shots than any “ball in laundry basket game” that you had to photograph when you still attended the school.

Although that was the truth, you had intentionally left out the part where you took photos of Eddie the most, only to develop and admire them later. It was the same case with Steve’s photos, another muse the artist can’t help but capture. Just like Steve, you also had a massive crush of Eddie. You have no idea when it happened, but all you know is that everytime they ask you to take their picture or just happen to look in your direction, you become a shaking, bumbling mess of nerves.

You can see Eddie’s side profile from the door, perched on his throne, wild grin on his features. The rest of the Hellfire Club do not look as joyful, all of them looking down at their character sheets, sweat lacing their brows. Looks like Eddie is giving them a hard time today, and you immediately pick up your camera. These were the best days to shoot. The emotions were always high, the tension palpable; Eddie can really put on a damn show.

You quickly adjust your camera’s settings, eyes flitting back and forth between trying to looking at the tiny little numbers in the dark, and Eddie making his club members suffer. You only had one shot left of film, so you wanted to make it count. You hid behind the door as much as you could, being as quiet as possible. Thankfully the commotion was enough to cover up the sound of the lever clicking the final frame of your film into place.

You put the viewfinder up to your eye, finally happy with your settings. You zoom in carefully on Eddie, waiting for the perfect shot. You can see the the theatre lights beaming down on him, lighting up his frizzy hair, almost giving him a heavenly glow around his devilishly handsome features. You can feel the gulp you take reach the bottom of your stomach when you see his tongue dart of his mouth momentarily in concentration. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead, and you considered taking the shot until he takes his ring-clad hand and swipes it away. You can feel your mouth run dry, and you nearly forget what you were doing until everyone at the table cries out. Dustin had rolled a natural one, and you cringe along with them.

However, Eddie seems to eat up their misery like it’s his favorite dessert. You see him laugh out maniacally, gripping his hands tight on the armrests of the throne. He looks like a mad king, reveling in his subjects’ strife. He lets his tongue hang from his mouth, and when the others yell in distruaght due to his enjoyment, he rubs the salt in the wound further by shaking his face back and forth, letting his tongue sway from side to side.

click!

You almost don’t even register you took the picture until you hear the entire table hush. You freeze up, not even daring to move your eye from the view finder. You see Eddie mumble something under his breath, and he turns in your direction and makes direct eye contact with you through the viewfinder. When you see him start to smirk, your brain finally catches up with you. You were caught.

You can feel all the color drain from your face and you quickly dash away from the door, not even daring to hang back just to see how Eddie reacted.

You sprint in the direction towards the dark room, and you struggle to to find the right key, your hands shaking uncontrollably. It was like an insane adrenaline rush, but you thankfully are able to unlock the door, not even checking if anyone was in there before slamming it shut behind you. You stay there for a second, back pressed against the cool door, trying to catch your breath. Chest heaving, you listen for any footsteps outside, but thankfully all you can hear is the sound of the red lights of the dark room emitting a low hum.You sigh with relief, finally able to let your shoulders relax.

The dark room was pretty much your safe place. Rarely anyone comes in here, except for the photographers for the school newspaper. They only come in at certain times, and you’re able to have them scurry out quickly. They know that you used to be one of the head editors for the paper, and they all respect you enough to give you your own privacy whenever you come around. You shrug your backpack off your shoulders, checking your watch. You figured you had enough time to develop everything and at least get it hanging before Eddie was finished with Hellfire. You take the walkman out, and put in your specific dark room mixtape. ‘Girls on Film’ by Duran Duran fills your ears, and you smile faintly, ready to work.

After what only felt like minutes, you finish putting the last photo onto the clothesline. You take off the rubber gloves, throwing them into the trashcan, and quickly walk over to the sink to wash your hands. You hum along contently with your walkman, drying your hands before stepping back, looking at your work. They had only just begun to develop, but some have begun to reveal themselves. You observe each one carefully, racking your brain on what the memory attached to them was. Almost every single photo was of either Steve or Eddie, and you sigh contently, happy with the result of each one.

You see two photos in particular that cause a stir in you. One was of Steve’s hand holding a cigarette. The picture makes you laugh, thinking about the dialougue surrounding that memory.

You and Steve had been hanging out in his backyard next to the pool. It was a sticky summer night, the air was thick with humidity, and there was no moon in sight. The crickets and cicadas were singing a haunting melody, and you could still picture the slight fog hanging above the pool, it’s heating always on. You had been talking about everything and nothing, drinking cheap beer to pass the time. When you came back from grabbing another round, you saw Steve taking a quick drag of his cigarette, trying to blow away the smoke quickly, so you wouldn’t notice. But you had.

“Is that what I think it is?” You called out, and Steve was about to put it out when you stopped him.

“Uh uh, you’re going to smoke that whole thing, and I’m going to watch you the entire time, telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t be smoking that.” You demanded, and Steve groaned, leaning back into the pool-side chair.

