#not sure if i like the light/grey hairs or not but also i do but also idk

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 2

summary - an undercover mission causes realisations that otherwise would be squashed in denial

genre - fem!shy!reader x spencer, forced/wanted proximity, fake relationship -> real relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, mentions of trafficking and manipulation, realisations of love

w/c - 1.9k

a/n - second part!!! sorry for the cliffhanger that’s my favourite thing to do NOBODY COME AT ME. maybe third part/epilogue?? who knows. love y’all

The instrumental music that poured from the live band on the elevated stage came to a close, you and Spencer hovering on the opposite side of the expansive floors, discreetly keeping an eye on two large kitchen doors. The room erupted in applause, which you joined into, for the band, the man you assumed to be the main musician stood and bent at the hips with a sly smile - he knew he was good. The room quieted down to a small chatter from the abundance of people that filled the room. Women with large hats, velvet gloves, and bright lips cornered tall men in grey suits (or the other way around) and laughed like they’d known each other for many years. Men with peppering beards whispered to each other before letting out howls and pointing towards women who were not their wives. The wives stood silent. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance, “He’s been in there for around 10 minutes now. I’m gonna call it in, in case they’ve already got the tracker on him.” You nodded with a tight lipped smile, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that dancing with Spencer had put you through. He glanced at you once more before holding down a button on his cuff and speaking out loud. You nodded along, in case anyone was watching - and also as a kind of self-soothing motion. 

You didn’t drink - well, not often. So when a different waiter came up to you both every 10 minutes asking if you’d like a variety of alcohol, you had to kindly decline each time. And each time you became more irritated. People laughed loudly, people danced in quick blurs, people came up to you both and stared at your dress for a little too long. Thankfully, Spencer took your hand (you’re still in love after all) and nodded with a smile that almost made you forget you were on a mission. 

The two of you escaped onto a balcony with a cold breeze accompanying the faster music that both of you wanted to avoid. Your night was already over, just as it started. One dance. You scolded yourself for wanting more, a longer night, for Webley to continue manipulating people. But you’ve done your job, you’ve completed your mission, and now you have to go home and act like all of it never happened.

“Great job, the officers have been notified and we’ve got a tracker on him now. You two can leave whenever-“

“I think we’ll stay for a bit.” Spencer spoke up, and it shocked you. It must’ve shocked Morgan too as the line went dead quiet. “Right, Y/n?” He gulped and eyed you with pleads. His tie was slightly askew, the wind flapping his jacket lightly, his eyes reflecting the stars that now hung high in the sky. 

“Y-yeah. This party’s actually…” You looked over the over-crowded floor, to your red and sore feet, to the bad alcohol standing on the waiter's trays. But then you looked over to Spencer. His eyes, his hair, his small smile, his red tie. “The party’s actually not that bad.” You say with a smile.

“Okay… don’t stay for too long. We don’t want everyone to be hung over for a flight home tomorrow.”

The balcony was made of white concrete pillars and marble floors, sconces of warm lights and vines of ivy that wrapped around the pillars and balcony like waves of seaweed. It was beautiful, just like the rest of the establishment, it was unfortunate its main use was to take advantage of innocent people. But you weren’t out there to think about that - at least that’s what you assumed. Spencer wouldn’t want to stay to talk about trafficking or crimes surely. 

In that moment, even after watching his small smile of excitement that you agreed to stay with him, all you wanted to do was kick off your shoes and take a goddamn breath. 

You walked over to the parapet of the balcony and was glad to see the top was a flat slab of concrete, just wide enough for you to pull yourself up and sit down. 

You sighed in relief, taking off your heels and letting them fall onto the shiny marble. 

Spencer followed your movements, standing next to you and looking out onto the view. City lights and stars blended in with each other from this angle. 

“Are you okay?” He asked gently. You smile, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me tonight. Do I look troubled?” He stood for a moment before turning his head towards you, his hair sweeping across his eyebrows in the breeze. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Was it really that obvious?” “To me, yes… I think that if I didn’t pretend to enjoy tonight people would’ve been suspicious of us.” You frown slightly, “You didn’t enjoy the night?” “I didn’t enjoy the reason, nor the location. I enjoyed the people though.” He sends you a smile that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden. You hope he doesn’t see it in the dim lighting. 

Inside, the dance finishes and people clap, and you do too. Spencer glances at your hands and smirks slightly. “You don’t think they’re suspicious now? We danced once, and now we’re out here watching them like weirdos.” 

Spencer turned to lean on the balcony and look into the ballroom, shrugging. “We’re two young people in love,” he turned to look at you, eyes warm and deep, “alone time is what we need.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and stared at Spencer. His suit, his matching (skewed) tie, his hair and his eyes. He did the same to you, before gulping and looking down at the floor. He bent and picked up your shoes, turning them in his hands and observing. “These are too small for you.” You laugh at the obvious fact, “They’re JJ’s. She’s got the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen.” “You’re only one size above her.” “She wears high heels much more often than I do.” “You swap between sneakers and converse. You’ve only bought new shoes two times since I’ve known you. This is the second time I’ve seen you wear heels, and even then they were practically ballet shoes.” He smiled to himself like it was an inside joke. “Oh…” You looked down at your feet and realised he was exactly right, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your black converse right now.” “Morgan didn’t let me. He said he was pressured to make me look good by all the girls.” He lifted a finger and turned fully towards you, “Did you know that sleeve buttons on suits were created to help doctors who worked in the war keep their sleeves up? Now, they’re a sign of intelligence and wealth. Also, a few weeks ago, you called me a grabologist because of my collection of ties, but did you know that the largest collection of suit ties is owned by a New Zealander woman called Irene Sparks. Now, I think I’d like to oppose that not with my own collection, but with Morgans.”

You smile at the memories of the girls dressing you up, fueling the sisterhood that the childhood version of you missed out on. You thought about Morgan, Hotch and maybe Rossi, and how they were probably dressing him up as well. It was truly a found family, something that you felt you belonged to. They knew your habits, they knew when you were lying, they knew a good portion of your past. And you knew all the same for the rest of them. But Spencer? 

Mentally, without realising, you had been creating essays for him since the day you met him. You made journal entries for everyone else, but for Spencer it was books on books of mental notes and facts and aspects of him and his life that you kept in the back of your mind, ready at any point to bring out and use. Why he wears mismatched socks, why he likes purple, why he can’t handle too many people talking at once, why he feels uncomfortable at hospitals, why he hasn’t contacted his father in years. And he knew no doubt even more about you. He had a talent for knowing your emotions and feelings like no one else could, and it made your heart palpitate every time he did it.

“I mean, you’ve seen my collection of ties but jeez, you’d think a guy who mainly wears t-shirts would keep his collection small. You’d like one of his, it's a green that matches that bedside table you painted once. Like those socks you got me last Christmas. But anyways, he somehow had a perfect red to match your… dress. Which by the way, I noticed a lot of people looking at you - and I don’t blame them. I think you look, um, I think you look incredible.” His rambling quietened down for a moment as he tried to avoid eye-contact with you, before he cleared his throat and continued on with his rambling (which mixed with compliments every second sentence). 

And suddenly, you realised this was all an excuse. You were in denial, so badly, that you thought of him as a subject of your devotion without stepping back and seeing the real picture. 

“Spencer…” You cut him off and he looked up with big eyes, surprised you spoke up. You were the only person that let him ramble, it may have been the only time you stopped him. “Wh- You wanna go home?” He saw your eyes, you looked in pain, in shock, in… “No, Spencer, I… Um.” You pressed your lips together and looked down - were you really going to say this? Were you really going to admit you loved the man in front of you without any evidence that he felt the same way? He was your coworker, your best friend. Everything could be ruined in just a few words. Suddenly, you wanted to take your train of thoughts back, to let him continue on with his rambling - it always calmed you down anyways.

Suddenly, his palm was held out in front of you with a small mint in the middle. You looked up at him and his worried but genuine smile. “Here,” he said softly. You took the mint in your hand and simply stared at it. To be loved, is to be known. “Um, Spencer. I…” His eyes were wanting, curious, they were so goddamn beautiful, “I… I love you.” 

His mouth gaped slightly and his cheeks reddened. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his fingers before chuckling nervously, “I was supposed to say it first.” “What?” “I was supposed to say I love you first.” You hopped down from the concrete railing, dress falling to cover your shins again. “I can take it back if you want.” You responded quickly. “No, no don’t take it back, even if you did I don’t think I could mentally accept that you had taken it back.” You covered your mouth with your hand and looked up at him in shock, “So you-” “I love you, too.” He nodded and took your hands from your mouth, holding them in his, “I have since the third week you’ve worked with the BAU.” 

“Oh, that’s great um…” You looked down at your intertwined hands and furrowed your eyebrows, “What do we do now?” “We could go to the McDonalds that’s a 10 minutes walk away or, I could kiss you.” He stared into your glistening eyes and wanted to pinch himself to see if this was actually happening. “I don’t-”

“You don’t like McDonalds, sorry, my brain is-”

“Just kiss me.” You replied exasperated.

“Okay.” He nodded and placed his hands on your waist.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502

[lunarliyah]

venus placements and color theory ౨ৎ

Aries venus

you guys already know by now. REDS. we love seeing you guys embody any shade of red. From the bloody reds to the burgundy. i also would associate you guys with *burnt* orange. Think of fire, since you guys are so fiery, mostly red and orange. red hair looks amazing on Aries venus. like AMAZING. even, again, burnt orange hair colors as well.

Taurus venus

love browns on you guys. deep dark browns. all i can think of is victoria monet, who is a taurus sun and taurus venus and she really OWNS that color. like you guys really invented brown. quite literally. More wood colors, like dark wood browns. mahogany. *chefs kiss*

Gemini venus

bright yellows. yellow gold jewelry. you all are very open with color and don’t mind wearing variety of colors. but because yellow is such a social color, a more inviting and expressive color, it just works for you guys every time. skin pops with the color yellow with gemini venus people. gemini venus and blonde hair, beautiful. blonde hair fits so well.

Cancer venus

white. because cancers are such a feminine sign, the sign of the mother, such a pure and soft yet bright and shining like the moon, white looks absolutely gorgeous on cancer venus. also i feel like because cancer venus can keep white clean as well. cancer venus people like looking clean and not busy or whimsical.

Leo venus

alright leo venus’s, y’all know how stunning y’all look in orange. but like the original orange color. it’s so lovely on you guys. even men with orange suits. it just works, all the time. silk orange material to represent royalty.

Virgo venus

GREEN. please y’all look so good and rich in green. very grounded color. can even be seen as sensual. deep emerald green makes you guys also look like royalty.

Libra venus

pinks, y’all knew this was coming. light pinks to hot pinks to soft pinks. it doesn’t matter, it makes you guys extremely approachable and inviting. you look very confident in pink.

Scorpio venus

y’all know y’all own the color black. its natural and effortless. its such a power move to wear black to important events for you guys. this color just demands respect. ESPECIALLY when all the black pieces you’re wearing matches. black hair as well.

Sagittarius venus

my sag venus’s yall can never do any wrong in the color purple. dark purle to light lilac purples. you look astonishing in purple clothing. definitely breaking necks with that color choice.

Capricorn venus

grey grey grey. so conservative and stoic like in that color. literally grey looks so dry and boring on others but on you guys it commands attention and it fits so well. silver jewelry as well with dark or light shades of grey. such a effortlessly sexy color choice for y’all.

Aquarius venus

deep royal blues. dark navy blues really demands so much attention when you guys wear it. very attractive and gorgeous on you guys. jewelry with sapphire crystal.

finally

Pisces venus

you guys are very experimental with your appearance. im saying iridescent and light blues. baby blues look so good on you all. very shiny material thats out of this world. eye catching. diamonds looks great on pisces venus’s. multicolor choices. and dreamy light blues. also highlights in your hair looks so good on you all.

*make sure we are giving credit when its due and not stealing other people’s work*

thank you all for reading. to book a reading with me, link in bio

[dumblilb]

I Could Be Enough

Vi x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: They weren’t super close as children, but running around in the same crowd kept them in the know of each other. But years later she might be all Vi’s got left.)

(Warnings: drunk!vi, alcohol, mentions of physical violence ‘ not towards reader’, it’s mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, no mentions of physical attributes, just she/her pronouns, not proof read)

(Requested: yes)

(Words: 1,585)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆ 。

You don’t even know how it got to this point. Sitting at the booth in a gross, sticky, and dark club, watching over a girl you didn’t think you would ever see again. And maybe you were right. Cause she’s not the same girl you remember running around the streets of the under city as a child. The one who always had a bright look in her eyes as she tried so hard to live up to her father’s name, and keep her siblings safe.

But one thing was the same behind those, now dark and sad, slate grey eyes. She was a fighter. In the most literal sense. She couldn’t keep her fist off a jaw if she tried. Night after night she would cover her distinct tattoos and red hair with dark paint. Disguising herself from the public who claimed her strength as a prize. Or maybe even hiding from herself. She wasn’t to sure anymore.

But as the nights carried on the paint got messier and the drinks were getting stronger. And it was hard to watch. But here you were. Watching. So hard you thought your eyes might bleed from all the strobing lights and smoke filling the air. Any other night you might have gone to bed. Ignored the aching feeling you had, and left her to party the rest of the night away. But you couldn’t. Because there she was also watching you. As she sloppily got up with a bottle in her hand and started to walk towards the exit, the urge to follow consumed you. Because you knew she wanted you too. She was practically begging. And so you did. Meeting her by the stairs leading to her small apartment.

“Thank god you came, I thought I was gonna have to drink all alone tonight.” She slurred and you sighed resting your hip against the wall, propping yourself up.

“What would you do without me.” You smiled at her. Trying not to be angry with how fucked up she sounds. Slyly taking the bottle from her and helping her steady by the waist you walk her home.

“You know you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me.” She sighs as you push her door open. You just roll your eyes. She’s been doing this for months. Ever since her first pit match. You were hired as a sort of nurse for the ring. Patching up the people who were getting their shit rocked, and the people doing the punching. Making sure they were healed enough for their next match. And the second you saw her step in that ring you knew it was her. Sure she looked a little different. But her deep upper cut. You could never forget that.

So you causally brought up growing up in the lanes while bandaging her fists that day. How you were pretty shy but always friendly with a boy named Ekko. And he had introduced you to his friends a few times. You could tell she remembered you. But she didn’t say anything. Which was okay. You could tell she didn’t really want to be known at that point. But as time went on she spent more time talking to you after matches. Sitting at the bar just trying to figure out how life got both of you here.

But she also found alcohol along the way. And that concerned you. She would always assure you she was fine. And you chose to believe her. Even though it sometimes seemed she would look right through you. Like she wished something else was there.

But even before the alcohol, the casual flirting was always there. Comments about how attractive you looked and how nice you were to her compared to the other fighters. Claiming you made her feel ‘so special’ and not just because it was coming from a beautiful girl like you.

So as you sit her down on her small bed and pull out some supplies to remove her makeup you can’t help but shake your head at her.

“Your dumb fake flirting isn’t going to get you out of this one vi. You’re a mess.” You sigh pushing her hair back with one hand, removing her makeup with the other.

“It’s not fake and you know it.” She rolls her eyes. “I want you. Please.” She says griping the hand with the cloth in it. Rubbing her thumb across your knuckles softly. The difference between her ruff scared hands and yours now glaringly apparent.

“You’re drunk and exhausted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bit of a concussion after today’s match. I haven’t seen you get hit that hard in a while.” You say ignoring her advances. As you’ve done before.

“I’m fine. You know I’m fine.” She reassures you. But the wavering of her eyes says otherwise.

“I know you think you’re fine-“ you remove your hand from hers and finish wiping her face. “But I see you, Vi. And this isn’t fine.” You say pointing from the bottle resting on her little table to her bruised fists.

She groans tossing her head back. And you gear up ready for a fight about how you don’t know what you’re talking about. But she rubs her eyes a little, her breath slowly becoming unsteady.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” She breathes out looking at you. The small bit of light roaming the room makes the wateriness of her eyes sparkle. “God I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.” She cries.

You don’t even know how to respond. She’s never really cried in front of you before. She’s always been so tuff. But as she sits before you, even her toned and muscular body couldn’t make her look strong.

“I’m so lonely. All I have at this point is you. And you don’t even want me.” She continues and your face softens. Kneeling down in front of her you softly stroke her hair, pulling her in for a hug. She cautiously wraps her arms around you. Like just her touch might scare you away.

“You have me. You do. I think you have for a while now. I just didn’t think you were serious.” You reassure her. Her head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you can hear her breathing steady slightly.

“I’m always serious about you.” She says softly, it being a bit muffled by her position. She pulls away from the hug, resting her forehead to yours. “Can you stay please. I don’t want to be alone.” She asks quietly. Her warm breath hitting your lips.

“I’ll stay.” You grin and she moves to get up and grab a blanket. You help get her ready to lay down, removing her thick boots and setting aside the dirty cloth.

She props the blanket in your lap and she lays down. At first you just smile at how dainty she looks compared to how you usually see her. But her strong arm pulling you down next to her snaps you out of it pretty quickly.

Pulling the blanket over you both, you run your fingers through her hair. Analyzing her face one feature at a time. Her eyes seem a little more blue in this lighting. And you can finally see the small freckles adorning her skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me.” She asks with a soft laugh. “Cause it’s working.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas. That’s not happening. At least not tonight.” You say and you could have sworn her cheeks got a little pink.

“Well then you’ve got to stop staring at me like that… At least not tonight.” She jokes rolling over. Making you smile.

With her back to you, you place an arm around her waist holding her firm. You could feel her body stiffen and you try to remove your arm but she stops you. “No wait. This is good.” She whispers. “This is good.” And she holds your arm tight to her. Rubbing circles across it with her fingers. Her whole body relaxes against yours and you smile against her neck.

“You know I’m not that same girl anymore.” She sighs a little out of no where. But you get it, she’s trying to give you an out. A chance to run. You hum in response. “I’m different I think. I’m not as strong as I used to be.” She continues and you know she’s not talking about muscle, or brawn. She used to be a leader. Someone people looked up to. And now… most people didn’t even know her real name.

“That might be true. But that’s okay.” You say pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re holding on to a girl who didn’t know what life was yet. And you’re grown up. It’s normal to not be the same. Or feel the same.” You continue and she turns to face you. Caressing your cheek softly.

“I think maybe I can be okay. With you.” She muses. Placing a light kiss to your lips. Making you smile.

“Good cause I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t know if tomorrow she would go back to drinking. Or if she would get her ass kicked in the pit. But tonight she was safe. And she was with you. And as she fell asleep to your heart beating against her, you couldn’t help but hope it could stay this way. Cause for you. This was enough.

[levisolace]

[4] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 4: Earl Grey

WC: 7,120 Chapter Warnings: angst again ^^ (they need to communicate), also unedited Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: At least it didn't take a year this time?

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across your small apartment. You sat on the couch, Earl nestled beside you, his sleek black fur shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the window. A bowl of Earl's favorite tuna-flavored kibble rested between them, and you carefully scooped a handful into his waiting dish.

"Here you go, Earl," you murmured, voice soft and soothing. Earl's green eyes gleamed with anticipation as he watched the kibble tumble into the bowl. With a gentle nudge of his head, he began to nibble contentedly.

You smiled, your fingers absently stroking Earl's fur as she watched him eat. It was moments like these that you cherished — quiet mornings filled with the simple pleasure of caring for your companion.

The kitchen clock ticked steadily on the wall, reminding you of the peaceful passage of time. It was Sunday, a day she reserved for leisure and relaxation. Outside, the neighborhood was bathed in the golden light of morning, with the distant sound of cars honking and people shouting. Despite the chaos that the neighborhood offered, it should be a peaceful day… if only you aren’t aware of a certain raven-haired man on the way to your apartment. 

"You're going to have a good day today, aren't you, Earl?" you murmured, your voice tinged with affection. Earl looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, as if he understood every word. “That man I used to tell you about, he’s coming.” 

After finishing his breakfast, Earl stretched lazily, arching his back and then padding over to you. He rubbed against your leg, purring loudly, before settling down at your feet. You chuckled softly, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. "You're such a charmer," you whispered.

Together, they basked in the tranquil morning, you sipping you coffee as Earl curled up beside you. The sunlight danced across the room, casting playful shadows on the walls. 