“God—you sound just like my mom,” He whined, but he listened, taking a slow drag of the cigarette. You pulled out your camera, crouching down next to him, trying to make sure that your shadow from the flood light wasn’t in the way.

“What are you doing?” Steve laughed, holding his hand at his stomach, cradling the cigarette between his digits.

“Photographing your shame,” You said firmly, but you can’t help but giggle when you peek up from the viewfinder. Steve was laying languidly against the chair, bringing his free hand up to his forehead, posing.

“At least get my good side,” He grumbled, knowing full well you were just taking a pitcure of his hand. You both share a laugh, and you put your eye back on the viewfinder.

click!

The other picture was of Eddie’s hands playing his guitar. It was dark and grainy, but you were able to make out the detail of each guitar string and its ribbed texture, some bending slightly under Eddie’s calloused fingers. You stared at his rings, the three gaudy metal ones in particular. You couldnt pick which one was your favoritie. Was it the cross with four skulls surrounding it? Or the pig’s head on his middle finger? Or maybe just the simple skull ring? Each of them are beautifully crafted. You can’t stop your mind from imaging him using his hands to do filthy things to you—

You see light enter the room suddenly, and you immediately screech, pulling the headphones of your walkman to your neck.

“What are you doing?!” You yelled. The door quickly slammed shut and you sighed with relief, your photos are unharmed. You were about to resume your admiring when you heard Eddie’s voice come from the other side of the door. He calls your name,

“Hey, Hellfire finished early!” You quickly scramble to the door cracking it open the tiniest bit. You see Eddie with a worried look, almost like he walked in on you doing something inappropriate—focus!

“Hey Eds. I’m developing stuff in here, can’t swing open the door like that.” You explain, almost breathless.

“Oh! Right sorry. You’re always finished before I come over, but stupid me forgot that we finsihed early.”

“You’re fine! I’m almost finished up, you came come in!” You ramble, leaving the door open as you walk back into the room. Eddie follows, cracking the door open enough to shimmy his lean frame through. He looked around, letting his eyes adjust.

“God—I see why they call it the dark room.” He grumbles, staying still until he could actually see properly.

“Yeah welcome, to my little cave. Make yourself at home, just..don’t touch anything please.” You call from the other side of the room, turning all of the photos hanging the other way, facing it towards the wall for privacy. You didn’t notice Eddie until his wrist stopped you from turning the last photo, the photo you had just taken of him not too long ago.

“What is this?” He coos playfully. You scramble to hide it,

“Nothing!” You take the clothespin off, but Eddie snatches it from you, stepping behind a table so you can’t take it from him. He doesn’t say a word, his mouth in a firm line. Thinking he was mad, you feel tears well up in your vision.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, I was passing by and I just didn’t think and I-“ Eddie shushes you, a smile resting on his face.

“No! Don’t apologize sweetheart. I’m just speechless.” He grins, placing it gently back onto the clothesline. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, bringing you into his side, making you both face the photo.

“I can recognize that click from anywhere, so I couldn’t help myself from finsihing Hellfire early to come see this.” He admits and you look at him slightly confused.

“I’ve always wanted to see your photos. Why don’t you ever show them?” He asks genuinely. You avoid his gaze, looking at the photo. Eddie looks both angelic and devilish, the dichotomy was fascinating to look at. The theatre lights hit him perfectly like he’s performing for a whole crowd. And his friends are in the background, all looking at him like he’s some cruel bringer of destruction, but with a hint of delight behind their eyes.

“I didn’t think you would like them,” You mumbled under your breath.

“Honey, if they are anything like this, I could stare at them all day. Maybe then I wouldn’t be staring at you as much,” He teases, craning his neck towards you. You giggle, pulling away from him with a playful slap to the shoulder. If the lights weren’t red, Eddie would definitely be able to tell how flustered he made you. You turn away from him going through your backpack. You nearly empty the whole bag just to find the new film down at the bottom. You hurriedly put your belongings back inside, picking up your camera and the new roll of film off of the table. You silently put in the new canister, and Eddie watches on with a look something you can only describe as curious. You reload the film like its second nature, but your hands have a slight shake to them due to Eddie’s gaze. You finish rolling the film into place and you snap the back of the camera shut.

click!

Eddie finally blinks, as if breaking out of a spell. He looks at you with a small smile.

“I’ve seen you do that a million times, and I still don’t know what you’re doing,” He chuckles.

“Oh! I’m just putting in a new roll of film. Steve brought me to buy some more earlier,” You explain, always happy to explain anything and everything to do with your camera. The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, and you just happen to notice.

“You were with Steve?” He asks, talking like he has a slight sour taste in his mouth. This was new.

“Uh yeah? Is there something wrong with that? How do you think I got here?” You laugh exasperated, surprised at his reaction. Eddie pauses, thinking for a moment before finally responding,

“Do you uh—do you take pictures of him too?” He asks shyly, and your eyes widen in surprise. Since when did Eddie care about that?

“Uh yeah I do?”

“Does he look better than me in them?” He looks down at the floor, fiddling with his rings.

“Eddie, that’s not a fair question. I photograph you two very differently, it’s like comparing apples to oranges,” You defend. He steps closer to you almost chest to chest. You can feel his breath hit your cheeks, and like a flame, your cheeks feel like they are on fire. Does he know something? He takes a moment, scanning you face for something, but you don’t know what.

“But which do you like better? Apples or oranges?” He prods. Your heart races and you can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. Was Eddie jealous?

“I like them both…equally,” You say quietly, praying Eddie doesn’t catch on. It’s not like you were lying. You liked both Steve and Eddie a lot, but you liked them individually for completely different reasons. Eddie lets out a huff of disbelief, chewing on the inside of his cheek, still staring into your eyes, as if trying to tell if you were lying or not. His eyes drift to the side, as if looking for something but the moment quickly passes. He finally steps back, letting a smile come back on his face, acting like the moment never happened.

“Let’s go get high, yeah?” He chirps and you nod with a laugh. He follows you out the room, but doesn’t leave before swiping the worn leather album you forgot to put back in your bag, quickly putting it in his backpack.

You hop out of the van with Eddie the next morning, and in the other corner of the parking lot, you see Steve and Robin pull up as well. You run over to Robin quickly giving her a hug, immediately chatting away. Last night with Eddie was surprisingly awkward, you still had good time hanging out with him, but its like there was something on Eddie’s mind that made him feel slightly distant. You were happy to see Robin’s face. It’s not like you want to avoid Eddie, but you think that whatever Eddie is worried about, he’ll come to you if he needs to. You don’t notice Steve being approached by Eddie. Both of them exchange slightly tense looks, as if sizing the other up. You were about to ask Eddie to walk inside with you, but he tells you not to wait for him. You give him a confused look but decide to ignore it shrugging your shoulders. You and Robin walk into the school together, as Steve and Eddie have a hushed conversation.

“What’s the matter?” Steve finally asks, making sure you weren’t in earshot.

“I think Y/N has a crush on both of us.” He admits, and if Steve was drinking something, he would surely spit it out at those words.

“What? How do you know?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“Y’know how she never shares her pictures?” Eddie prompts and Steve gives a confused nod,

“Yesterday during Hellfire I caught her taking a photo of me, which isn’t out of the ordinary, with her whole “I like taking photos of people when they aren’t aware, makes the pictures better” bullshit. But guess what she left on the table in the dark room,” Eddie pulls a thick photo album from his backpack and hands it to Steve. It’s a worn leather album, with bits of plastic cellophane poking from the sides. Steve carefully opens the album and is shocked to find the photos of him that you had never shown him. He also sees pictures of Eddie. His mouth can’t help but hang open, shocked to find little notes and doodles drawn onto the cellophane covers. There were little notes next to some of the photos, some random comments and others just describing what’s happening in the picture. The first photo that really caught his attention was a photo of him holding a plate of food, and he recognizes it.

It was on a day when you and Steve were hanging out, nothing too out of the ordinary for you two. You had been outside for a while, smoking weed, and Steve decided to surprise you by making you dinner. He opened the sliding door carefully, balancing both of your plates in one hand. He was dressed in a turtleneck with a dark denim jacket, he had one of his mother’s aprons tied around his waist. When you turned to look at him, blunt between your finger tips, you immediately started to giggle,

“Playing housewife Harrington?” You teased. Steve could’ve blamed the blush on his face from the cold, but the way he shyly looked down at the plates in his hands made it obvious.

“I thought I’d try making a recipe from the cookbook you got me.” He mumbled shyly. You put out the blunt, leaving it in the ashtray next to the pool-side chair. You sauntered up to him, picking up the camera around your neck.

“You know I gave you that cookbook as a joke right? You’re always such a mom,” You laughed absentmindedly adjusting your camera settings. Steve just stood there, waiting for you to come to him. He had learned at that point that whenever you start fiddling with your camera, it usually means that he shouldn’t move and wait for you to take a picture. Steve loved getting his picture taken, especially if it was you taking it. He decided to proudly show off his dish to the camera.

“I present to you…uh..dinner!” He rambled, forgetting the name of the recipe. You laughed, bringing the camera up to your face. Steve’s chest fluttered at the sound of your laugh, and he laughed along with you.

click!

Steve smiles absentmindedly at the memory but when he sees the note written next to the photo, his brain just almost stops functioning.

“Kiss the cook ♥︎”

“Wha-“ He gawks, and Eddie nods along with him. He flips to the next page and points to a rare photo of them together, one where Eddie was smiling at Steve, who looked far from amused. Next to the photo was the caption,

“Two muses is better than one”

Boys On Film! - to be continued

I hope you enjoyed! I’m really excited about this one so please let me know what you think!

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie Munson x reader #eddie Munson x fem!reader #joe keery #joseph quinn #steven harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steddie x reader #steddie

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