When the clock struck nine, you were agitatedly waiting for Levi to arrive. He hasn’t texted or called to follow up or confirm he was even coming, making you doubt if he was even aware of it. You’ve pondered just asking Hange for the address, but when you texted her, she assured you that Levi was coming. 

You were aware that the appointment isn’t until the end hour but you were biting your nails, your nerves acting up all of a sudden. Should you dress up? Was it alright that you were just wearing jeans and a tight fitting top? For some reason, you feel like you should dress up. Hell, you even put on more makeup than your usual corporate look.

“Earl, do you think he’s coming?” 

The cat purred, jumping to your side on the couch. You run your thumb on his head, petting him softly. Just then, your phone pinged with a notification. A two-word text from an unknown number.

Come down. 

It’s no mistake that it’s Levi. You could almost hear his commanding and aloof tone through the pixels. Rushing, you take one last look in the mirror, you pat your hair and smile at yourself. But just like being dumped with cold water, your smile drops as you realize your action and your hand flies up to slap your cheek lightly. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This is not a date or even a friendly get together.

You make sure everything in your apartment is in check before grabbing your coat. You bid your pet farewell and hurried down and out of your apartment complex. 

Like it was on cue, the moment you stepped on the pavement, you heard the low but powerful hum of an engine approaching. A sleek black Audi glides into view. The car stops smoothly in front of you and you look around, a few people outside staring at the car with an odd expression on their face. 

You don’t move. Instead, you take a step back. You don’t even know if this is Levi. The windows are tinted and you don’t know his plate number or car model. 

Before you can pull up your phone to ask Levi, the car window rolls down, revealing the man himself. 

“Get in,” he says curtly, his expression composed as ever. 

You open the door and slide into the passenger seat, immediately noticing the immaculate interior. The leather seats are impeccably clean, and the subtle scent of expensive cologne fills the air. You wouldn’t expect less from Levi. He glances at you briefly before shifting the car into gear. 

Although you want to look at him, you avoid doing that and avert your gaze beyond the car itself and to your surroundings. The people in your neighborhood still watched the vehicle even as Levi drove away. They don’t seem to be in awe of the car. Somehow, they looked wary… maybe even afraid? You found this strange but brush it away. Maybe it’s just weird seeing a different social class driving along The Underground. Maybe you were just reading into it too much. 

Levi is silent the whole ride. He navigates the streets with precision, every turn and lane change executed flawlessly. The car’s performance seems like a natural extension of Levi’s own skills and discipline.

As you reach your destination, Levi parks the car with the same precision he’s shown throughout the drive. He looks at you, his eyes sharp yet calm. You stare back. He doesn’t look like he’s gonna say anything so you open your mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” he beats you to it. “If you’re going to say something about what happened in the elevator. Just don’t.”

You were taken aback and you remember his face when you left. Guilt consumes you once again but you don’t let it show on your face. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you mumbled. “I was gonna say that you could leave me here. I know Hange probably forced you to come. I think I can find my way back from here.”

“Tch,” he responds with his usual expression. 

He gets out of the car without a word for you to follow and yet you do so anyway. You gave him a choice to leave but he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. You wondered if it’s also his day off. What could his job be? Maybe an office job or managing the restaurant? Could Kuchel’s still be up and running? You hope it is. Although you want to visit Levi’s mother, you’re not sure if she would welcome you like before. 

The wedding boutique’s interior is just as sophisticated as its exterior. Soft lighting illuminates racks of exquisite dresses, each piece more stunning than the last. The air is filled with the subtle scent of fresh flowers, adding to the refined atmosphere.

A sales assistant approaches, eyes shifting from you to Levi. “Good morning, ma’am and sir. Looking for a wedding dress?” 

You and Levi take an awkward glance at each other before he clears his throat. “No. We’re here for the ten o’clock appointment. The refitting?” He states simply. 

The sales assistant nods enthusiastically, apologizing for her mistake. “Ah, yes! For Ms. Zoe’s bridesmaid. Please wait here.” 

She ushered you both to a waiting area. You sit side by side on the couch. There are racks of wedding dresses around you and on mannequins. You take your time to admire them while Levi scrolls through his phone. 

You’re happy for Hange that she’s settling down. She looked really happy with Moblit and he seemed utterly in love with her as well. Although her personality hasn’t changed, there seemed to be some maturity around her that you weren’t familiar with. 

At the moment, marriage isn’t something that you can see yourself in. But god, the dresses are so pretty. You don’t really get to wear gowns like that. 

For a moment, you think about it, maybe as a result of you haven’t eaten breakfast. If a ring adorned your finger, what wedding dress would you like best? You think you’d like something with a petticoat, something that would make you feel like a princess. Your eyes caught one that you adored. It’s on a mannequin. You could picture yourself wearing it. In all honesty, this is the first time you’ve thought about weddings in years. And you do see the irony of doing that with your ex-boyfriend sitting beside you. 

Your trail of thoughts were cut off when the sales assistant came out from the room she went into. “Miss, we’re ready for you here. Your boyfriend can accompany you inside.” She points to the room with a gesture of her palms laid outwards. 

“Not her boyfriend,” Levi nonchalantly reacts and the disgust in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give the girl an awkward smile. He wasn’t wrong and yet you can’t help but feel offended at the way he reacted so quickly as if he found the thought repulsive. 

“He’ll stay here. Or leave… if he wants to.” You give him a glance to which he scoffed at. The sales assistant awkwardly laughs, seemingly noticing the tension in the room. 

“Ah, I’m sorry again for assuming. Please forgive me. Do you need any refreshments as you wait here, sir?” She asks Levi while you stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

“No, thank you.” Levi stands up from his seat and you could see the sales assistant’s eyes wilter for a moment at his rejection. God, he’s rude. 

“I’ll be coming inside as well,” he continues, shocking you. 

“What? You don’t have to do that,” you whisper to his side. 

He doesn’t take no for an answer, heading inside first and brushing past you. You look up at the ceiling, praying nothings above to give you enough patience for this time.

You stood in front of the mirror, tugging the waist of the dress. It was a tube top, which you don’t often wear. Sleeves accompany your arms most of the time and right now? They feel naked. Despite that, the dress is nice. The fabric hugged you in all the right places. But your nerves were more due to the fact that Levi was sitting just a few feet away, casually scrolling through his phone. You hate to admit that until now, he still makes you nervous.

Levi hadn’t even looked up when she stepped out of the dressing room. He was sitting straight up in the plush chair, legs crossed, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. His dark hair flopped slightly over his forehead, and his posture was so relaxed it bordered on dismissive. And you were right, he is scrolling and typing on his phone like his mind is entirely somewhere else.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Magnifique!” The tailor clasped his hands, catching Levi’s attention. 

He looks up and drags his eyes up and down your form. It took all of you not to show your nervousness at his reaction. And yet, like a child waiting, you look at the people in the room with a smile.

“How’s it look?” you asked, your voice trying to sound casual, but the weight of the situation made it come out more forced than you intended.

Levi doesn’t take his eyes off you as you asked, just for a moment, then back at his phone. “Looks fine,” he muttered, tapping at the screen.

Your smile faltered. You turned back to the mirror, adjusting the tube in the hope of distracting yourself from the pang of disappointment in her chest. You weren’t sure why you expected him to be more... invested. He was here as a favor to Hange, your mutual friend. Not to you. 

“Is something wrong, madame?” The tailor asked.

Your eyes widened as your eyes shifted to the reflection of the tailor in the mirror and you shook your head. “Oh! Nothing, no. It’s just… I’m not really used to wearing tube top dresses. Don’t my arms look kind of awkward?” 

“Nonsense, madame. You look beautiful!” The joyful tailor said flamboyantly. 

You purse your lips, looking at your reflection again. This was all so sudden and you kinda wished you had more time to prepare. It’s been a while since you dressed up like this. It’s like seeing yourself in a whole different light. After focusing on your career and all, you guess you’ve neglected your appearance. 

The tailor noticed your silence. “But if you’re uncomfortable, we can add straps or alter it to your liking. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, please don’t. You don’t have to do that,” you tell her. “It’s perfect.” The thought of imposing more will only burden you and make you more uncomfortable. Anyway, you’ll only be wearing it for a day. 

The tailor nods. “So this measurement is good, then.”

“Yes, I think I’m done here,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now.

As you stepped back into the dressing room to change, you could hear him tapping away on his phone again, already checked out of the moment. You took a deep breath. You sighed quietly, fiddling with your hair as you stared at your reflection. You weren’t sure why you felt disappointed at his reaction. It was like he found it repulsive to even look at you. It made you wonder… does he still find you attractive? You hated that it bothered you this much. 

It took you a while to change, carefully taking the dress off without misplacing the pins and all. When you emerged from the dressing room, Levi was nowhere to be found. It only made you feel worse. But at least your stomach was no longer in knots. It always felt that way when he was in sight. 

You approached the sales assistant who was also in the room, obligated to give her an apology for how Levi reacted. She smiles when you reach her and tells you that the tailor began to work on the dress and had stepped out.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. He’s rude but he’s not always like that,” you tell her but you know it’s half a lie. Levi doesn’t really do well with strangers, especially if he’s in a bad mood. You guessed he hasn’t really at all changed. There’s still that introvert inside him. Or maybe you just trigger it with your presence. 

The sales assistant gives you a reassuring smile, a genuine one that you differentiated from her usual customer service one. “It’s fine, ma’am. I experienced worse…” 

Her last words trail before she paused for a while, stopping herself as if she wanted to say something else. You tilt your head in curiosity. “What is it?”

“Nothing ma’am. It’s just… I thought you were a couple because of how he was looking at you when you weren’t looking,” she replied shyly, a hand scratching the back of her neck.

Your smile drops as you hear what she had to say, that fluttering feeling in your stomach that had gone dormant in years was alive once again. 

“What?” you mutter, feeling your face heat up. 

“I’m sorry. I think I overstepped once again, ma’am.”

“You’re not, don’t worry about it,” you assure her. You point at the door with your thumb. “Is he still outside?”

“He stepped out. But his car is still outside so I don’t think he left, ma’am.” 

The sales assistant redirects you back to the waiting area. As she does, you take your phone out of your bag and pull out your messaging app to text the same number who called you earlier. 

Where did you go?

Had something urgent. My secretary will drive you.

As if on cue, the front door’s bell dings, indicating it had just been open and boy probably in his early twenties walks in. He has a buzz cut and a shining glimmer in his eyes. He wears a polo shirt and slacks. 

“O-Oh, you’re done, miss?” He says as his eyes land on you. Your mouth parts, unsure why this stranger is addressing you. He says your name as a question and you nod in confusion.

“Ah! Pardon me. My name is Connie. I’m Mr. Levi’s personal secretary. He asked me to fetch and drive you. He was needed there.” 

Secretary? Not only does he have an Audi, he has an assistant running errands for him on a Sunday? And how could he just leave without telling you? 

You smiled at Connie. Although you don’t find the stranger suspicious, it’s still a bit much to get in the car with him. It’s more of you thinking you’d be imposing. He could be doing better things. 

“You don’t need to do that, Connie. I can get home by myself.”

Connie’s eyes widened and he brought his hands up frantically waving. “No, no, no. I have specific orders from Sir Levi. I also have breakfast for you ready in the car.” 

That caught you off guard. Breakfast? He got you breakfast? 

“Levi asked you to get me breakfast?” 

“Yes, ma’am. He was very specific with what to get.”

“What?”

“Oh crap,” he mutters to himself as if it wasn’t information that he should’ve disclosed to you. “Can we go to the car now, ma’am?” 

In a trance of thoughts, you nod aimlessly and follow the boy outside. He guides you to the car and even opens the door for you. He sits you on the backseat. Connie enters the car to the driver’s seat. 

“How long have you been working for Levi, Connie?”

Striking up a conversation seemed like a good idea instead of sitting in silence and so you did just that. As you speak, Connie hands you a paper bag that rested from where you sat earlier in the morning, making you mumble a quick thank you as you accepted it. 

“I’ve been working with Mr. Ackerman for years,” he said proudly, grinning.

“Years? He must really like you then,” you said, amused and chuckling.

“I really hope he does, ma’am. It was tough, if you know what I mean?” He gives you a mischievous look through the rearview mirror. “Don’t tell him this but I used to cry in the comfort room in the first month that I worked for him.” 

A three-second silence in the car and he immediately takes back what he said. “Shit. Overshared. Sorry.”

You huffed and let out an amused chuckle that turned into laughter. Connie laughs back, bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his head. He did that twice already, you gathered by now that it’s a mannerism. 

“I can see why he does, you know, why he likes you,” you shared. “He needs people like you,” you added. 

Levi keeps people around his life when he likes them. Erwin keeps him in check. Hange pulls him out of his shell. And you? What was your purpose in his life? What did you have to offer him back when you had him? 

Your eyes drift to the paper bag beside you. Peeking through it, you see a green drink and pastry. Matcha and Blueberry muffin. Your heart swells and you have to close your lids to stop the overwhelming emotions that threaten to come out. The smell is purely nostalgia. 

The quiet hum of fluorescent lights was the only sound that punctuated the silence of the library as you huddled over her textbooks, your brow furrowed in concentration. The dusty scent of old paper and leather bound you in a cocoon of academia, the world beyond the heavy oak doors fading into insignificance.

In the middle of you losing yourself in a particular chapter of your reading, a soft but familiar deep voice broke through the stillness. “You’ve been here all morning?” 

You looked up to see Levi standing there, arms crossed and giving you a concerned look. 

He slipped into the chair across from you, his presence is warm and comforting, a disruption to your heavy mind and the coldness of the place. 

“Yeah, I’m almost finished with this reading,” you whisper to him. 

“Have you eaten, at least?” He asked, pulling out his laptop.

“Yeah,” you replied back, nonchalant and obviously lying. You know he doesn’t like it when you skip breakfast and always argues when you don’t. You were never really big on breakfast, you never felt the need for it. You don't like the feeling of being full in the morning. However, Levi lived a life with a cook for a mother, so having breakfast was a must in his vocabulary. Most of your life was spent hustling. Being fast. Mornings were made up of getting ready, having half a cup of coffee, and making your way to school early in the morning. 

“You’re lying,” he states the obvious with disappointment in his voice.

“It’s almost 10. It’s just two hours before lunch time anyway,” you shrug. 

“That’s bullshit,” he replied, shaking his head.

Erwin and Hange came by as he said it, following Levi like the trio that they are. 

“Can you lovebirds not argue in the library?” Erwin whispered as the two of them sat down. 

Levi slides out of his chair quietly while turning down his laptop screen. 

“Get up,” he demanded straight at you. You look up at him, confused and a bit annoyed. You were almost done with the reading. 

“I’m almost done,” you refused, burying your face back on the paper. 

Levi sighed audibly, the kind of sigh that meant he wasn’t going to drop it anytime soon. You could feel his eyes on you, unwavering and expectant. The weight of his gaze was enough to break your concentration on the reading. It was like a silent battle, one you knew you wouldn’t win, not when it came to Levi and his insistence on taking care of you in his own stubborn way.

“Get up,” he repeated, voice firmer this time. He wasn’t budging, and you knew he’d stand there as long as it took for you to listen.

You glanced up at him, your expression caught between exasperation and defeat. He wasn’t about to let this go, and as much as you wanted to finish your chapter, you could already feel the familiar pull of his unspoken concern. Levi’s brand of care was persistent, never showy, but impossible to ignore.

Hange leaned over the table, grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Better do what he says, or we’re all going to hear about it for the rest of the day.”

“Come on, just humor him,” Erwin added with a slight smirk, though he kept his voice low in the quiet library.

Levi didn’t wait for your reply this time. With a swift motion, he closed your book gently but decisively, tucking it under his arm. His other hand reached out, hovering near you, but not touching—an offering, rather than a demand. He wasn’t going to drag you out, but his patience was running thin.

“Let’s go,” he said, more quietly now, his tone softening just a little. “Five minutes. We’ll grab something, and you can finish your reading after.”

You wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes—steady, unrelenting—told you it was a lost cause. It wasn’t really about the food. It was about him needing to make sure you were okay, even when you didn’t think it mattered. 

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, brushing off the nonexistent dust on your jeans. “Fine,” you muttered, though the fight had gone out of your voice.

Levi gave a small nod of approval, turning toward the door without a word. You followed, casting one last glance at the table and the chapter you had been so close to finishing. Hange gave you a teasing wink as you passed, and Erwin, ever the composed one, simply smiled knowingly.

As the two of you stepped out into the crisp morning air, the library’s warmth replaced by the gentle chill, Levi’s pace slowed just enough for you to fall in step beside him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. The silence between you was comfortable, like slipping into something familiar, something safe. Despite his earlier gruffness, Levi’s presence was calming, grounding. 

After a few minutes of walking, he broke the silence. “There’s a café around the corner. You’ll like it. They’ve got good tea.”

“Not coffee?” you teased lightly, trying to lift the mood.

“Figured tea would go easier on you,” he replied, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips twitched, almost like he was trying to hide a smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back, a small one, but genuine. Levi always had this way of knowing what you needed, even when you didn’t ask. He was stubborn, but his quiet care ran deeper than words could ever express.

As you walked together, the tension from the morning dissolved, leaving behind a warmth that wasn’t just from the sun filtering through the trees. It was the kind of warmth that only Levi brought with him—steady, comforting, and constant, even when you didn’t realize you needed it.

You took a moment to breathe, the cool air outside replaced by the comforting warmth of the café. The stack of readings and the stress from earlier seemed to slip away, replaced by the calm of the moment. When Levi returned, he set a cup of matcha in front of you and a plate with two blueberry muffins.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were just grabbing something quick.”

He slid into the chair across from you, his own cup of black tea in hand. “You need more than just tea. Eat.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his insistence but reached for a muffin anyway. The soft texture and burst of blueberry sweetness were enough to remind you just how hungry you actually were. You took a bite, and Levi watched you, sipping his tea silently, but his expression was lighter now, less tense.

“Better?” he asked, though it was less of a question and more of a check-in, like he needed to hear you confirm it.

“Better,” you admitted, taking another bite.

He nodded once, satisfied, and turned his attention to his tea. The steam rose from his cup, and he closed his eyes briefly as he took a slow sip, savoring the warmth. You watched him for a moment, appreciating how he could find calm in the simplest things—like the taste of tea or the quiet atmosphere of a small café.

“So, you’ve got me here, eating muffins,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’s the plan? Gonna keep babysitting me, or can I finish my reading after this?”

Levi smirked, setting his cup down. “You can finish your reading after this. Just didn’t want you passing out in the middle of it.” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of concern behind his words, subtle but there.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t pass out.”

“Right,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you’ve never done that before?”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly what he was referring to. That one time during finals week… but that was different. You’d been exhausted from back-to-back exams. Still, Levi wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of pushing yourself too hard.

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you conceded, taking a sip of your matcha. “Thanks, by the way. For this.”

Levi gave a small shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “No need to thank me. Just don’t make it a habit.”

You smiled at that, though a part of you was still processing the strange dynamic between you two. Levi was always there when it mattered, even when things were complicated between you. He wasn’t the type to make grand gestures, but he showed up in these small, quiet ways—making sure you ate, pulling you out of your own head, grounding you when you didn’t even realize you needed it.

You nodded, taking another bite of your muffin, content to sit in comfortable silence as you both worked. Occasionally, Levi’s eyes would flicker up from his screen to check on you, a small gesture you pretended not to notice.

As the morning stretched into midday, the café buzzed quietly around you, but in this little corner by the window, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. The warmth of the matcha, the sweetness of the blueberry muffins, and Levi’s steady presence beside you made everything feel lighter, less daunting.

Since then, it became a routine for the two of you. Blueberry muffins and matcha. The perfect way to start your day with your boyfriend, Levi. 

In your apartment, you sat at the table, cradling a warm cup of matcha between your hands, the aroma of the freshly baked blueberry muffins filling the air. It was something familiar, something comforting. You absentmindedly pulled off a piece of the muffin, the tart sweetness of the blueberries mingling with the warmth of the soft pastry, and let it linger on your tongue. It was a flavor that always brought you back to him, to Levi.

For a brief moment, you missed the way it was—if the distance between you two wasn’t so carefully maintained. You wondered what it would feel like to feel his warmth again. But you pushed the thought aside. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough. And for once, you let yourself enjoy it.

The stillness of the apartment, the absence of his voice or the low, comforting rumble of him sipping tea across from you—these were the things that haunted the corners of your mind when you least expected it. 

You sipped the matcha slowly, closing your eyes for a moment, letting its earthy flavor settle in your chest. You could almost hear him scolding you, telling you to eat something more substantial, to stop skipping meals. His voice was still so clear in your head, even though he wouldn’t do that anymore. You smiled faintly at the thought, more out of habit than anything else.

The muffin in front of you sat half-eaten, but you weren’t really hungry. Not in the way Levi always worried about. You picked at it absentmindedly, your mind drifting back to those mornings in the café, where everything felt like it was on pause—like whatever was broken between you two didn’t matter in that quiet space. You’d sit there, stealing glances at each other, filling the air with comfortable silence, pretending for a little while that nothing had changed.

But everything had. 

You took another sip of your drink, eyes drifting toward the window. The city outside was bustling, indifferent to the quiet memories you clung to. Life moved forward, as it always did. It was more of a soft ache, the kind that settled in the background, always there but not overwhelming. You’d made peace with the fact that it had ended, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss the way things had been—how easy it was to just be around him, how he knew you better than most people, even in the smallest ways. 

Earl’s soft purr pulls you out of your thoughts for a moment and you watch as he jumps from the other chair to your lap. You pet his head and chuckle a little.

“Earl Grey, you were named after his eyes, you know?” 

And then after the longest time, you let yourself drop a tear for him. Then came another. And another. 

The day went by pretty quickly. It was late when the knock at your door came, breaking the peaceful stillness of your apartment. You were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through a book you had already read twice. Earl, your cat, was nestled on your lap, purring softly as he kneaded into your blanket. You weren’t expecting anyone, but a small part of you, maybe even hopeful, already knew who it was. 

You stood up, setting the book aside and carefully placing Earl on the couch, his displeased meow following you as you made your way to the door. When you opened it, there was Levi, standing in the dim light of the hallway, hands in his pockets, looking as stoic and nonchalant as ever.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding up your handkerchief—the one you had carelessly left in the passenger seat of his car earlier that day. It was checkered pink with your name at the corner, one of the few your grandmother had embroidered herself for you. 

You stared at the handkerchief for a moment, surprised he’d come all the way back just for that. “You didn’t have to come all this way, Levi,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the soft gratitude in your voice.

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Figured you’d want it back.” 

His eyes flickered past you, into the warm light of your apartment, where Earl was now perched on the back of the couch, eyeing Levi with a curious but lazy gaze.

Levi noticed the cat immediately, his expression softening just a fraction. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he remarked, his voice low as he took a step inside, uninvited but not unwelcome. He quietly removes his shoes and puts them beside your outdoor shoes. Confused but accepting, you close your door and approach the two.

“Yeah, Earl,” you replied, following his gaze to the fluffy black cat now making his way down from the couch, padding silently toward Levi like he was sizing him up. 

Earl stopped a few feet from Levi, sitting down elegantly and staring up at him, his green eyes narrowing as if judging whether or not this stranger was worth his attention. Levi, to your surprise, crouched down slightly, meeting the cat’s gaze without blinking. It was such a Levi thing to do—silent, direct, and somehow commanding without even trying.

“Earl, huh?” Levi muttered. “He’s got a lot of attitude for a cat.”

You chuckled softly, watching as Earl sniffed at Levi’s shoes before giving a satisfied flick of his tail and brushing against Levi’s legs. You didn’t expect Earl to warm up so quickly, but there he was, already purring as Levi reached out to scratch behind his ears.

“Guess he likes you,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “He doesn’t do that with most people.”

Levi glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Smart cat,” he said, standing back up. “Knows who to trust.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment, lingering with a weight neither of you wanted to address. You weren’t sure how to respond, so instead, you bent down and scooped Earl up, holding him close to your chest as his purring grew louder.

Levi handed you the handkerchief, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you took it from him. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice softer now.

“Yeah, no problem.” He shifted on his feet, glancing around the apartment briefly, like he was trying to decide whether or not to stay longer.

“I apologize for leaving abruptly earlier,” he pauses for a while before continuing. “I had something urgent.”

“As you and your secretary told me,” you answer. You weren’t really holding a grudge about that. You don’t know why he came all this way to tell you that. “Thank you for the breakfast, by the way.” 

He gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and unspoken. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

For a brief second, the two of you stood there in the living room, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you both. Earl wiggled in your arms, clearly done with the moment, and you set him back down, watching as he padded off toward his bed near the window.

“I… haven’t.” 

“Do you want me to cook something?” It was a simple offer, but it felt heavy between you. Levi blinked, like the question caught him off guard, though he masked it quickly.

“To pay for the breakfast,” you add quickly with an awkward smile. 

“Yeah,” he said after a pause, his voice steady. “I could stay.”

You felt a strange wave of relief, mixed with nervousness. It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared meals with him before, but this felt different now. 

“Well, I wasn’t planning anything fancy,” you said, moving toward the kitchen, feeling a bit unsure of yourself. “But I could make us something quick. Pasta okay?”

Levi leaned against the counter, watching you as you opened the fridge. “Pasta’s fine,” he replied.

He didn’t respond, but you caught the subtle twitch of his lips. It felt almost normal—like slipping back into an old routine without realizing it.

As you started boiling water and prepping ingredients, Levi moved around the small kitchen, grabbing plates and silverware, his movements as efficient and familiar as ever. Neither of you spoke much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the soft clattering of utensils and the rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables.

His attention is briefly on Earl, who had taken to watching Levi’s every move with mild curiosity. “Your cat’s a stalker.”

You chuckled, tossing some garlic into the pan. “He’s just making sure you’re not a threat.”

“You said he liked me,” Levi muttered again, though you could tell he didn’t mind Earl’s presence at all. In fact, it seemed like Levi was actually enjoying the quiet company of the little observer.

As you cooked, the kitchen filled with the comforting scent of garlic and olive oil, the sizzle of the pan a soothing backdrop. Levi set the table quietly, his movements almost instinctive, like he’d done this a hundred times before. The two of you worked in sync, no need for instructions or small talk, just moving around each other as if nothing had changed.

When the pasta was done, you brought the pot over to the table, serving two generous portions. Levi settled into the chair across from you, picking up his fork and twirling the pasta around it. The first bite was met with a small nod of approval from him.

“Still the same,” he said, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the cooking or the way you fit so naturally into this space together.

You smiled, taking a bite yourself. “I had a good teacher,” you say, thinking about the raven-haired woman who Levi holds so dearly in his heart. You miss her in these kinds of moments, you wondered how she felt about you now. 

“How’s Kuchel?” 

“The same,” he answers shortly. “Everything in this city has changed except for her.”

You wondered what he meant by that. But in the sake of keeping up the small talk, you say the first words that pop up in your mind. 

“You don’t look like you changed at all, either.”

You really didn’t mean it in a bad way. But it seemed to have triggered something in your meal companion. His jaw clenches before chewing faster. Your heart races when you notice it upset him.

“And you haven’t either,” he responds, a bitter malice in his tone.

“I don’t mean it like that,” you try to save the peace that enveloped you two a minute ago. 

He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, afraid you’d say anything bad to upset him enough to leave with his meal unfinished. You don’t want that. In fact, you didn’t want him to leave. But you don’t want to admit that to yourself either. 

The meal continued in a comfortable silence after, broken occasionally by the sound of Earl jumping down from the windowsill to investigate Levi’s shoes or the clinking of silverware against plates. There was something surreal about the moment—sharing a simple meal in your apartment, after everything that had happened, after the years of space between you. 

Levi finished his plate first, as always, but instead of standing up to leave, he leaned back in his chair, watching as you took another bite, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, his voice low but genuine. You nod in response. 

For a moment, the air felt thick with all the things you hadn’t said to each other—the unspoken words, the history that lingered between you, and the quiet understanding that neither of you had been able to let go of entirely.

“Yeah,” you replied, setting your fork down and meeting his eyes.

For a moment, the air felt thick with all the things you hadn’t said to each other—the unspoken words, the history that lingered between you, and the quiet understanding that neither of you had been able to let go of entirely.

Levi broke the silence first, his voice quieter than before. “I should go.”

He shifted on his feet, ready to leave. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” you agree, looking at the wall clock. It’s almost past nine. 

You followed as he walked through your apartment. You watched how he put on his shoes and brushed his clothes straight. You open the door for him, heart racing as you stare at him quietly. For a brief second, the two of you stood there in the doorway, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you both.

Levi took a step back, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment longer. “Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice low but carrying a quiet sincerity that you hadn’t expected.

“I will,” you replied, managing a small smile. “And Levi?”

He paused, looking at you expectantly.

“Thanks again. For today. And for coming by.”

He gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and unspoken. “See you around,” he said, before turning and walking back down the hallway.

You watched him go, the door slowly closing behind him. Earl returned to your side, nudging your leg before jumping back onto the couch. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling a little emptier without Levi in it.

You settled back on the couch, Earl curling up beside you again, his purring filling the silence. You reached for the handkerchief in your pajama short’s pocket. The handkerchief in your hand, a small, simple thing, but somehow it felt heavier now—like it carried more than just the memory of your grandmother. 

In the quiet, you wondered if this was how it would always be between you and Levi—brief moments, small gestures, and unspoken words that never quite filled the space between you.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[cats-inthe-cradle]

So I started getting into art :D

I have no idea who these guys are yet but I love em a lot :'D

[triggerghoul]

Poly!Dewdrop x Poly!Rain x Poly!Reader

A/N: Okay so this is strictly 18+ Minors DNI Please and thank you Since this is Smut.  It is also the first smut piece i will be posting on this account an I hope it is enjoyable.  Again please Minors DNI even though I know this will not stop most of you and if I forgot any warnings I am very sorry.  Also I did proof read this like 7 times but there probably still mistakes because I am very blind.  - Trigg

Warnings: Poly relationship (between Reader and ghouls), Blood, Voyeurism, Double Penetration, Hair pulling, Oral (kind of?), Fingering, Edging. 

You had found yourself in this situation beause of an innocent gesture.  You had accidentally gripped onto Rain’s tail spade when watching a horror movie with the others.  You had gotten scared and it was the first thing avaliable.  But little did you know, the Spade of the Ghouls’ tails were sensitive, like really sensitive.  Once you grabbed it Rain jolted up immediatly and at first you thought you hurt him, until Dew spoke up for him

      “Oh sweetheart you’re gonna regret that later” with the biggest shit eating smirk.  

     You looked back at Rain, confused, when a flash of light from the movie lit up the dark room you noticed that he was flushed a darker grey.

     “Rainy im so sorry.  Did I hurt you?” you whispered only loud enough for him to hear.  He was quiet for a second. 

     “No, love, you didn’t hurt me but umm, you’re definitly going to help me with what you did after this is over”  Rain also spoke at a whisper but you could tell his voice had gotten a bit deeper.  You guys were sat in the back of the room so no one could see what you three were up to, and Rain took advantage of this.  He pulled you up into his lap but made sure you were facing outward so you could still watch the movie.  Dew had scooted over to your spot, next to Rain and gave him a questioning look, and to which was only responded with a nod.  Rain was no longer focusing on the movie but on you, sitting in his lap with his growing cock giving his intentions away.  He started to kiss your neck, and he ground you down into him and then you finally understood what had happened.  Your cheeks flushed as you thought about it, you felt so bad about doing it in a room full of his bandmates.  Your lovers were silently planning something without you knowing even what had happened.  You felt so stupid for not realizing, but all of these thoughts faded away as soon as you felt Rain’s teeth nip at the spot below your ear.  You had to stop yourself from making any noise as to not draw any attention from the others.  Because you already knew that Dew wasn’t going to ever let you forget this but his teasing would worsen if anyone else found out. 

As this was unfolding, the credits started to roll and Rain immediatly flipped you around in his lap and very quietly whispered to pretend like you were asleep, so that he could play off getting out of there as soon as possible.  You obviously complied without question, excited for what was to come.  

And now here you were, striped down to your panties with Rain working dark bruises and the occasional nip into your chest.  Dew had decided to sit back and watch, like the voyeur he is.  He liked getting off to his two lovers like this.   Rain had started to move his kisses and marks down your body until he reached the hem of your panties, to which you raised your hips a bit so that it would be easier to slip them off.  You got a small smile from your lover before he dipped down, spreading your thighs. 

You let out a whine as the cold air hit you cunt, and Rain nipped at your thigh, just hard enough not to draw blood.  He leaned back then kissed the reddened skin before licking a stripe up from your hole to your clit making you involentarily buck your hips up into him.  He snaked one of his arms up to hold you down and he used thie other to stick a finger into your hole while his mouth worked wonders on your clit.  Soon he added another finger and started to curl them to hit the spot that had you seeing stars.  You were trying so hard to buck up into him but his grip on your hips made it nearly imposible.  Your hands had moved from gripping onto the sheets, to gripping his hair, you weren’t trying to pull hard but at least you knew he liked it from the noises he would make from it.  The pressure was starting to build and rain must of noticed from the way your walls were fluttering around his fingers, and just before you toppled over the edge he pulled away.  

You let out a long whine at his actions and looked over at Dew sitting in his chair.  He was intently watching you and stroking himself.  He gave you a smirk and motioned for you to continue with Rain for the time being.  

     “Rainy why did you stop?” you whined as you looked back at Rain giving him a pouty face.  

     “Hmm Dew was right, you do get whiney when denied” Rain snickered back at you.  “ Just want to make it more powerful when we do let you cum” he continued.  Did he just say ‘when we let you’? Oh this was going to be something.  You must of been thinking a little too much because a touch on your thigh made you come back to your scenses, you might of jumped a little bit because Rain spoke up again,

     “Easy love, sorry I startled you, everything okay?”  

     “I-um.. Yeah im perfectly fine just..” you started before getting cut off.

     “Thinking about what he said Sweetheart?” Dew pipped up from his chair.  You looked over at him again only to find your gaze being pulled back to Rain by his fingers which were hooked under your chin.  

     “Focus on me, not him.”  Rain growled now growing impatient with his own actions.  He leaned down to start kissing your neck and then all of the sudden he bit down, putting his fangs into your neck, it hurt, but you loved it judging by the moan you let out.  He pulled back to admire his work, watching the blood drip down only to lean back down and lick it up.  He took his hand back to your warmth and stuck his fingers back into you, pumping them a couple times, enough to get you worked up again then pulled then away.  Again you whined at the loss of contact as he went to sit up so he could get his boxers off.  His cock sprung up to his stomach as he pulled them down and then he kicked them off once he got them down far enough.  This wasn’t the first time by any means that you’d seen him naked but each time he still surprises you with it.  

He brought your attention back once again with a possesive kiss to your lips.  you took one of your hands down to touch him but before you could he grabbed your hands and held them above your head without breaking the kiss.

He pulled away shortly after, “Think you’re ready?” 

     “Yes.  Please Rain, Please.” You were begging and you weren’t even sure what you were begging for.  Was it a release?  Was it for them to wreck you?  Was it too much to ask for both?

     “I think so too, but let’s make sure your ready for this” He said as he gathered some of your slick and rubbed a few circles into your clit.  He pulled his fingers away and brought his finger to his mouth and licked away your juices.  He finally took his painfully hard cock into his hand and lined himself up to your entrance, making sure Dew was getting a show, before he pushed himself in.  You both let out a moan as he bottomed out inside of you, letting your hands go as he went to hold your hips.  He started off at slower pace until he knew you were ready for anything rougher.  And as soon as he sensed you were ready he picked up his pace and went deeper inside of you.  You had moved your hands to grip on his biseps.  With every thrust he was hitting your g-spot, which was drawing you closer and closer to that cliff of pleasure.  Rain had bent down and had his head against your shoulder, tail wrapped around your ankle, and had started to rub tight circles on your clit.  You let out a pornographic moan as he did this, you were getting so so close to your peak, and Rain had once again noticed because he pulled himself out right before you toppled over again.  

Now Dew had made his way over and whispered something to Rain, which made him smirk.  This made you both nervous and excited for the idea he posed.   

“sweetheart, get up for a second so Rainy can get positioned” Dewdrop had said in a low voice.  You hesitated for a second but you pulled yourself up without having to be pulled up by one of them.  With you out of the way, Rain scooted up to rest up against the headboard, and once he was situated he motioned for you to come over to him.  You crawled over to him and he told you to turn around and sit in his lap.  He helped you into his lap and guided his dick back into your needy hole as Dew had crawled over to you guys.  You let out a whimper as this new angle had him imposibly deeper inside of you.  You reached out for Dew and he came closer and gave you along with Rain a kiss.  It was firey, like him.  Rain had started to thrust up into you softly as Dew spoke.

     “Do you think you could try to take both of us? like we’ve been practicing?” He asked.  

     “Oh fuck yes, Please Dew” you half moaned, earning a chuckle at your eagerness.  Dew then got off of the bed to go over to his nightstand and grab the lube bottle, so it would go a little smoother.  He walked back over and popped open the cap and squired some onto his dick and stroked himself a couple of times before tossing the bottle on the foot of the bed, crawling back up to you and Rain.  He loved how you looked with Rain spreading you in his lap.  He leaned down a bit and kissed you again. 

     “I’m gonna try to push in now, stay relaxed for us Sweetheart”  Dew said, in a semi nice sounding way, as he took his dick and sloted it up against Rain’s.  He was going slow, pushing Rain’s cock farther back into you as he tried to enter you.  You tensed a little as his tip had made it’s way through and he stopped his movements.

     “You’re doing so good for us sweetheart, stay relaxed, I know it hurts at first”  He reassures you, before slowing continuing his movement.  You tried your best to keep your muscles relaxed as he had gotten almost all of the way in you.  He made it all the way in and you let out a whimper and dropped your head back against Rain’s shoulder.  They were still for a little bit while you were adjusting to the stretch.  As soon as you gave the signal that you were ready for them to move.

Dew started moving first, and then Rain started to thrust up, they still went slow even though you said it was okay to go harder.  You felt so full, and it felt so good.  

“Please, Faster, Harder, Please, Please”  You were begging now.  And they wasted no time complying now.  Harder and Faster, You weren’t the only one making noise, Rain was letting out the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard with Dew’s occasional grunt or growl.  Dew leaned down and kissed you, while his fingers moved to your clit to rub circles.  After a bit you could feel the pressure returning once more, feeling even tighter this time.  

     “Please, please, need to cum, Please”  You were aching to be allowed to go over the edge.  

     “Hmm, what do you think Rainy?  Can she”  Dew asked Rain in a teasing tone.

     “I think so, I’m not going to last long either Dewy” Rain whined.  

     “You heard him Sweetheart, let go for us” Dew said between thrusts as his fingers worked faster on your clit.  And you wasted no time with letting yourself go.  Your walls squeezing around your two lovers inside of you.  Your pulsating drew Rain over the edge too.

     “Oh god i’m gonna-” Rain cut himself off with a long whine as he came, deep inside you.  He rutted himself up and held himself there as your cunt along with Dew’s cock sliding against his was milking him dry.  Dew thrusted a few more times before cumming with a groan.  He stilled as well, and leaned down and put his forehead against yours.  He stayed like that for a second before leaning back up, and slowly slid his softening cock out of you.  

You let out a whimper at his actions, “Shh, i know, I’ll be right back” Dew said as he found his boxers and left the room.  Rain let you know that he was going to lift you off of him with a kiss to your neck.  He layed you back against him with his cock now out of you.  The mixture of Rain and Dew’s cum dripping out of you.  You grabbed Rain’s head and gave him a quick kiss as Dew came back with a wet cloth and three bottles of water.  he carefully sets the bottles down as to not drop one of them and he brings the cloth over and crawls back onto the bed.  

     “I’m gonna clean you up, okay?  I’ll be gentle” Dew had said as he started to clean up the mess you guys had made.  After he got you cleaned up he left the bed and handed you and Rain a bottle of water and were instucted to drink.  Dew had already drank part of his and he left the room again for a second.  He came back with one of his shirts and a new pair of panties for you, along with a pair of boxers for himself and Rain.  

     Dew helped you up off of the bed so he could help you put on the fresh pair of panties, allowing Rain to also get up so he could change too.  Once you all had fresh clothes on and Rain had changed the sheets, you all got back into Rain’s bed.  

You were in a happy sandwich between your two favourite ghouls.  You nuzzed into Rain and Dew scooted closer to hug you tighter from behind as you all had fallen asleep after the eventful evening.  

A/N: I hope you all like it even though it is probably shit lol   - Trigg

[souryoong]

at the studio | myg (18+)

authors note: alrighty! so this is my first one shot featuring my mans so I hope y’all enjoy. I proofread this but sometimes I’m blind so be nice please. I’m new to formatting this so sorry if it’s hard to follow. also comments & constructive criticism is appreciated!

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x reader

genre: smut!! (18+ readers), established relationship

word count: 2,594

summary: you’re missing yoongi, therefore you drive to his studio to bring him a coffee & one thing leads to another.

warnings: mature content (18+ and do not interact if you are a minor), tongue kissing, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (m & f receiving), squirting, cream pie, multiple orgasms, fingering, black haired yoongi (deserves warning), yoongi smelling good, overstimulation, minor throat fucking, some after care and kisses at the end. (I think that is all)

It was a late night, and your boyfriend yoongi was at the studio working. You usually tried not to bother him and let him work. However, you missed him exceptionally tonight, and he's been so busy that you haven't seen him in a few days, so you decided to text him.

You: I miss you...how is work?

He answered rather quick, he must not be that busy.

Yoongi: I miss you too. I'm finishing up soon...hopefully.

You: I was going to go for a drive. I'm kind of bored without you. Can I bring you a coffee?

Yoongi: You know me so well❤️❤️ Just call me when you're here.

You left on when you were already wearing; one of Yoongi's Balanciaga crew necks that he left behind at your house one night, and a pair of grey sweat-shorts. You made sure to have red colored matching bra and panties "just in case." You put on a pair of your favorite Nikes, grabbed the keys to your car, and left your apartment.

You drove to the Starbucks closest to Yoongi's studio and got in line at the drive thru.

When you got to the speaker the girl that was working greeted you and you ordered Yoongi an iced americano and a milk tea for yourself. You paid for the drinks, and then made the drive to Yoongi's studio.

As you pulled into the parking garage, you called him.

"Hey baby, are you here?" Yoongi asked you over the phone, you were more than happy to hear his voice.

"Yeah, I'm parking right now." You answered as you found Yoongi's car in the lot and parked next to him. "I parked next to you."

He lightly chuckled. "Okay. Im all finished, I'll be waiting for you. Just come in, my door is unlocked."

"Okay, I'll see you soon." You responded.

You said your quick goodbyes and hung up, then turned your car off, opening the door and grabbing your drinks and heading inside. You visited him so often at the studio that people up front didn't even have to ask anymore who you were going to see.

"For Yoongi I assume?" The girl at the desk asked, jokingly.

You smiled at her as you walked by. "Of course."

You got into the elevator and pushed the button next to the floor number he was on and went up. The doors opened and you walked down the hall to your right. Once at the door, you opened it.

The lights were somewhat dimmed, and Yoongi was sitting in his chair on his computer. He turned around when he heard you open the door, and stood up.

"Hi, sweetheart." He spoke, his use of the nickname making you blush.

"Hi." You smiled at him as he took the drinks out of your hand. It might have been the fact that he was working all day and you hadn't seen him in almost a week, but he had never looked so good.

"What did you get me?" He asked sweetly, taking a sip of his coffee, then reading the label that was on it. "Thank you." He leaned down and gave you a kiss.

He smelled like the most intoxicating fragrance of vanilla, lavender, and sandalwood. You swore you almost felt dizzy. His face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing on you when he leaned over to lock the door.

"What did you get?" Yoongi's simple question made you snap back into reality.

"Milk tea." You answered, gesturing towards the cup that he can have a taste if he wants to. "Your coffee is too strong."

He smiled and let out a laugh. "That's the point."

He set his coffee down on the table and eyed you up and down. "Is that my shirt?" He suddenly asked.

You smiled. "Yes. You left it at my apartment so I may have been borrowing it."

"I think it looks better on you than it does on me." Yoongi spoke, running his fingers through his hair.

He was close to you again, his mood changing as he looked at you up and down. He licked his lips and looked back up at you, but you were already looking at him. The way that his dark hair fell in his face in strands. He smirked at you, then gently touched your face, kissing you.

You both sunk into it, and you found your back against the door in no time. Your hands made their way up, and into his black hair. Yoongi grunted and suddenly forced his tongue into your mouth, making you moan against his. You felt him grind his hips into yours, and the sudden movement and friction startled you.

His lips moved from your lips down your jawline to your neck, giving you chills that you swore you could feel through your entire body.

"Yoongi." You spoke suddenly, a sense of want and need in your voice.

"Hmm." Yoongi lowly hummed, he kissed you behind the ear now and that mixed with the feeling of him breathing on you was making you lose it.

"Fuck." You whined, reaching down to feel Yoongi's growing erection in his black jeans, earning a moan from him as he kissed your neck.

"Teasing me." He mumbled, before his lips were against yours again. One of his hands made their way onto your inner thigh, making its way up your shorts.

You had no doubt in your mind that you were soaked.

His fingers slipped into your shorts, and into your underwear. His middle and ring finger found your clit and you let out an audible whine, earning a smirk from yoongi.

He started to rub your clit at a slow rhythm to work you up and make you even wetter.

"So fucking wet, baby." He mumbled into your ear. "All for me."

Those last 3 words could have made you lose it and his fingers weren't even inside of you yet. You grabbed onto him as it almost was a struggle to keep your balance.

"Fuck." He swore as he pulled his hand away from your shorts, both of you looking down to see his fingertips coated in your slick. "Let's go to the couch, I want you out of those pants."

You both made your way to the other section of his studio where the couch was. You quickly kicked off your shoes and took off the sweatshirt you were wearing, revealing the red colored bra that left little to the imagination. Yoongi bit his lip as you then pulled off your shorts, bending over as you did so.

Yoongi got closer to you, pulling off his sweatshirt that he had on. "Can you sit on the couch for me, princess?" He asked, the use of another nickname getting to you. You did as he said and sat down.

He leaned down and lifted your hips up, pulling you down so you were sort of laying down now. Yoongi got on his knees, gently guiding you to open your legs. He started kissing one of your thighs, and was gripping the other one with one of his hands. Part of you wished his rings would leave marks in your skin.

He kissed the skin close to your core, still covered with your underwear and stopped. With his thumb he gently traced over your slit, making you squirm slightly, earning a smirk from him.

His fingers hooked the piece of fabric and pulled them to the side, exposing your soaked heat and practically throbbing clit.

"I fucking knew my girl would be soaked." Yoongi swore. At this point you were dying to feel him, whether it be his tongue or his fingers.

He brushed his hair out of his face, then leaned down, pressing his tongue against your clit. You whined at the sudden contact, then he began to suck and flick his tongue against it.

"Yoongi." You breathlessly moaned, needing something to hold onto so you grabbed his hand that was holding your underwear to the side.

"Hmm." He hummed against you.

He let go of your leg, and used that same hand to insert his middle finger into your opening. You let out a moan, and yoongi lifted his head up and licked his lips.

"You don't have to be quiet you know, baby." He said, his voice having a deeper tone. "It's soundproof over here, the only person that can hear you is me."

You swallowed, slightly nodding as he now added his ring finger, looking up at you to still make sure you were comfortable.

"Fuck. Yoongi." You whined rather loudly as you watched the way his fingers disappeared in and out of you.

Yoongi smirked at the way you said his name. "Does that feel good baby?" He asked sweetly. "Or do you want more?"

He added a third finger before you could say anything, and you moaned in response.

"Good." Yoongi mumbled, before leaning down to attach his lips to your clit again.

"Oh god." You whined, knowing what was about to come.

His fingers found your g-spot inside of you, making your legs start to shake. You were becoming overstimulated, and almost as a reflex one of your hands was in his dark hair, then you were trying to push him off of your clit.

Yoongi grunted and pulled your underwear further away from your heat, the fabric making a ripping noise.

You eventually gave up in your efforts, your orgasm was coming close and you began to almost feel faint it was so strong.

"Yoongi-ah. Please." You desperately whined. "Please." You were so wet that as Yoongi pumped his fingers in and out of you there was a squelching sound.

You turned your head to the side and closed your eyes shut tightly. Yoongi could tell you were very close, and abruptly sat up again, but began rapidly shaking his fingers back and forth inside of you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

"Fuck." Was all you could whine when suddenly Yoongi quickly pulled his fingers out of you, and a gush of fluid followed suit.

"Fuck. I can't believe you fucking squirted." Yoongi swore, licking his lips and pushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead.

You eventually calmed down, still feeling very sensitive, but now you needed Yoongi more than ever.

Yoongi stood up, and started taking his belt off, his erection now very prominent.

"See what you fucking do to me." He spoke, grabbing himself through his jeans. Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of tasting him.

He threw his belt to the side, then started unbuttoning, and unzipping his jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off to the side.

You leaned towards him, hooking your fingers underneath the waist band of his black Calvin Klein underwear.

"You look so sexy in all black." You spoke, looking at his erection, then back up at him.

"Yeah?" Yoongi breathed out, desperate to have his cock in your mouth.

"Mhm." You licked your lips, then lowered his underwear, wasting no time to slide the tip of his cock between your lips and into your mouth.

"Oh fuck." Yoongi swore, leaning his head back as he felt your warm mouth around him. "So good."

You pushed him into you further until he was hitting the back of your throat, moaning at how good he always tasted.

"Fuck. You take my cock so good, baby." Yoongi whined, and you felt yourself getting soaked again.

You pulled him out of your mouth, spitting on his tip, then using that to jerk him off some.

You took him in your mouth again, this time slamming him to the back of your throat repeatedly until your eyes were watering.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Yoongi grunted, grabbing your face for you to stop. "I'm sorry, but I have to fuck you now." You allowed him to take his dick out of your mouth, and you stood up to let him take off your underwear completely, throwing them onto the couch next to you.

You turned around, leaning your arms against the back of the couch, and your knees apart towards the edge of the seat.

Yoongi put one of his hands on your hip steadying you as he put the tip of his cock against your entrance, making you gasp. He pushed himself into you, making you both sigh at the feeling.

"Yoongi." You whined, putting your knees further apart, wanting to feel him deeper even though you still were sensitive from your previous orgasm.

"Fuck. You feel so fucking good." Yoongi moaned, picking up his pace as he pushed his entire length into you.

You squeezed your eyes shut again as you felt him brush against your g-spot, breath hitching at the thought of another orgasm.

"I bet you missed my cock while I've been at work huh?" Yoongi breathed out, teasing you. "Haven't fucked you like this in a while."

"Uh huh." You spoke, a barely audible whine.

"Can't hear you." Yoongi said, starting to pound himself into you hard.

"Yes. I did." You whined, louder this time. "I love it when you fuck me hard like this."

"That's what I thought." He spoke, secretly loving the way you responded.

You were close to an orgasm again, your core tingling and your legs feeling shaky. You closed your eyes as you savored the feeling.

"Fuck." Yoongi grunted, feeling you getting tight around him as your body prepared for another orgasm. "You're gonna fucking cum again. Fucking hell you got tight."

You didn't say anything in response, only moaned.

Yoongi badly wanted you to cum again, so he changed his rhythm, fucking you hard and fast.

"Fuck, Yoongi." You whined, your legs shaking as you came and your core tightening around his cock.

Yoongi moaned at the feeling as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, your body almost collapsing underneath him as you struggled to steady yourself.

You recovered eventually, still breathing heavily, as Yoongi continued to fuck you, his pace changing.

"Fuck." He swore, breathless. "I'm going to cum, where do you want me to cum, princess?"

"Inside of me." You whined, neediness in your voice. "Please."

"Fuck." He moaned in response, your whining turning him on even more. He suddenly stilled himself inside of you as his cum spilled into you, and you moaned at the feeling.

Once he recovered from his orgasm, he pulled himself out of you. You bit your lip at the feeling of some of his cum spilling out of you.

"Hold on." Yoongi spoke, before putting his underwear back on, and grabbing a box of tissues, using one of them to clean you up first, and then the couch.

You stood up and put your underwear back on, followed by your shorts and sweatshirt.

You sat on the couch in front of Yoongi, watching him get dressed. When he finished, he leaned down to kiss you.

"Did you eat dinner before you came here?" He sweetly asked you.

"No, why?" you responded, running your fingers through his hair.

"Well it's too late to go out." Yoongi said. "We can go back to my place, take a shower, and I can make us something to eat."

"Yeah, I'd like that." You smiled at him. "Only thing is I don't feel like driving." You joked. "You wore me out."

He laughed at you. "Well how about I leave my car here. I'll drive your car, and you just drive me back here in the morning?"

You nodded. "That's better."

[luveline]

everything with you | james potter x reader

summary four times james almost kisses you and one time he does. [9k]

warnings fluff, mutual pining, getting together, first kiss, idiots in love, first date, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, suggestive language/theme, late 90s au, rugby player!james

<3

James Potter is a little obsessed with you. In a cool, extremely chill and normal way, he thinks. It's hard not to be, here, at some random party half drunk and pushed into your side with your perfect hand held protectively over his head to shield him from the hubbub of partygoers.

"Still feeling poorly?" you ask, pushing the hair from his eyes.

"I need a haircut," he says, distracted by your touch.

"No!" you protest in a whisper. "No, James. Your hair‘s lovely, please don't cut it. What would I run my hands through if you did?" You say all this with a lopsided smile, one corner pulled up higher than the other, and a conspiring tone.

He blinks rapidly. Maybe he doesn't need a haircut after all.

Your fingertips push into the thick tresses at his hairline and scrape back. He shivers in light pleasure and reaches out to grab your thigh where his head is resting, indulgently absorbing the warmth of your body.

You barely notice, pulled back into a conversation with a girl on the sofa opposite. James feels his phone pulse in his pocket and is reluctant to retrieve it, worried you'll pause your ministrations. He watches you take a sip of your drink and almost spit it out laughing and deems you distracted, struggling with his phone, just drunk enough that his motor skills are fucking with him as he snaps it open.

Sirius told me to tell you that you look pathetic. Love Remus.

James scowls at his phone and lifts his head from your leg to look towards where he thinks his friends are located. Sure enough, they haunt the kitchen doorway with equally humorous looks on their faces, Sirius smug to Remus' pitying. James flips Sirius off and finds it returned, a perfectly painted and manicured finger held aloft.

You giggle by James' ear. "I hope that's not for me."

"Definitely to me. You'll have to forgive him. He was dragged up," he says, groaning at his embarrassing mates.

"Don't be cruel," you admonish, nudging him with a naked elbow.

His phone chirps again.

I also think you look pathetic. It's cute. Do you want food? Love Remus.

Moons u rly don't need to sign off every txt. Not hngry. Luv u

OK. Love Remus.

James laughs at his friend's hopelessness and tucks his phone away.

"I'm never cruel," he tells you.

You neaten the rolled up hem of his short sleeve unthinkingly and he can't help how much he wants to kiss you. It's all in the little things, he knows. You put your fingers in his hair and he's happy to lie in your lap like a dog; you fix his clothes and he wants to kiss you stupid; you smile at him sweetly, asking if he still feels sick, and if he is does he want you to go sit with him outside for a bit? He's ashamed of the heat in his chest.

James finds himself at your side with an inch between your legs, a porch bench swinging underneath you.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," you say tentatively. He feels an alarming rush of vertigo at your words, until you continue, "But I think you could benefit from some mild temperance."

He scrubs his face, nausea ebbing as you clarify. He thought for a moment you were going to reject him before he even confessed.

"Yeah, maybe. Wouldn't have any reason for you to take care of me then," he says, startled and sounding it. He winces before he's done. You make a humming sound.

"You hardly need to be drunk for me to take care of you."

He sits with this and looks out over the garden. It's a nice space, the home in a wealthy neighbourhood, twinkling fairy lights strung up over the porch and solar powered lamps peppered down a keenly landscaped stretch of green grass and flowerbeds. There's a pretty stone path leading down to the end of the garden where a grey-white fountain spurts water. It sounds calm if you can ignore the sound of the party, which he finds himself more and more able to do as your knee creeps closer to his.

He wishes, and hates himself for it, that he'd worn shorts. Craves that tiny skin on skin contact when your thigh touches him. You must be cold in your skirt, a midi slit up one side that shows the smooth stretch of your outer thigh, colder on your top half in a spaghetti strap shirt and a loose knit cardigan.

If he thought you'd accept it he would offer you his jacket, but you won't. He's tried before. I don't want you to get cold, Jamie.

"You really don't think I should get a haircut?" he asks self-consciously, tugging a hand through his unruly waves.

"No," you say seriously, turning your torso towards him.

"It's a little long," he complains.

"James, please." You lift your hand up to replace his, pushing his hair back.

"I'll look like Sirius soon enough."

You shift. The bench sways. You push your second hand in his hair and pull it all away from his face gently. He can feel the cool breeze on his bare, clammy forehead as you sit there with your hands in his hair

You run your hand through his dark mop one last time, then stop with your hands braced at the back of his head, a big smile on your face.

"Don't cut it," you implore him seriously, looking into his eyes.

He deserves a medal for not leaning into your arms right then and there.

"How do you keep it so soft even though it's this thick?"

He doesn't understand how you can continue a conversation like this without melting. He's melting. You're talking like everything is normal, fingers twined between ink dark strands and fingertips massaging his scalp.

"I… I oil my roots before I wash it." He doesn't share how his mum insists on doing it for him most of the time now he's back home from school.

"You can definitely tell," you murmur.

His eyes shut. He blames it on his drunkenness and not the feeling of your hands.

"James?" you ask quietly.

"Yeah?" he asks, though it sounds more like an unintelligible hum.

"Are you tired? D'you need to go home?"

"Maybe." He does feel suddenly like his limbs are made of stone.

"Who are you going home with?" you ask.

You stand. The bench wobbles. One hand falls out of his hair to rest on his shoulder and his skin warms where it lands, the other tucking stray pieces of hair behind his ears. He opens his bleary eyes and is met with a silver of your midriff, promptly closing them again to push evil thoughts from his mind in which he kisses stripes over that naked skin for hours.

"Sirius is driving me home," he admits reluctantly.

"Let's go look for him."

James reluctantly follows you with a little wobble. His inebriation has faded as the night progresses but a general tipsy dizziness prevails. You press a hand to his lower back and he narrowly avoids trodding on your strappy sandals.

"I don't see him anywhere. Can you text him?" you ask.

James grabs his phone. You both press your backs to the wall to make way for some passersbys. He doesn't bother with texting Sirius: Remus always answers.

Where r u??

Went to get food. Love Remus.

When will u b back?

Sirius wanted Molly's Kitchen. Love Remus.

Molly's kitchen in MILTON KENYES?

Sorry. He is very convincing. Love Remus.

I know he is… luv u see u never when i die here abandoned & cold

See you tomorrow. Love Remus.

It takes him so long to type this all out he's surprised when you're still by his side. You're looking at the picture frames hanging on the wall with the patience of a Saint.

"They ditched me."

"Oh," you say.

"Yep."

"Well, you'll just have to come home with me," you say breezily.

He gawks. You fish your keys out of your cardigan and brandish them like a lump of gold. "I have leftover pizza. Or we can order in. If you're hungry?"

He's not. "Sure. Whatever you want."

"We can walk. It's not that far. If you can walk?"

"I can walk."

Barely. He knows it would've been a lovely stroll with you in the lazy summer air, sun still ligphting the sky despite the time, gauzy pinks and blues skimming the white-gold horizon, if only he hadn't been half cut. Your skin is shiny as finest silk and a gentle breeze floats your perfume towards him and he's close to admitting maybe he's obsessed with you in a way that isn't cool at all by the time you make it to the front door.

It's a mostly silent journey until you're shutting your bedroom door behind you and he's wondering how he got here, sitting at the end of your bed. Your room is an extension of you that he can't take in fast enough. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

You lean down and unstrap your sandals and he toes off his own shoes, trying not to look at how you're bent over, at the silhouette of your legs in your light skirt. Next is your cardigan. He feels like a bachelor in the 1800s, hungry and guilty at your naked skin.

Your silver anklets click together as you weave past him to your bedside table. You flick on the glass shade lamp and an array of multicolour sprays up the wall and your hands. He's mesmerised.

"Pizza," you mumble to yourself, and then looking up at him, "James, I don't have any pajamas for you. Um… oh, and your jeans are gonna be uncomfortable. Do you wear boxers?"

"I- I- yeah. Yes." When he tells this story later, much later, he will not recall stammering here.

"Well, if you wanna sleep in your boxers I don't mind. Better than those awful jeans. I'm gonna heat up the pizza. Bathrooms right there," you point at the door, "if you need it. Are you still feeling sick?"

"No," he says, a smidge overwhelmed.

You reach out and cup his cheek for a second as you pass. He sits in your aftermath and worries he may not make it through the night.

Watching you eat is a strange pleasure. To get to watch you eat is the first, and then the face you make trying to catch a string of cheese is a close second. Now, lying shoulder to shoulder with you, too hot for the duvet and in his boxers he can't get the image of you out of his head. He's too afraid to turn and see the real thing in case you think he's trying to cop a feel.

He'd insisted on sleeping on the floor and you'd laughed so much you went warm in the cheeks. "No, James, that's okay. You're with me."

You'd swapped your skirt for a pair of loose cotton pants. The fabric of which brushed against his calf as you squirmed restlessly.

"It's too warm," you complain.

He's so tired he can barely answer. "Yes."

"I'm gonna open the window," you declare. You climb over his legs and there's so many points of contact he thinks he might go blind.

Window opened, you stand at the sill and pick your vest away from your skin, looking over your shoulder at him, catching him mid-heady gaze. If you care you don't show it, smiling at him with your big hoop earrings still in, your necklace, your bracelets. He frowns to himself. Are you supposed to sleep with jewellery?

You climb back into bed, standing at the edge and flopping down much closer to him than you had been before. It wafts a ridiculous gust of your intoxicating smell over him.

"It's supposed to be this hot all week," you say morosely.

"The miraculous nature of British summer time," he murmurs.

You laugh breathily. "How awful. When it's cold I want the sun to come out and when the sun's out I miss the rain."

He turns his head to watch you talk.

"I like the sunshine." You tilt your head up, in a deep debate with yourself. "It's the humidity I can't deal with. It makes my hair so frizzy. I want soft hair like you, and-" you pause. "Watcha doing?"

"Do you sleep with these?" he asks, poking at the hoop hanging from your earlobe.

"Oh. Sometimes. You're not supposed to, 'cos they're big and all, but I forget."

"Can I?"

"Sure, yes. Please."

He nods and brings his other hand up, pulling the latch off your hoop and sliding it from your ear. He climbs up onto his elbow and presses his fingers to your jaw, turning your head into the pillow so he can reach the other. You're decidedly pliant and quiet under his touch as he pulls the second out. He puts them down by your shoulder and pulls on your necklace until the clasp is in sight.

He's holding his breath. You're looking up into his face with wide, soft eyes, and he catches the tremble you resist as he pulls the necklace free from your neck.

"Tickles," you say sheepishly. He's close enough to feel the warmth of your exhale on his skin.

He drapes the necklace next to your earrings but can't bring himself to move. Your eyelashes twitch. Your lips part and he can see the tiniest sneak of your tongue.

The way you're looking at him is dazzling, dizzying. He smooths down the hair closest to your neck that he'd disrupted while detangling your necklace, ignores the unsteadiness in his hands, presses his fingers to the side of your throat.

Your eyelashes kiss as your eyes drift shut, and he leans down just as you turn your face from his.

"You're drunk, Jamie," you whisper, covering his hand with your own.

He knows you're right. Though drunk seems dramatic at this point, admittedly there's alcohol in his system, and he lets himself fall back into your sheets.

"Sorry," he says.

You bring your arm across your front to grasp his shoulder in your palm. Time moves slow.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

You brush the tousled hair from his face, your touch featherlight and familiar now against his temple. His heart soars as you cuddle in closer, skips when you touch your lips to the muscle of his bicep. "Sleep well," you say warmly.

You break the kiss and stroke the skin there gently with your thumb before turning on your back.

-

so u didn't kiss her?

u r exacerbating my pain, Black

Good. Ur pain SHOULD be 'exacerbated' idiot.

i was tipsy. she didn't want me 2

and in the morning when u were sober ??? couldn't have kissed her in between waffles????

she acted like it didn't happen so I did 2

oh my god! U r so dumb !

James dropped his phone in his lap, feeling the humiliation of his defeat tenfold. Sirius was right, James should have kissed you at breakfast. Maybe. Or at least made his intentions with you clear. He wasn't trying to kiss you because he was drunk or because you were there, he was trying to kiss you because he was hopelessly endeared to you and hoped you might want to put up with him for a bit. Or years. Whatever, it's not like he was planning the wedding or anything. Yet.

He very much hadn't kissed you the next morning. You'd gotten up before him, an angel in your new fresh clothes and your hair out of your face, skin dewy and fucking hell was he lovelorn. He'd been sick as a dog at the table and you'd mistaken it for a hangover, pressing a cup of water into one hand and two ibuprofen in the other, smelling like sweetness behind him.

"Temperance," you'd said encouragingly, lips by his ear.

He relayed this all to Remus over the phone on the bus home, who had listened without judging for the most part up until that point.

"Oh, James."

"You think that's bad?" he'd asked.

"James."

"Just. Don't tell Sirius?"

"I won't." A lie, evidently. At least I can be mad at Remus' blather mouth rather than my own pussy footing, James thinks happily, pulling a throw cushion over his face.

"I'm an idiot," he says into the cushion. It doesn't say anything back.

-

James Potter isn't your boyfriend to your whimsy disappointment, but you think he might want to be.

You'll admit that his tipsy almost-kiss was a speed bump where you worried that awkwardness would wedge between you ruthlessly, but the next morning he'd made enough jokes to have you tearing up and looked at you so adoring you assumed that point moot.

You dress extra pretty tonight, a million different trinkets, silver thin bangles that jingle. Please, you think. Please, James, just ask me on a date.

You're sick of motives. These days you only go so you can see James, tired of party drugs and alcohol and sweaty guys looking at you in that way where you know exactly what they're thinking.

You spy him now, pressing through the doorway with his entourage behind him. You think this with love. His two tallest friends are always right by his side, and a smaller girl trails behind them that you think is called Emmeline.

The first half of his friends that you knew of had arrived earlier in the evening along with your only mutual friend, Mary. You give her a saccharine smile as you peel away, not bothering to hide where you're planning on going.

She smiles indulgently and turns to the short-haired girl, Dorcas. Guilt-free, you wheedle past people you don't know and some that you do, giving pause when one of your friends from school appears. By the time you've finished menial well wishes you can't see James anymore.

"Looking for someone?"

You jump and spin on your flat shoes.

A relieved smile works its way across your mouth.

"James, you startled me," you say, voice light, pressing your fingers to your sternum.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Here." He gestures his big hand to you.

A flower. You take its stem between your fingers gingerly.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Saw it on the way."

You twirl it around and watch its petals dance before passing it back to him.

You smile despite yourself at his crestfallen expression and take a step closer.

"Put it in my hair?" you ask.

His brown eyes lighten, hot amber tea steeped in his irises. He's careful as he sews the flower's delicate stalk into the hair closest to your ear, his mouth hovering just over your forehead. You half hope he's going to press a kiss to your skin before he steps back. He doesn't, though his fingertips give you almost the same pleasure as he flattens what are already well tamed baby hairs.

You want an excuse to stay close to him. He'd done it all by himself the last time by participating in a drinking game he had no chance of winning and needing somewhere to lie down. Your lap had been open. You'd prefer he stray from any recreation of this tonight, and are saved from thinking up a new excuse when he taps the toe of his shoe into yours.

You look down at the rubber toes and then up at his face.

"Want a drink?" he asks.

You pull your shoe back just enough to hit his again. "Depends. What kind?"

"We brought a keg, not that I think you're interested in that."

"Nope," you agree, wrinkling your nose with a grimace.

His answering smile is ridiculously contagious.

"You don't strike me as someone so picky."

"I know what I like," you say, demure. "But I'll try anything once."

His eyes darken, sticky sweet; a playfulness edged in something like I dare you.

"Let's hope I can get you something that sticks," he says back, twice as smooth.

An immeasurable pleasure eats up your spine as his hand comes between your shoulder blades, steering you into the kitchen. He exchanges hellos with guys you don't know huddled around the kitchen table playing cards. One of them lights a cigarette and James stands between you and the twisting smoke, opening his arm out to the countertops covered in drink.

"What do you want, baby?"

You cross your legs and lean forward, pretending to read labels.

"How about you pick for me?" You turn your head to the side and enunciate each word through lips barely parted, eyes tracking his hands where they hang at his sides. His left hand twitches.

"And if you don't like what I choose?"

You straighten up slowly, "Then you'll make me another."

He laughs and you know he can see through all the aloof confidence you carry around you, can see you for who you are, but it doesn't read as cruelty so much as a kindness. You feel the layer of coolness you'd layered on slip away and smile at him with too much teeth, pleased when his hand claps your shoulder and he steps forward to make you a drink.

The concoction he makes is a little too sweet for you but you drink it without complaint, sitting up on the counter where there's room.

He leans with his hand braced behind him next to your thighs, face close to your own and beautiful as he talks to you, brown skin cooled by the white fluorescents and eyes shiny. You can see the smattering of dark stubble coming in if you look, which you aren't. Except that you are. Hungry, you soak in his little details. Tiniest scar by his mouth. Beauty spot not far from it under his nose, almost invisible against his skin. Wavy hair in tighter curls tonight and smelling of coconut or almond or something, fresh and fragrant and thick. His glasses, black wire frames, slide down his nose so often it drives you crazy to watch him push them back up.

Eventually, unable to resist the temptation, you straighten them on the bridge of his nose mid-sentence. He pauses to blow air out of the side of his mouth, warding off a curl dipping close to his eyebrows as you do, and the silence stretches even when your hands are safely returned to your lap.

"You look…" You press your lips together in an attempt to fight off a nervous giggle that slips out anyways as you continue, making the words less serious than they're meant to be, "Pretty. Or handsome. If you prefer."

He puts his drink down on the countertop. You knead your own fingers.

"You look pretty too. Handsome, if you prefer," he returns, creeping closer still. Your chest burns with the pleasure of being complimented. "So much jewellery tonight, you're a mirror ball."

"You don't like it?"

"Didn't say that."

You lift a hand, let all the bangles drop down your arm. "I may have bordered on excessive," you admit, abashed.

"Don't worry, I know all about excessive," he placates, picking his drink up pointedly. The image of him plastered and poorly pops up in your head.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you'd stay sober." You run your finger over the rim of your glass, unable to look at him. "In case I need some help."

His hand reaches out, a finger hooking under one chain bracelet and tugging gently. You can feel his gaze on your face, feel as he puts his drink down again with a final clink. His hand closes around your bracelet.

His fingers are gentle as his other hand slowly, slowly works up your face, fingertips pushing over the delicate, smooth skin of your cheek. His thumb finds a home at the bottom of your chin and he uses it to guide your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

It's intense because you want it, because he's handsome, because he's funny, because he's awfully, terribly kind. Because something between you both fits together like it's meant to, and you just know that if he kisses you everything is gonna work out like it should.

His eyes are on your lips. You follow his eyes with sick excitement and miss when he slips your bracelet off of your wrist.

You look between you both. He holds the silver links between his fingers. It's the only one he would've needed to unclasp, the rest are seamless bangles. This one, silver with small blue cut gems, is just his style.

You hold your palm out, mourn his hand as it falls from your face. You both look down between you as you wrap the tennis bracelet around his wrist and click it into place.

"There," you say, so quietly you're worried he might miss it. "Something for me to take off'a you."

His hand finds your face with purpose now, almost pulling you toward his own beaming face and he's opening his mouth, about to say something with a laugh already on his lips when a shattering crash echoes from the living room and into the kitchen. James stills, hand moving down to squeeze your shoulder protectively as he turns to the door.

A barking laugh. James turns back quickly, apologetic, murmuring a "Jump down?" and pushing his forearm under your armpit to help you down off of the counter.

As soon as your canvas shoes touch down, he takes a light hold on your wrist and pulls you along, following the guys who'd been playing cards. In the living room, Sirius sits at a coffee table with a knife in his hand. Sticking into his hand, blood already pooling around it in a black crimson horror that has half the room in morbid silence and the other half panicking.

Remus, at Sirius' left, is laughing with tears running down his cheeks, sounding like he's one guttural guffaw from throwing up. Sirius looks pretty cool about the whole thing, cooler when he spots James in the doorway.

"Prongs! Come and pull this out, would you? I'd do it, but I can't seem to make myself grab it."

Remus let's out another sobbing laugh. You can't help but giggle from behind James' shoulder, and Sirius zeroes in on this.

James drops your hand, walking forward and bending at the waist.

"Hey, don't think because you're his girl now that means you-fuck! Oh fuck, what the fuck-" Sirius presses the open sleeve of his dress shirt hurriedly into the wound, freshly opened. James holds the knife he'd just pulled free in his hand distastefully.

"Alright, hotshot, run your mouth in the car. You need stitches."

"Fuck's sake."

James drops the knife on the table and shoves the wounded boy's head with the flat of his palm, earning another curse. Remus, finally extending some friendly generosity, pulls the dark shirt he's layered over a t-shirt off and encourages Sirius to wrap it around his hand.

Sirius protests. "This'll give me an infection."

"Fuck off and die, then," Remus suggests lightly, wiping at his eyelashes with the side of his pinky finger.

Sirius wrinkles his nose. James tries to shepherd them both from the room, which has once again grown loud with laughing, most of it at the absurdity of Sirius injury.

"What did I tell you about pinfinger?" James asks scornfully.

"Not to play it," Remus supplies, stepping over people's feet with little apology.

You watch the sorry threesome make their way to the door, a disheartened feeling creeping in.

James opens the front door and pushes Sirius through it, torn looking back at you.

"Remus can't drive, so I'll have to take him," he explains.

"You still have my bracelet."

A weak argument. He can hear your disappointment. He smiles, eyebrows pulling up in… sympathy? Empathy? Apology? You can't tell what, only that he looks soft as butter as he says, "I'll call you? We can arrange a time for you to take it back."

"Okay," you agree, much too happy, just as he's pulled out the door by a bloody hand.

-

James doesn't have your number. He realises this in A&E, close to midnight with Remus asleep on one shoulder and Sirius slouched in the other, waiting for the plastics to come and assess if Sirius has done any permanent damage to his finger.

"I don't understand how you can stab yourself in the hand and fuck up your finger," James mutters for what's likely the fifth time.

Sirius sighs unhappily. "It's ligaments or tendons or something. I might very well have cut through a cord that needs to remain uncut."

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks, James."

"Yeah, you're welcome." James slouches a little lower in his chair to take the strain off of his best friend's neck in a show of genuineness. He does love him, after all, even after shocking displays of public stupidity.

"Sorry for cockblocking you," Sirius says.

"Vile. Wasn't gonna turn out that way. Though I was hoping I might actually make a real move tonight. I did make a real move," James shakes his head, disgruntled. "I was seconds away from kissing her. Your idiocy couldn't wait 30 seconds?"

"Wasn't exactly timing it, mate."

"Yeah."

James digs through his pocket for his phone. He never knows where the damn thing is. Your bracelet is tight to his skin and he looks at it with keen longing, imagining your nicely shaped nails running under it.

He shakes it off, goes to unlock his phone, and this is where he realises he doesn't have your number.

"Do you have Y/N's number?" he asks Sirius.

"No." It sounds like why would I?

"Fuck."

"She's Mary's friend, isn't she? Ask Mary."

He sighs and does as he's told, scrolling through contacts until he finds Mary MacDonald's.

Hi mary was wondering if u have Y/N's phone #

And why should I give it to you, Pots? :3 :D <3

pls mary I am not above begging u

While that would be a sight, I meant why do you want it? But please tell me more about the begging part!!! <33

mary

What are your intentions with my Y/N? She's much too sweet for you to manhandle <33

James blushes at her wording and groans aloud. "Girls are impossible."

"Yep," Sirius says tiredly.

James doesn't want his or your business passed around, and if he tells Mary, Mary will tell Dorcas and Dorcas will tell Marlene and Marlene will tell everybody she knows and will find it very, very entertaining as she does. He doesn't plan on awarding her the pleasure. He tells a white lie.

I found her bracelet and want to give it back :]

I'll give it back for you ;) <3

not that I don't trust u M but its super nice, id prefer to give it in person myself

OK OK I'll stop yanking your chain now Jamesie dearest hahaha. Her number is +44 XXXX XXXXXX. I trust the bracelet gets back to her in one piece. btdub, how's siri? <3

crying and shaking like a lamb, thanks m xoxo

He adds your number to his contacts and then stares at it until the nurse calls for Sirius and they get up to meet her, leaving Remus to blink awake confused at their departure.

-

hi Y/N, this is James

You look down at your rarely used phone and feel a warmth like sunshine unfold in your tummy. You don't use any emoticons, though you want to.

Hi James, how are you? How is your friend?

im amazing how r u? doctors are hopeful that he'll live, but it's up to him now :,(

James

kidding. he is fine. R u busy right now?

no I'm not busy why?

can I call u?

You call him rather than answer. He picks up straight away.

"James," you say quietly.

"Sweetheart," he says back. "Hey, hi. I had to get your number from Mary Magdalene."

"Wow, what was she like?"

"Uh… bloody? Which one was she?"

"I don't know, James," you say, laughing behind your hand.

"What are you doing today?" he asks.

You preen though he can't see. "Nuthin," you say, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. "Why'd you ask?"

"Trapped you there, baby. Don't you know you're supposed to wait until after I tell you what I'm planning before you say you're not busy?"

"Oh, weird. Something just came up."

"Uh-huh. Anyways, busy or not, if you want to: I've got a match later. If you want to come." He sounds nervous. It's a new look on him.

"Do I get to sit pretty on the sidelines with the other girls?"

"You can stand, if you like. But yeah, otherwise. Oh, unless you have some kicks. I doubt it would take much convincing to get you on the team."

"How's that?"

"Well, you know. They aren't blind. Dumb, sure, but we play rugby. Not exactly a honeypot of intelligence, all it would take for half those guys is your pretty smile-"

"You're plenty smart," you cut off his compliments.

James gags. "Keep it to yourself. It starts at six, but come whenever. Oh- do you need me to pick you up?"

"No, that's okay. I'll walk. It's warm out."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll be nice. I'll wear team colours." You're almost afraid to suggest it until he makes a very happy noise that he coughs to hide two seconds too late.

"See you at six, then?"

"Definitely. You owe me a bracelet."

"It's a date." He hangs up before you can say goodbye. Good thing, because you spend the next ten minutes with your face in your hands, smiling so wide your cheeks ache.

It doesn't quite feel like a date on the sidelines but you're too busy walking on sunshine to care. You watch as James throws the ball behind him, torso twisting, bulky arms flexing. His shorts and socks are stained green and his shirt grips tight to his chest.

You can see why he wanted a haircut; ink dark hair falls in his eyes as he sprints after the team and he has no hands to tuck it back.

You'd been a little late, trying too hard to look effortlessly radiant at home and forgetting the time. As soon as you'd arrived, out of breath and half-dressed, you stood at the side of the pitch close to watchers but maintaining a small gap trying desperately to catch his eye. It was obvious when he saw you - he smiled beatifically and raised a wide palm in greeting before getting into position for a scrum.

After a while there's a halftime break where he comes bouncing off the field to your side. He goes straight in for a hug, brave, warm, exactly what you wanted, arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground half an inch with the force of it.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pretend it's all an inconvenience, wobbling on tiptoes. "You're getting grass all over me."

"Oh no," he says, faux worried.

He smells like so many things. Deodorant and sweat, grass and dirt and salt. You press your nose into his hair and smell the almond oil there with a lopsided smile.

He lets you down, holding you at arms length.

"You're so fucking pretty."

You try not to burst into tears, turning your face so he can see the heart on your cheek made up of glitter in his team colours. "It's the team rep."

"No, it isn't," he says, running his hand down your face to straighten your head, pausing with his fingers under your chin.

Your bracelet is still on his wrist. You can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed at the lovesickness you're feeling.

You push his hair from his face. He, reminded of this affliction, levels you with a squinting glare. "This is all your fault."

"Sorry, Jamie," you say, biting back a guilty smile.

"It's fine," he concedes immediately. You're suddenly overwhelmed by the power you have over this poor boy.

"How long is the break?"

"Halftime? About ten minutes left."

You nod, thinking to yourself. "Well, um. You can say no, but. I can plait your hair back, if you want. Out of your eyes."

"You can?" he asks, brightening.

"Yeah, I can."

James sits on the bottom bench of the stand and you stand behind him, your fingers raking through his windblown curls in lieu of a comb. He sits strangely still, more controlled than you thought possible of him as you braid back the longest strands at the front of his scalp, sliding your fingers through his hair as kindly as you can. The small intimacy of it all has your heart racing.

Securing the dark braid with a bobble, you take in the back of his head. His soft shiny hair is oil black in the sun, his skin painted with gold. His neck begs to be kissed.

You rub your hands down the back of his neck, across the curves of his trap muscles and then down his chest, leaning on him so you can press your lips to the highest point of his cheek in a shy kiss. He tilts his head to catch your eye as you pull back.

"Done?" he asks, something indistinguishable in his voice.

"Done," you confirm.

His face is close enough to spot the beauty mark adjacent to his cupid's bow. You resist the urge to kiss that, too, and stand at full height. He copies you. You find that the stands underneath you makes you taller, his eyes are level with yours.

"How's it look?"

"I did alright," you say modestly. "Though maybe a haircut isn't the worst idea."

He laughs and looks down, reaching for your hands. He's different without his glasses, not more or less handsome, but different. The focus of his face changes, and you find yourself distracted by his eyes, his nose, his mouth.

He holds your hands like a prince, brushing his thumb over your fingernails. Then, in true royal fashion, he brings your hand to his mouth. A kiss pressed to your knuckles. One kiss becomes two, two to three, a peppering of pecks up your hand and over your pulse and up your arm. He reaches your sleeve. His hand follows his mouth until he's holding your elbow in his hand like you're a sacred being, pulling you in.

You drift together. His hands cup your upper arms and guide you slowly to the left as he ducks in.

A piercing whistle leaps through the air. You flinch apart like guilty kids, his hands a searing heat through your shirt sleeves as the call for halftime's end rings. Loudly.

He grimaces bitterly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know why this keeps happening to us, I'm-"

"Going to get in trouble," you finish, peeling his hands off of your body. "Go on, before they get mad."

"Your bracelet-"

"Keep it. It looks good on you, anyways."

He leans in and holds you by the neck. Your heart is a hammering racket for no reason - all he does is peck your forehead, quick and firm. Then he pulls back all sorry looking and scrambles over the bench and the kit to get back into position.

You sit down heavily on the cold metal seat behind you and cover your chest with your hands, taking deep breaths through your nose.

He catches your eye from the pitch and winks.

-

"Be thankful it was your mouth and not your nose."

"Explain what you mean," James demands, wincing at his split lip.

You match his stride. James, having been hit in the face with the rugby ball hard enough to bruise and cut his top lip, had refused to let you look at him, despite the horror it had provoked, and then had refused to let you walk home alone. I'm not getting in your car until you see a doctor, James, I mean it.

Fine, then we'll walk.

So you walk. The sun is setting, the sky a mix of white-pink and light blue, a bleeding yellow light throwing big shadows every which way. You step out of the shade of a towering, green leafed tree where the main road began. Before James can stop you, you jump up onto the small metal barrier that stops cars from driving on the pavement and walk across it like a balance beam.

"Please don't," James says.

You ignore him, using your arms to stop yourself from toppling into the road. A small revenge considering he had ignored your medical advice. James lets you do this for around 10 seconds before he grabs your hand in his. You wobble along the last meter of barrier with your joined hands held aloft and tight before you finally let him pull you back down onto the pavement, giggling breathlessly. Cars careen past, each one wafting a breeze of petrol and fallen leaves towards your legs.

Fingers interlocked, you walk. You take in the relative beauty of your town in its approaching dusk, meandering past roundabouts and roads, back gardens and a corner shop.

You persuade James inside the shop and beeline for the cold drinks at the back. The open fridges cool your clammy skin.

"What one do you want?" you ask him.

"Anything. Whatever you're having."

You grab three identical cans and ignore his raised eyebrows as you bring them to the front of the store, the cashier hidden behind lollipop stands, magazines, a plastic shield plastered in leaflets for upcoming events. There's a small TV in the corner blaring summer music that you can't help but hum as you emerge from the shop, swaying your hips in time.

"Who's the third for?" James asks, accepting his can. You tuck your own in your bag and grin.

"You! For your lip," you say. "It's swollen."

"Doesn't hurt."

"Don't believe you."

He reluctantly takes the can from you and complains loudly, exasperated at having two full hands, one pressed to his face. You wiggle your empty one at him in bad sportsmanship. Before long you're standing outside your home and James is hesitating.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask, half-hopeful.

He shakes his head. "I can't, I have to take Sirius to get his hand looked at again by plastics."

"Too bad," you murmur, looking at his chest and then his face. "Thank you for walking me. I know it's out of the way."

"You're never out of the way," he says seriously.

You slide your fingers into the loose hair behind his neck, rub your thumb across the line of his jaw.

"Get home safe," you murmur as you lift up on your toes, shoes creasing. You press a half-open kiss to his jaw where your thumb had been moments before and close your lips over his skin slowly. You linger, pressing a second on top.

There's an unspoken acknowledgement between you both when you pull away. A promise.

He looks a picture of defeat walking down your front path. Covered in dirt and grass and sweat and blood, hair messy and chased by the last rays of sun. You watch until he's at the end of your street, butterflies thrashing in your tummy as he presses his index and middle finger to where you'd laid your kisses, as though checking his pulse.

-

James' parents own a restaurant. He knows, in his right mind, that this is a lame place to take you on a proper first date, only it's the hottest week of the year and everywhere else with outdoor seating is fully booked.

"I don't mind, James. Actually, I'm excited. I've never seen Sirius in a uniform," you say.

He scowls and scoffs melodramatically over the phone until you apologise to him for your terrible, awful, sick joke.

Technically, the Potter's restaurant is fully booked too, and he watches the books like a hawk for a week while his lip heals until he catches a cancellation. He instantly jots down his name. He's caught in the act by Euphemia.

"James," his mum had said, words drawn out. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

So really, he isn't sure why he thinks this date will go well. Everybody who works here knows him, and even as he waits outside for you under the dark wood porch a server comes up to him and nudges him with his elbow emphatically.

You turn the corner and he stops breathing, a vision in your sundress and sandals. He watches your anklets dance as you approach, eyes roving up your body devotedly until he finds a smile that matches his own in tenacity playing on your glossy lips.

He wants to kiss you then but wants more to foster a perfect, romantic evening first, so he's careful as he brings his hands up to your face appreciatively. Your hands hook around his elbows, an excited glaze in your eyes.

"Hi, pretty girl."

"Hi," you say, hushed by shyness.

He caresses your cheeks lightly, worried about smudging your makeup. Your eyes close when his hands move up, sliding over your hair to rest behind your ears. Sparkly earrings hang from each earlobe.

"You look beautiful," he says, because fuck it if James hasn't got game.

Your smile turns pouting at his words. He wants to record your voice and play it back when you say, "Thank you, James," in the softest tone he's ever heard from you.

He wants to stay like this. He swears he could happily stand in this bubble of the world with you and count your eyelashes, memorise the flecks of colour that surround your pupil, but you shimmy out of his hands and prompt him inside.

"Come on, handsome, I'm hungry." And then, inside the restaurant. "Oh my god. It smells amazing. What smells amazing?"

He has no clue. He's reluctant to go to the bar with you only because he knows exactly who stands behind it - Sirius, in his neat uniform, a towel thrown over his shoulder and a bandage wrapped around his hand.

He's well-behaved when he sees you, though a few things he says has James reaching to wring his neck.

"How's your hand?" you ask.

Sirius sets down James' pint and grabs for another glass, shovelling ice and pouring juice. "It's alright. The bandage is for health and safety, not because it's actually injured anymore."

"Plastics said he's fine," James interjects, raising the dark ale to his lips.

"Perfect," Sirius amends cooly, "is what they said. Head to toe."

James corrals you out onto the mezzanine before you can fall in love with the uppity bartender.

It gets worse from there. A server who's known James since he was in nappies takes your orders, an extremely handsome server with a deep dusky voice and black skin so smooth he's practically carved from stone.

"And what's for you, babygirl?" he asks after airing out every embarrassing thing James has ever done on restaurant grounds.

You're still laughing, but you turn to James with all the confidence in the world as you ask, "What do I get, James?"

He feels a little better after that.

The patio is perfect. The sun's out, the breeze is light. Every now and then he has a hint of your smell, sunscreen and perfume. Your leg bounces under the table, a tinkling sound of silver, and you lean forward. He doesn't look at your chest where the necklace hanging over your collar bones disappears, thank you very much, but you're so obviously perfect and he's attracted to everything - your body and your gorgeous face, yes, undeniably, but your voice! Your laugh, your smell, the way your hands move. The way your every word about him drips adoration. The pride in your tone as you recall what should've been his perfect match (if he hadn't been hit in the face).

After a lazy dinner and a second round of drinks he's buzzing and you're lovely, like a flower, bloomed and prettier than anything he's ever seen.

You leave the table and walk along the woodchip path and kids play area to look out over the lake, a dark shimmering sheet split in half by twisting white light, the sun falling from the sky.

The evening grows marginally colder, especially at the lakefront. At the first sign of discomfort he works his arm over your back, hand pressed to the dip of your shoulder

He's waiting for you to look at him before he kisses you.

"It's so pretty," you sigh happily.

Across the lake is a backdrop of green trees and a small, rustic boathouse. A family of ducks swim past, shepherded by a squawking swan.

"Bully," he mutters.

You hum. "Why is there only ever one nasty swan per lake?"

"Gotta fill their quota."

"The poor duckies," you sympathise. "Look, there's one of the fancy ones with a green head over there."

He follows your finger but gets distracted by the bracelets adorning your wrist, can't help but think about how you'd asked him to take them off.

"James, this is… it's really perfect. It's amazing."

He pulls you in a little closer. "I'm glad," he says, though he's finding it hard to respond - he can barely open his mouth. "I wanted it to be."

You finally turn to face him. He guesses his change in tone is what does it, because you sound similarly low and love-sticky when you murmur back, "Everything. It's all been so perfect. Everything with you."

He can't take it. He darts forward, so close to kissing you that the air between you is charged with it. When his nose grazes yours he gives pause, tries to work out what you're thinking as your tongue wets your lips.

Your eyes are closed. He shuts his own and-

"James! James Fleamont Potter! You come up here and help your mam!" his father's voice calls.

He drops his forehead against yours and lets out a pained exhale.

"Dad," he calls back, refusing to move. "I'm a little preoccupied."

"What? James, look, I don't have my glasses and your mother needs someone to write tomorrow's daily special!"

He pulls away from you and sends a heated look over his shoulder, one he's sure could melt metal and that his father can't even see. "And tomorrow's daily special, this couldn't wait until TOMORROW?"

"James, I've no clue what's turned you into such a sour puss tonight and I don't have time to work it out. All I'm asking is that you do this chalkboard for us and then you can get back to-"

"Dad! Dad! Alright, I'm coming!" he hollers back, cutting his father off before he can blow a gasket. "Jesus Christ," he says under his breath, defeated. You frown sympathetically at his embarrassment.

"You should probably go help your parents," you say, sounding similarly disappointed. He nods, unwilling.

"Just, don't move," he pleads.

You smile, total understanding on your face, and he's only taken a few steps from you when you turn back to the lake and your shoulders fall.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He turns your body with his palm on your shoulder and soothes your surprised flinch with a hand on your neck, your eyes meeting for a startled, excited handful of seconds before he's finally, finally, surging forward. You gasp into his mouth and his fingers tighten on your neck, lips aligned with your lips and searching deeper, parting to invite you in. You follow, a dance, a hand pulling you out of the road, a tether, and you taste like everything he's ever thought you might all at once.

You press your spread fingers over the fine material of his dress shirt and moan when he catches your top lip between his. He kisses, again and again, feels you slip through his hands like water. He hooks his arm around your head to keep you in place as he wades into you, slowing, softening, pulling away to plant one, two, three gentle kisses over it all like a balm. You respond to each one amorously. His chest rears to explode at your dizzy, pretty panting when it's over.

He loosens his arm to pull back and take in your entire face. Your eyes are shimmering, lips wet. He wipes his thumb over your bottom lip, finds it burning hot.

"Oh," you whisper.

"Oh?" he asks, endeared and amused and insanely happy.

"I didn't think it would feel so different to all the little kisses from before."

"Good different?" he asks, the damp pad of his thumb smoothing over the warm hill of your cheek, stolen bracelet scraping your skin.

Any anxiety he has unfurls and dissipates into nothing when you smile and lean in for a second kiss. "Good different," you confirm against his open mouth, "everything with you…"

He pulls you as close as any person can be to another person. He has a pretty good picture of what you were going to say, anyways.

<3

my masterlist

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew

[minisugakoobies]

Bet On It | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, enemies to lovers, non-Idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, drinking, fingering, getting frisky in a public bathroom, uh i'm gonna say light bondage, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), Yoongi is a blond menace, undercut warning

Word Count: 6.5K

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

A/N: Sooooo this was supposed to be a drabble, part of my Milestone Celebration. The prompt was “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.” I wrote 500 words... and then another 500... and then bloop! It became a one-shot. Originally I intended to post this on his birthday, but I'm impatient to get started on my next fic idea, so.... here you go!

Thanks to @thatlongspringnight and @namjinsmoonchile for brainstorming trivia team names.

Unbeta’d as usual. I would love to hear what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

“Okay, you motherfuckers, let’s do this. Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!” With a vicious grin, you raise your pint in a toast to your teammates.

Blank stares greet you from around the table.

“She’s doing it again,” Jungkook says.

“I know. Just ignore her,” Seokjin replies.

“Oh, come on,” you sigh. “Help me out here! It’s been three weeks with no wins. You’re our leader, Seokjin–give us a rousing speech! Do something to rally the troops!”

Jungkook frowns. “Jin, you promised you’d talk to her about the military metaphors.”

“I did! And do you know what she said? ‘Roger that!’ Then she saluted!”

“I’m sitting right here, jerks. You’re not even pretending to whisper!” With a frustrated pout, you turn your attention to the busy room around you.

The Blue & Grey is packed once again as you sip on the pub’s latest brew (an apricot wheat, perfect for early summer) while you wait for your trivia match to begin. It’s your Friday night post-work routine, just as it’s been for the last five months, ever since your coworker/work spouse Seokjin invited you to join his team, the Real Jiniuses.

He’d heard through the office grapevine that you liked games. And were a little competitive. Clearly, his source understated the facts.

You love trivia. And you fucking live for the thrill of competiton.

So once you’d stopped mocking him for the team name, you’d agreed.

Seokjin leans forward, long black hair flopping over his forehead as he gently clasps his large hand over yours. He utters your name calmly, like a parent trying to reason with a bratty child. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“Pfft, I think you’re not taking it seriously enough! Do you really want to lose to You Just Got Served? Again?”

You Just Got Served. Aka the Real Jiniuses’ rivals. Led by Hoseok from Legal aka Hardass Hobi as you and Seokjin refer to him. So named because of his ruthless attitude in the office.

Also he had a peach so firm you could bounce a paperclip off it. Not that you, the head of HR, had ever tried that. Ahem.

Normally, your teams trade the top spot in the match rankings, but they’ve been kicking your asses for the last few weeks. And you know it’s all thanks to one man.

Min Yoongi. Your nemesis.

He’s You Just Got Served’s ace. The man with all the answers. The man who annoys the fuck out of you. Because just as quickly as you marked him your biggest competition for ultimate trivia master, he sussed you out as the same.

A sneak glance at his team’s table confirms what you already knew. He’s watching you. Which only adds to your irritation. Sure, his whole team is technically your competition, but all your ire is reserved for the annoyingly sharp, vexingly handsome man studying you from across the room.

Make no mistake, he is handsome. As he gazes at you now with those cat-like eyes, newly bleached-blonde hair hanging messily over his brow, examining you from behind a pair of thick black frames, your pulse quickens slightly, despite your best efforts to appear calm and unperturbed.

“Do I want to lose to Hardass again and have to deal with him bringing it up in our Monday morning meeting? No. But it’s a minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things.” Seokjin pauses. “Do you really want a repeat of Trivial Pursuit night?”

“You always bring that up!” A few weeks into your time with the team, Seokjin had invited you to his apartment to play board games with some of the others. It had not gone particularly well. The ‘take no prisoners’ approach to trivia you’ve got makes for a bad scene when your opponents are your friends. “I said I was sorry!”

And you’d been permanently banned from board games night.

“You made Jungkook cry!”

You scoff, sipping your pint. “Oh, like that’s hard!”

“Hey!” Jungkook protests with a tiny sniffle. You gesture emphatically.

“Fine, point made,” Seokjin concedes, lovingly rubbing his boyfriend’s back while carefully avoiding his glare. ”Can we just have fun tonight? Please?”

Only because he’s your favorite coworker, and only because you don’t want to lose yet another friendship over a game, you give in. “Yeah, yeah, fun, whatever. I’ll get the next pitcher.”

The bar is horribly crowded as you approach. Apparently all the other players have decided to place their drink orders at the same exact time. Tapping your fingers on the smooth wooden surface, you’re patiently waiting to catch the bartender’s eye when a velvety voice rumbles in your ear.

“Back for more, huh?”

The devil himself. “Hi, Yoongi.”

He slips in beside you, propping himself up on an elbow on the bar. If you were friends, you’d tell him that you think his fresh undercut is striking, and paired with his newfound blondness, makes him look like a goddamn snack.

But you’re not, so you just ignore him and keep focused on flagging down the bartender.

“I never pegged you for a masochist,” Yoongi notes, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth. You try not to follow the movement with your eyes but it’s like breathing - happens completely involuntarily. “Yet here you are again, looking for more pain. Which I’m more than happy to provide.”

You finally place your pitcher order with the bartender before sizing up the man beside you. This is your other Friday night routine–trading insults with Yoongi. It’s how you prepare for the game, exchanging verbal jabs with the enemy. Though lately it’s been more innuendos than barbs, especially on his end, and these back-and-forths leave you feeling more heated than ready for battle.

Damned if you'll let him know that, though. Admitting that Yoongi has some sort of power over you feels like admitting defeat. And that’s the one thing you’ll never do.

“God, I can’t wait to make you choke on those words when we beat your ass tonight.”

His lips twitch mirthfully. “Oh, now you want to choke me? And there’s the sadism. Fascinating. I’m just learning all sorts of new things about you tonight.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, rolling your eyes. He’s so transparent with these attempts to get under your skin. It’d be hilarious, if only they didn’t work. “Maybe you should spend less time learning about me and more time studying up on your trivia? Then you won’t have to resort to these childish attempts at riling me up to feel superior.”

“Please. We both know I don’t need to do any of that. When it comes to trivia, I’m the king.”

“You’re the worst, your highness,” you proclaim, tone dripping with disdain.

He sidles closer, near enough that you breathe him in. Despite all his sharpness, his scent is so soft–lavender, with woodsy notes, mixed with the spice of the whisky cocktail he exhales as he peers at you through those dark glasses. Warm and inviting.

“Oh, I like that. You can call me that from now on, if you’d please.”

“Fuck off. Prepare to be dethroned, asshole.”

“Ha. You making a run for the crown? Good. Bring it. But know that I never back down from a challenge.”

Your retort is cut off by a voice behind you. “Yoongi, did you–oh.” It’s Hobi, looking devastatingly gorgeous as usual in a perfectly tailored suit. Since most of the players here come straight from your place of work, it's a rather well-dressed bunch of nerds. No complaints on your end. “I was gonna ask what’s taking you so long with my drink, but nevermind. I see now.”

“Just having a friendly little discussion here.”

“I’m sure.” Hobi nods coolly at you before he nudges Yoongi out of the way to speak to the bartender. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Oh no, please do,” you quip. “I insist.”

Yoongi pouts, pretty lips puffing up before that cocky grin reappears again. It’s never far when he’s talking to you. “But we were having such an illuminating conversation.”

“You mispronounced ‘torturous.’”

His smile widens and you realize you’ve once again led him where he wants the conversation to go. It’s incredible. You never intend to set him up like that and yet there you go walking directly into his traps every time.

You sidestep.

“Well, it depends on–what? What are you looking at?” He slaps a hand to his slender neck suddenly, rubbing as though he’ll find something staining the skin there, based on the way you’re squinting as you stare at his throat.

“Sorry, I’m just marveling at the structural integrity of your neck.”

He lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s amazing that something so thin can support something so big.”

His eyes flash before he smirks, opening his mouth.

“If you’re about to make a big dick comment, I swear to God I’ll kick you straight off this team right now,” Hobi promises from over his shoulder, and Yoongi swiftly closes his mouth. “Come on, enough harassing the competition.” He tips his drink towards you. “Best of luck.”

Hobi leads Yoongi back to their table, and you know you shouldn’t ogle him openly, but Yoongi’s tight pants hug his ass so obscenely that you can’t stop yourself and oh, great, he caught you looking. Hastily, you grab your pitcher and bolt for your table, which is close enough to where Yoongi sits that you can hear him chuckling delightedly.

The quizmaster welcomes everyone to trivia night, and your thoughts are quickly replaced by the only thing that could drive Yoongi out of your head–the exhilaration of the game.

Two hours later, sitting at the bar, you’re trying to drown your sorrows with yet another pint. You Just Got Served’s winning streak continues.

“That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

You frown as Yoongi takes a seat on the barstool next to you. “What sound?”

“The little noise you made when your team lost.” He sips his drink casually, eyes once again fixed on your face, observing your reaction closely.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you sniff, crossing your arms. “I didn't say anything.”

For once, you hadn’t. You’d been so sure that your team was going to pull out the win with the final question tonight that you were left completely speechless by the results. Unlike last week, when you’d let loose a flurry of loud expletives, much to Seokjin’s absolute embarrassment.

Okay, maybe tonight you’d made a little exclamation of protest. Just a tiny one. But there was no way Yoongi could’ve heard it.

“You absolutely did. Kinda sounded like a… a needy whine?” The smirk returns. “I’ve never heard anything so sweet.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that because you’ve never made a woman whine before?” Yoongi scowls as you raise your pint to your smiling lips.

Hobi suddenly materializes at your side like a sexy but stern magician. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You should really consider joining our team,” he says, motioning to the bartender for a refill. “Aren’t you tired of losing?”

“Cross over to the Dark Side? Aren’t you supposed to entice me with saving my friends or offer me cookies or something?”

“Fuck, even for a nerd, you’re a nerd, you know?” Hobi sighs. “Which is why you should be with us. You’re absolutely wasted on the Jiniuses. Don’t you want to be on the winning team for once?”

“Save it, Hoseok.” With one hand, you shoo him away. “Go gloat elsewhere. It’s bad enough I can never shake this one,” you thumb at Yoongi.

“Yeah, weird how that always happens,” Hobi comments drolly, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder as he drifts off to bother Seokjin.

“Anyway…” Yoongi drawls as if he were never interrupted, “what will it take to get you to make that noise again? I miss it already.”

“God, what will it take to get you to shut up about it?”

“How about a little wager over next week?”

“Mmmm, not much of a gambler.” Contests, you like. Gambling, not so much. You don’t believe in luck. Just in yourself.

“Afraid you’ll lose? I would’ve thought you’d be used to that by now.”

He’s such an ass. “Fine, let’s say I take you up on this. What’s in it for me?”

“Name your prize.”

“Okay, how about… if my team wins, you pick up our tab for the night.”

He taps his glass thoughtfully. “Is that all?”

“What, that’s not enough?” He has no idea how much Seokjin alone can drink.

“I’m just saying. Make it worth your while.”

Tossing back the rest of your drink, you reconsider. What do you want? “All right. You pick up our tab, and you have to stop annoying me every week. Which means no more comments about stupid shit like imaginary sounds.”

He’s silent for a moment, still examining you as he mulls your words. You wonder if you’ve made a mistake with your choice of prize. Don’t you enjoy being the center of his attention every week? Crave his fiery words and longing looks? There’s a weird sense of panic growing in the pit of your stomach while you wait for his response.

“Okay,” he finally replies, setting his empty glass on the bar. He tilts towards you, and the loud din of the room around you dies away as he murmurs, “But when my team wins, I’m finally going to take you home and do everything I’ve ever wanted to do to you, over and over, until you can only make that sweet little sound.”

A jolt ripples through you. Shifting in your seat, squeezing your thighs together, you inhale deeply to control your breathing, so you give nothing away. “Are you kidding me? You really think I’d agree to that? To offering myself as a prize?”

“Yes.” Stated so matter-of-factly.

“And just why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because you want to come home with me. You’re just too proud to admit it. So I’ll make it easy for you. When I win, you’re mine for the night.” He lightly skims a long finger down your arm, and goosebumps rush to fill the space where his skin touched yours.

The satisfied look in his eyes as you struggle to compose yourself is the only thing anchoring you to reality, keeping you from grabbing him by the tie and dragging him straight into the bathroom.

You won’t let him win that easily.

“Well. That is simply not going to happen. I’ll take the bet, because I know it’s the only way to get you to stop bothering me, and because I know I’m going to win.” Gracefully, you climb off your stool, thankful that your legs haven’t turned to jelly after what he said. “You’re going down.”

He winks. “Well yeah, fingers crossed, love.”

Your scowl leaves him laughing as you stalk away.

“I’ve been dreaming about that noise all week long.” Yoongi’s voice drifts over the clatter around you. After another long week, it’s Friday again, so you’re at the bar, ordering provisions. And of course Yoongi’s here, too, wearing a grey three-piece suit, running his hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, looking delicious as always.

How annoying.

“You’ve been hallucinating an imaginary sound? You should probably get that checked out.” The bartender slides a cocktail towards you and you give them an appreciative nod before taking a sip.

“Really?”

“Really what?”

He grins, pink lips revealing a gummy smile. “Is that the best you’ve got tonight?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You’re not stressing about the match, are you? Wouldn’t want to win because you’re not on your game.”

“I’m always on.” Maybe it’s the exhaustion of a long week getting to you, but his snarky comments are even more irritating than usual tonight.

“Good. Because I want to know I’ve beaten the best.” The corner of his mouth lifts, that familiar crooked smile igniting a flame inside you.

You quickly tamp it down.

“Always so damn confident, aren’t you, Yoongi? Talking so big. Even if you win, do you really think you can make me make that sound again? Or any sounds, for that matter?”

He watches you over the rim of his glass as he takes a long dram. Something flutters against the bare skin of your thigh and you glance down to see his other hand brushing lightly along your leg.

“I assure you that I can and I will. But if you’d prefer a demonstration…?”

The hem of your skirt is pinched between his fingers. He rolls the fabric up slightly and you inhale sharply as his thumb strokes the smooth skin beneath. Tearing your gaze away from his hand, you find him studying your reaction. Waiting.

The quizmaster for the evening announces ten minutes until the match. You snap out of your trance and swat his hand away, hoping your bored expression is more convincing than it feels. “No need to embarrass yourself now. Save it for the quiz.”

Even though you know you shouldn’t, you glance back over your shoulder as you saunter away. Yoongi leans against the bar, tongue poking his cheek as he watches your hips sway and fuck, he’s caught you looking again. That spark inside you burns as he winks, and you turn away, in desperate need of your drink and a distraction.

Without a doubt, trivia night is always the highlight of your week. But tonight you’re too keyed up to truly enjoy it. Every round has you on edge, wondering if you’re one step closer to winning or losing the bet–and trying to figure out which outcome you’d prefer. All of this means a quieter, more subdued you than usual. Naturally, your friends notice.

“You feeling okay tonight?” Jungkook asks between the second and third rounds, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You flash the briefest of smiles. Jungkook jerks his head at his boyfriend, who shrugs and raises his eyebrows. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here looking right at you.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Seokjin exclaims.

“Please. Your face is louder than a fire alarm.”

“You say you’re fine, but you’re still on your first drink, and you haven’t made a single warfare reference all night,” Jungkook states. “So obviously you’re not.”

“It’s nothing! Just a little out of it after a rough week,” you lie, trying to summon some enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, I’m ready for the next round! Once more unto the breach!”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose adorably as Seokjin grants you a half-grin, but you know they’re not fully convinced.

Is this Yoongi’s evil plan? To psych you out with this bet and mess with your mind? Prevent you from playing your best? If it is, it’s really working, goddamn it.

Somehow, despite your inability to relax, the match flies by, a blur of questions and answers and shouts of victory and defeat. It comes down to a repeat of last week, the Real Jiniuses and You Just Got Served neck-and-neck to the very end, with everything hinging on the final question.

“Alright, the category tonight is ‘Literature of Future Past.’ If you don’t know this next question, don’t blame the stars. What famous phrase from classical literature was infamously uttered by General Chang, the Klingon villain from the 1991 film ‘Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country?’”

As your teammates whisper to one another, hazarding wild guesses, you glance at Yoongi’s table. Like your team, he and the others sit with heads bent towards one another. But you have a clear view of Yoongi’s face, all furrowed brows and pouting lips.

For once, he doesn’t look confident.

“Hey!” Seokjin’s voice brings you back to the group. “You haven’t said a single word in the last five minutes. Do you have a guess or what?”

You don’t need a guess. Calmly, you whisper the answer to Seokjin. Everyone else seems uncertain, but you’ve never been more sure in your life.

“And the answer is–“

You can’t hear what the quizmaster reveals because one of your teammates begins screeching in your ear. Your eyes are fixed on You Just Got Served’s table as the scores are revealed.

Yoongi’s expression says it all.

You won.

There’s a lot of cheering and even more drinking after the results are announced. You’re thrilled that your team has finally snapped their run of losses. But you hang back a bit, watching your friends carry on carousing without you.

The celebrations eventually die down and your teammates begin to drift away. Soon, you’re the only one left, nursing another drink at the bar. You know you should go home, but you feel antsy, like you’re not quite done with the night yet.

“Congratulations,” Yoongi mutters, shouldering his way next to you. He motions to the bartender that he’s ready to close out his tab, which is undoubtedly astonishingly high given how much your team imbibed after you told them it was on him.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that?” Mustering up a playful grin, you cup your ear.

His mouth sets in a flat line before he speaks again. “Congratulations. You won. I’ll stop bothering you.” His long fingers drum quietly on the bartop as he waits for his card. There are no quippy comments, no teasing smiles, nothing but silence and distance.

Well, you don’t care for this at all.

“How disappointing,” you remark, twirling the stir stick from your cocktail between your fingertips. “I guess you talk a big game, but just can’t deliver, huh?”

Yoongi turns to you with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“For your information, I didn't miss a single answer tonight, other than the last one! Any other night, that would’ve been enough to beat you,” he sulks. “That final round was bullshit. Who’s even watched that stupid old movie?”

Wow. Someone’s a sore loser.

“Except it wasn’t any other night, it was tonight, when you really needed to dig deep and secure the win, and you just… couldn’t.” You tip your head, giving him an appraising look. “And now you’re just giving up, huh? Throwing in the towel, because you lost one match.”

“Throwing in the - what are you talking about?” he hisses, attention fully focused on you now. You can feel the heat of his body where his arm presses against you, jostled closer by the other patrons vying for the bartender’s attention. “The bet’s over! You won. I lost.” His jaw twitches slightly with that last declaration.

Oh. You understand instantly. He’s mad at himself for losing.

It’d be so easy to reach out and grab his chin, look him in the eye, and tell him that you don’t care about any stupid bets. You want him to take you home. Make you his. But that requires you to surrender yourself to him, and that’s not the way you play.

“You know what I want?” The last dregs of your drink flow down your throat as you tip your head back to drain your glass. Yoongi watches closely, eyeing the graceful line of your neck with interest. “What I want is for you to show me that I beat the best tonight. Didn’t you say you never back down from a challenge? Then prove it.” He’s breathing hard as you smirk, twirling his black tie around your fingers. “Show me that you can deliver on that offer you made earlier. Make me whine, Yoongi, right here, right now, and I’m all yours.”

His eyes are darkened pools as he studies you. God, how you long to dive in. “Are you serious?”

"Mmmhmm. If you still want to take me home, you gotta make me want it. Show me what you can do.” Gently, you untwist his tie, smoothing the silky fabric, letting your fingertips skim against his chest as you gaze at him through lowered lashes.

“Fuck,” he whistles a low note. His tongue dances over his lower lip. “Come on.”

His hand grasps yours, pulling you off your seat. Most of the trivia crowd has cleared out by now. The quizmaster has been replaced by a deejay currently spinning something loud and fast. You wind your way through the crush of bodies on the dance floor as Yoongi leads you into the back hallway of the pub.

He pauses for a second at the door of one of the bathrooms. When no one answers his questioning knock, he quickly urges you inside and locks the door behind you.

In the flickering fluorescent lighting of the restroom, Yoongi removes his glasses, tucking them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. His gaze slowly roams over your body, a nakedly hungry look on his face. Gone are the winks, the smirks, all those cocky little gestures he loves to tease you with. This is the expression of a man who wants to devour you whole, in no uncertain terms, and he’s dying for you to know it.

One of his hands cups your cheek while the other slides up your thigh, bunching your skirt as it goes. “If at any point you want me to stop, just say the word,” he instructs you. “This is only fun for me if you’re into it, too.”

“Okay.” Your breathing is a little shaky. The intensity of his gaze has you rattled. But you’ve already decided you want this, so you don’t plan on saying a word.

In fact, you don’t plan on making any noises at all. You’re not giving him an inch, or rather, a whine, unless he earns it from you.

With a tilt of his head, he pulls you into a kiss. A hint of whisky still clings to his lips, sweet and smoky, but it’s the bite underneath that has you leaning into him, seeking more, getting drunk on him. You curl your fingers into the lapel of his suit as he slides his hand around to your ass. He palms you through your panties, then lifts your leg to wrap around him as he grinds himself into your core.

He’s so hard against you already. Knowing that you’ve done this to him spurs you on, your lips falling open enough for him to lick into you. His hands find the zipper on your skirt and in an instant it’s crumpled around your feet.

“You taste so good,” he whispers, kissing a trail down your neck. “Do you taste like this everywhere?” You nearly moan his name, but bite your lip in time. Abruptly, he drops your leg and pulls away, and you teeter for a moment before catching yourself. In your head, you call him a few choice names, but you say nothing out loud.

His smirk reappears as he drops to his knees. “Better hold on to something.” He buries his face in your heat, kissing you through the sodden silk and lace he finds there. A keen bubbles up but you swallow it back down as his nose finds your clit and rubs against the sensitive nub. “You can start with me.” He grabs your left hand, placing it in his hair. Instantly, you card your fingers through his platinum locks. With your right hand, you grip the sink, needing something steady to keep you in place.

The man between your legs yanks your panties to the floor and dives in with no hesitation. His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit before he begins to swirl it around your clit and then his hands join the fray, fingers prying back your folds as he slips inside.

Your own tongue is speared between your teeth, to the point that you begin to fear you might chomp clean through. But if you let go, there’s no telling what sort of sounds will escape your lips, so you continue to hold it. Releasing his hair, you clutch at the sink with both hands.

Yoongi chooses that moment to replace his tongue with his index finger, and your mouth falls open as you rock your hips forward. How did he find that spot so quickly? He’s playing you like a musician plays an instrument, all deft fingers and graceful tongue, making your body sing.

“You like that, love? Hmm? Want another?” He adds a second finger.

Swiftly, you stuff the palm of your right hand into your mouth, gnawing to suppress any whimpers. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel yourself nearing your peak, continuing to rut your hips brazenly as you chase your high on his thrusting fingers. God, you’re going to cum if he keeps this up, but there’s no way you can possibly do that silently.

“Oh, look at you,” Yoongi groans happily, mouth lapping at the wetness clinging to your thighs. “Humping away, so needy. Are you wishing that was my cock inside you? Hmm?” He nips when you don’t reply. “I asked you a question, love.”

His fingers suddenly withdraw as his tongue stops.

Your eyes fly open. Releasing your palm, you glance down to find him resting on his heels, watching you with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“So that’s your game, huh?” he rasps, grabbing the hand that was just in your mouth. His thumb rubs over the teeth marks there. “Muffling yourself, so you won’t make any sound?”

You shrug, crossing your arms. “Maybe. Does it matter?”

“I think it does. Seems a bit like cheating to me.”

“It’s not cheating,” you petulantly claim, frustrated beyond belief. Can’t he just let it go and get back to proving his skill? You were so close. “It’s just… it’s like the final round. You know, it’s meant to be a challenge, not a walk in the park.” He doesn’t make any movements, continuing to observe you closely, and you pout. “Come on, I thought you didn’t back down from anything!”

Yoongi tips his head to the side as he considers your words. “I suppose you’re right.” He stands, loosening his tie. “You never really set any rules for this… challenge… of yours, so I can’t really say it’s not fair. But, you also didn’t specify what I could or couldn’t do, so....” He yanks the silky material from around his throat. “Turn around.”

He grips the tie tightly as you shoot him a curious look. “And what exactly do you think you’re going to do with that?”

He doesn’t answer, just takes a step forward and lightly grasps your chin. “Turn. Around.” The tone of his voice is commanding, but there’s a question in his eyes. A way out, if you want it.

You turn around.

“Clasp your hands together.” Silently, you obey, and he wraps the tie around your wrists, binding them together. “Too tight?” Testing his work, you find that you have a little give, but not enough to get loose. Once you shake your head, he spins you around to face him again.

“Let’s see how quiet you can be now,” he murmurs, lowering his face to your neck and sucking at a sensitive spot beneath your ear. You huff a breath through your nostrils, still determined to keep completely mum.

Yoongi’s hands run over your blouse before tugging it up, sliding it over your breasts. His lips glide down until they meet your bra. He mouths at your nipples through the dark lace and you arch into him, wishing your hands were free so you could remove all the fabric preventing his hot kisses from touching your bare skin. Having him so close is torture.

Which is obviously the point.

You’re shifting around, trying ardently to get him to slide your bra down without actually saying anything, when there’s a knock at the door.

You both freeze. Yoongi lifts his head.

“Maybe we should–”

“Do you want to–”

“Hello, is someone in there?” More knocks. “Come on, there’s a line!”

“Do you want to stop?” Yoongi asks.

“God no,” you answer immediately, without a trace of shame.

A full gummy smile crosses his face. Then he turns and bellows, “FUCK OFF!”

The knocking ceases.

“I guess I should move things along,” he hums, tracing his hand down your torso. “As much as I wish I could take my time right now, I can’t. But that’s okay. After this, we’ll have all night.”

Without warning, he pulls you flush against him and kisses you fiercely. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his greedy mouth. With your hands bound, you can’t run your fingers through his hair or cling to his shoulders or touch him in any of the million ways you’re dying to right now. You can’t even hold yourself up, melting into his embrace. He’s completely in control.

So you surrender.

His kisses grow messy, more desperate, until you’re both gasping for breath. His hand finds its way between your legs, stroking and plunging, one finger, then two, before he’s on his knees again.

“Lift this for me,” he bids you, bending your left leg. “Just let it rest here.” You wobble a little as you try to balance your thigh on his shoulder, puffing a frustrated breath, but before you can keel over, his strong hands grip your waist. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, love. Just lean back.”

Your back tilts against the cold sink. Yoongi’s supporting most of your weight as his hand splays on your stomach, holding you in place so you’re angled just right, completely open to him, just as he desires.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs reverently. “Such a shame I can’t savor you right now. But I promise I will later.” And then his mouth is on you.

The rude interruption seems to have lit a fire under him, because as soon as he sets a relentless pace, he doesn’t stop. He keeps finding that spot inside you, lithe fingers brushing over it again and again, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. As he tongues at your clit, treating the tiny bud like a drop of the sweetest nectar, you realize your end is approaching quickly again.

You try to keep quiet. You really do. But all your effort is completely useless against Yoongi’s talented hands and tongue. Once your mouth goes slack, it’s over.

You begin to wail.

“Yoongi, oh fuck!” The floodgates open and you gasp, you moan, you scream his name. “Jesus, fuck, oh my god!”

He’s laughing into you, and you struggle hard against the tie, fighting to slip a hand loose so you can get your fingers on him, grab his hair, touch him, but in addition to being a trivia master he’s also apparently a fucking knot expert, so you’re not getting free. With a frustrated whine, you drop your head.

Game over. He wins.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb as he watches you through heavily-lidded eyes. “There it is, love! There’s that beautiful sound I’ve been dreaming of. I knew I could get you there.”

All you can do is groan his name. “Yoongi, please!” Not even sure what you’re pleading for, just knowing that you want whatever he’s willing to give.

The fingers pumping in and out of you make the filthiest background noise as he babbles on, caught up in the rush of victory. “Fuck, love, everything you do is so fucking hot - the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you moan my name. You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t wait to have you tonight. You ready to get fucked by the king?”

“Yoongi.” He’s still the fucking worst and you hate how much you love it, clenching at his words. “Oh fuck, please don’t stop!”

He feels you tightening around him and growls. “Say it. Say I’m the king.”

Right now you’d say anything he told you to if it meant he’d keep going. “You’re the king! Ah, fuck, you’re the king!”

With another thrust of his hand, you come undone. The burning inferno inside you spreads, consuming you so completely that your right knee buckles and you pitch forward. Yoongi holds you up, one hand on your torso, the other gripping your left thigh, still lapping at your cunt until you can’t take any more.

Panting, you protest. “Too much, Yoongi, it’s too much.”

He stops, glancing up at you. A glossy sheen of sex is smeared all around his nose and mouth, and as you fight to catch your breath, he removes his hand from your core and sucks each finger clean, one by one.

“God, you’re so over-the-top,” you huff as he laughs. “Will you untie me now?”

He rises to his feet. “Say it one more time and I will.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.” He blinks languidly, a proud smile curling his lips. “Tell me I’m the king.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Just say it.”

He’s unbelievable. You try appealing to his baser instincts. “Please, Yoongi, I wanna touch you. Don’t you want me to touch you?” Bringing your knee up, you rub against the massive tent in his pants, smirking as he exhales forcefully.

Yet he doesn’t cave, running a thumb over your lips. “Come on. One more time. I wanna watch this pretty mouth say it.”

You want to kiss him and curse him all at once. Pleasing him wins out.

“You’re the king,” you sigh. “Now untie me and fuck off.”

You start to turn, but Yoongi stops you with his hands on your hips, and leans in for a kiss, slow and sure. Something must be seriously wrong with your knees because they’re seconds from giving out again. His fingers pick at the knotted tie, releasing your wrists. As soon as your arms are free, you loop them around his neck, never breaking the kiss for a second.

Until there’s another knock at the door.

“Hello? Look, whoever’s in there, can you please wrap it up?” the bartender hollers through the door. “Other people need the restroom, you know.”

“JUST A MINUTE!” you boom, giggling at Yoongi’s startled expression. “Sorry.” “I’m assuming my demonstration was satisfactory, given the many, many sweet sounds you made. I didn’t hear a single complaint, but I think I did hear you call me the king once or twice….” he trails off, grinning as you push him away and adjust your blouse, straightening the wrinkled fabric over your stomach.

“Oh, fuck all the way off, will you?” You reach for your panties but he swipes them up first and stuffs them into his pocket.

“What?” His tone is airy and innocent. “I earned these.”

No argument there.

Once you’re both looking respectable enough to leave the bathroom, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “I know what you said earlier, but you’re not under any obligation to–”

“Yoongi.” His voice falters as you place your hand on his chest, fingers curling around his tie. “Take me home.”

With a smirk, he opens the door.

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Peña’s Anatomy — Two

pairing: doctor au!javier peña x resident!reader

chapter rating: E (smut, mentions of gore, talk of surgery, unprotected sex)

word count: <6.1k

authors note: since i’m not a medical professional and only know what greys has taught me, the majority of the information on the cases in this series will be taken from Grey’s Anatomy. i’m also aware it’s not super accurate to real life hospital life!

series masterlist

“Do you want me to beg? Because we both know I’m too good for that.”

Javier was following the chief of surgery through the halls of the hospital, attempting to convince the man to remove you from his service.

“Javi, you’re the best neurosurgeon in this half of the country and you’re begging me to remove a third year resident from your service because…?” The old man stopped at his office door and looked at his protege with a scowl. Javier sighed and shrugged.

“First off, I’m not begging. Too good for that, remember? Secondly, it’s…because she’s not a good fit for neuro. That’s it…that’s…yeah, whatever. Doesn’t matter. All I know is that she’s not the right fit, and I can’t do my job if I have to keep checking in on my residents all fucking day. Send her to cardio or trauma or OB, for fucks sake. Neil seemed to love her when she was on his service.” Javier sounded like a whiny child as he pleaded his case.

“Fine. Send her to the ER. Whatever it takes for you to go away and do your job.” He sighed and opened up the door to his office, Javier smiling and nodding proudly at himself as the Chief shut his door on him.

The past week since realizing his attraction for you had been absolute torture for the man. Everything you did filled him with a teenage-boy like desire. Things he never even realized got him going now made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. The way your hand brushed his in the OR while you handed him forceps, the way you yawned when you stepped out of the on-call room with a big stretch, the kindness and attention you paid to every single human who interacted with you—it all made him feel like he was lit on fire from the inside.

This morning, it all became too much for him to handle. He was standing in the hallway with Jessica, trying to gently convey his disinterest in continuing their sexual relationship when you walked into the hospital with Mickey. It was the first sunny day in a few weeks, the early morning light shining on your face as you laughed at something your friend said. Your hair was up for the first time since he’d met you, and the sight hit him right in the chest, his lips parting and ears tuning out whatever it was that the nurse was trying to say to him.

“Dr. Peña, Jessica.” You nodded at him with a soft half-smile as you passed him, his eyes following you until you disappeared down the hall.

“So what do you say?” Jessica’s hand on his forearm brought his attention back to her, his lips parting as his eyes took in her sultry smirk.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you want to meet me in the on-call room.” She began to look discouraged as Javier opened his mouth to reject her. “What’s with you lately? You’re not fucking me, you’re not fucking any of the other nurses that I know. Are you just not…fucking anybody?”

“It’s been a busy few weeks.” He stood up off the counter he’d been leaning on and knocked on it. “I’ll see you around, Jessica.”

•••

“Did you see him all over Jessica? How dare he? After asking me if you were single? Men.”

“Men.” You agreed with Mickey as the two of you changed into your scrubs. “I still don’t believe he actually asked you that.”

“He did!” She insisted with a chuckle, earning another look of disbelief from you. “Okay, the laugh made it sound like I’m lying, but I promise he did.”

“What exactly was his phrasing? Are you sure he didn’t say it sarcastically, like ‘who would possibly date her’, you know? Was it genuine?” You hated that you even cared to know what his intentions were.

“He just said, ‘Is Lucky seeing anybody?’. Not much tone behind it because he was grumpy, remember?” You tried to hide your blush at the sound of the question you’d been making your friend repeat ever since it was first posed.

You knew there was nothing good that would come from you falling down this rabbit hole of wondering what your attending felt for you, or if he even felt anything, but thanks to your upcoming period, that wasn’t really in your control anymore. Your hormones were spiking thanks to your ovulation, and that meant it was much more difficult to be as level minded as you typically were.

“Are you going to go for it?” Mickey interrupted your hormonal longing, nudging your side. You scoffed once you registered her question, earning a look of amusement from the brunette. “Oh, you’re such a bad liar.”

“I’m not—I haven’t lied. I’m not going to do anything about it because it’s not allowed, remember?”

“Oh, so that’s the only thing stopping you?” She chuckled again as your chief resident paged you both for morning rounds.

“No, it’s not the only thing stopping me. He’s also a whore. He’s probably a walking STD.” You knew that she was buying your disinterest. You weren’t even buying it. “Listen, of course I’ve thought about it. He’s…handsome. And talented. And…have you seen how he is with kids? It’s like he becomes an entirely different man. He’s sweet and caring and…”

Mickey gave you a side eye and a smirk as you realized how much you’d been going on and on about this man you supposedly had no interest in.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mick.” You sighed and hung your head. “I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“About what?” You looked over your shoulder to take in the man in question, surprised by the lack of his typical cocky smirk whenever he talked to you. He looked different, less self-assured, perhaps. His eyes hardly met yours as he joined this morning’s huddle.

“Um, my, uh…”

“Her washer and dryer broke.” Mickey spoke up when you couldn’t, your mind making a mental note to buy her lunch today to thank her.

“Oh? And you’re not going to do anything about that, Lucky?” He chuckled, but even that sounded…off. Not as full of amusement as it normally was. “Sounds like something you should probably do something about.”

“Doctors, is our morning huddle interrupting your conversation?” Your chief resident crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at all three of you, including Dr. Peña.

“It’s my bad, Dr. Thomas. You know how I like to cause a distraction.” He turned away from you to give her a more sincere smile, the action making you feel a bit slighted for some unknown reason.

“Take your residents and go, Dr. Peña.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at him against her will, his trademark charm working its magic on her.

“Alright, kids. You heard the doctor.” He waved his hand and you joined the few residents who had been assigned to his service as they started to follow him down the hall.

“Where are you going?” You looked down at your arm, Dr. Thomas stopping you with her hand.

“I’m on Dr. Peña’s service?”

“No, you’re in the ER according to the chief.” You watched as Mickey stopped in the hall and gestured for you to come along. You sighed and shrugged your shoulders before locking eyes with Dr. Peña. He looked…guilty? Was that it? “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to go down to the pit like I just told you—”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m going.” You sucked up your feelings and turned around, following the lackies of the surgical program down stairs to the Emergency Department.

•••

Javier felt like absolute shit seeing you standing in that hallway looking so…disappointed. How selfish could he be?

It was clear that you had your heart set on neurosurgery, and contrary to what he told the Chief, you really did have a knack for it. But now you were down in the pit with the duds of the program, tending to broken bones and cuts. It wasn’t fair to you to suffer just because he felt ditzy with attraction anytime he was around you.

It seemed like there was no escaping himself now that you were around. You were making him hyper-aware of his faults and flaws, all while looking like that. It was a strange mix of feelings you stirred in him, and those feelings grew more and more unbearable with each passing day.

He wished there was some part of him that could step up and make a decision—do something about it or leave you alone—but either of the choices sounded equally like a bad idea, just another thing for him to regret.

“Alright, good morning, Mr. Levangie. These are my group of surgical residents, one of them will be assisting me on your case.” Javier sighed and exhaled all his personal problems once he walked his small team of residents into this mornings first patient’s room. He was an old man, his body riddled with constant tremors from his late-stage Parkinson’s disease. “Who’s presenting?”

Mickey watched as the nurses helped the man back into bed while Javier scanned his group of residents. With a clearing of her throat, she raised her hand and stepped forward with the chart, Javier giving her a nod.

“Edward Levangie is a 63 year-old man admitted for pain management for dyskinesia. He’s been stable since last night, and is responding well to the Bolus injections.” She looked up at Javier with an intimidated but knowing look, her blue eyes quickly flickering back down to the chart in her hands.

“Dr. Russel, what are the possible treatments?” Javier asked, turning to Michael, Mickey’s sort-of-hookup and the program’s cockiest surgeon.

“For Parkinson’s, um—“

“Not for Parkinson’s, for spinal pain.” Javier turned his eyes back to your closest friend. “Dr. Brown?”

“Uh, an intraspinal catheter. That way he can have a constant flow of pain medication.” He nodded with an impressed look, turning to his patient.

“This is Dr. Brown, she’s going to be assisting me on your procedure, Mr. Levangie.” Turning to the group of residents, Javier nodded and gestured them out of the room.

“Dr. Peña,” Mickey waited behind to walk beside Javier, his neck already burning as he listened to her tone. She was the only person besides Javier that knew about his little crush, and he hoped to god that she’d just pretend he never said anything about it as she began speaking again. “Why’d you take her off Neuro? She’s the best in the program when it comes to this—“

“Dr. Lucky will be just as lucky down in the pit. Besides, any neuro that comes through will be hers for the taking.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke in an almost whisper, speeding up so that he wouldn’t have to be subject to more of this questioning about the thing he so deeply wanted to stop thinking about.

•••

“What do we have?” Dr. Thomas, the chief resident, was running the show down in the pit when a gunshot wound victim came hauled in on a gurney by paramedics. You’d been tending to tiny wounds and “chest pains” for the past 10 hours of your 36-hour shift, your mind far more tired than your body, but both seemed to perk up at the prospect of finally getting a surgical case.

“Um, Juan Medina, 36 years-old. History of kidney failure and diabetes. Took one GSW to the chest and one to the—to the head?” You looked over at the patient who was bloodied and in and out of consciousness, but was completely responsive and very much alive.

“Page Peña and Mann.” Dr. Thomas ordered one of the surgical interns on the same service as you, the young doctor in training running off to the nurses station. You aided the medics in lifting the patient onto the hospital bed in one of the trauma rooms while your chief resident ordered everyone around. “Lucky, push 5 of morphine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You walked around to the IV and injected the five milligrams of morphine into the drip. While you were shuffling about and assisting with the patient’s intake, Dr. Peña walked in along with the head of Cardiology, Dr. Mann. You had yet to work on his service or interact with him much, but taking one look at him you began to wonder how many more attractive and relatively young surgeons were at this hospital.

“Dr. Thomas,” Dr. Mann walked up to your chief resident and took over for her as she packed the gun shot wound at the patients chest. “Who’s your intern?”

“Not an intern, third year. This is—“

“Dr. Lucky.” Peña half smiled as your eyes flickered to his, his quickly dropping as he held up his flashlight to the patient’s eyes. “Mr. Medina, can you follow the light for me?”

“Am I going to die?” The man groaned as he blinked, his brain fighting to stay conscious through the injuries.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to keep you alive, Medina.” You chimed in as you watched the attendings work, Dr. Mann flickering his eyes to yours.

“You’re a third year?” He asked as he raised the side railing of the hospital bed, you following suit as you stood across from him, nodding in confirmation. “You ever scrubbed in on heart surgery?”

“N-no, I’ve mostly done OB and Neuro.” He chuckled and shook his head as he began wheeling the man out of the trauma room, Peña pushing from the top of the bed as the three of you plus your team of nurses walked the patient to the elevator.

“Once you get a taste of Cardio, that’s all you’re gonna want.” He winked at you, your cheeks heating up as you looked ahead to the elevator.

“Well, as luck has it, I’m apparently not a ‘good fit’ for Neuro, so…maybe a change would be nice.” Your eyes flickered to Dr. Peña’s, his jaw clenched and eyes locked on you long before you ever turned to him. He shook his head in the slightest of ways, so slight that anyone not blatantly staring may have missed it, his eyes rolling.

“Well, Dr. Peña, looks like you just lost a fellowship candidate.” Dr. Mann shot his fellow attending a cocky smirk, Javier’s eyes pointed and jaw clenched so tight you began to wonder if his teeth were in danger.

“How about we focus on saving the patient rather than recruitment, Dr. Mann?” The tone Dr. Peña used both stirred you and scared you, your eyes quickly turning to check the patients vital signs just so that you wouldn’t get scolded as well.

•••

Once you get a taste of Cardio, that’s all you’re gonna want…Looks like you just lost a fellowship candidate…

Javier knew his fellow attending much too well at this point to think that he was just offering his mentor services to you. But you seemed to be at least somewhat oblivious to his advances, which eased his jealousy a bit. Still, the last thing Javier needed was a fellow attending—a fellow department head—to come around and break all the rules Javier was so desperately trying to remind himself he had to keep.

The three of them stood at the sink basins in the scrub room, each of them using their soap to scrub away at their hands and arms while the OR nurses prepped and dressed the patient. Dr. Mann was the first to leave, going inside with his hands held up in the air until his team of nurses could gown and glove him.

Javier turned to you as you scrubbed away at you fingernails, his eyes wandering down your forearms to your delicate fingers, your nails painted candy apple red. He found himself imagining what your hands would look like sliding down his chest to the waistline of his scrubs, taking the time to untie them or simply ripping them off so that you could get to where he needed you most.

“Do you have a problem with me, Dr. Peña?” Your sudden words and sharp tone tore him away from his lustful daydream. His eyes widened a bit in surprise and lips parted just the slightest as he took in your anger? Sadness? No, disappointment. That’s what it was.

“Wha—“

“You bully me like a little kid, give me a stupid nickname that now everyone uses, then you kick me off your fucking service because I’m not a good fit? I carried your fucking service the entire time I was on it while everyone else struggled to even intubate for fucks sake.” Javier noticed your self-control, your volume kept at a low and calm level but your words contradicting it. His lips parted further to speak, head slightly shaking in cluelessness as he studied your frustrated resolve.

“You think the nickname I gave you is stupid?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that he should have said literally anything else. You scoffed and shook off the excess water on your arms, ignoring his eyes as you walked behind him to step into the OR. Javier’s eyes closed in frustration as he watched you through the mirror, Dr. Mann’s eyes locked on you as well.

“Fuck this.” He grumbled and rinsed off his arms, joining the two of you in the operating room rather than watching from the sidelines.

“Peña, finally joining us.” Mann called out as Javier got gowned and gloved, his scrub nurse placing his headlamp and magnified glasses over his scrub cap before he could walk over to the patient. “I was just telling Dr. Lucky about my first time…in heart surgery, of course.”

“Lucky her. Scalpel.” He replied blandly, holding his hand out as he got to work. He hoped the adrenaline of surgery would help to drown out his colleague’s flirting, but a part of him knew that was wishful thinking.

•••

“Dr. Lucky, it appears your magic is wearing off on our patient. The bullet missed all of his vital organs. Heart looks good, lungs look good. Just gotta find the bullet and extract it.” You looked further into the chest where Dr. Mann had his fingers buried for the last two hours, the light on his headlamp shining on a bit of metal. “There it is. Forceps.”

“I gotta say,” you watched as the doctor smiled behind his mask and held up the bloodied bullet. “Cardio is nice, but nothing beats looking at the human brain.”

“Oh? Still a nonbeliever? Perhaps I pegged you wrong, doctor.” He dropped the forceps in a metal pan along with the bullet.

“It depends on what you pegged me for.” You shrugged, trying your best not to flirt with the doctor, but he was making it a task with his tone and masked grin.

“Pegged you for someone who liked to have fun. A little fiery. Passionate, perhaps.” He winked at you as he worked on closing the patients chest. Your eyes flickered over to Peña’s for some reason, but he was locked in on his work.

It started to happen again, that attraction to his focus and skill. The cardio-thoracic surgeon in front of you was no doubt good at his job, but he was cocky and talkative—two things that always turned you off in a man. But Dr. Javier Peña was quiet, a bit brooding, perhaps, when he was in the OR. His eyes were laser focused on his work, the high stakes of his field adding onto how impressive he was.

You only wished that he wasn’t a complete asshole to you. Then maybe…

No. The lustful and far too hopeful fantasies had to end. You desperately needed to quit imagining him taking you in some on-call room out of sheer passion and ruining you for all men—the fantasy that had been your favorite as of lately.

“Alright, Dr. Lucky. Looks like we’re done here.” He sewed the last suture and set down his instruments in a metal tray, backing away from the table and tearing off his gown and gloves. You remained by the patient, eyes flickering to Dr. Peña. “Oh, are you going to stay to watch Dr. Peña finish up?”

“If that’s not a problem, sir.” He shrugged and gestured at the neurosurgeon.

“Up to the surgeon. I’m going to go up to the, uh, on call room. Get some rest.” He winked at you again before leaving to scrub out. You breathed in at the pompous proposition, turning your eyes to Peña’s.

“C-could I stay? To watch?” You stepped over to the bin to discard your gown and gloves now that the surgery part of your OR experience was over.

“You can watch from the gallery,” he ended his sentence by using your actual last name rather than his nickname for you, the sound of it making your heart constrict in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I’ll stay out of the way, I just want to be able to see the retrieval process up close—“

“From the gallery, doctor. This is my OR and I decide who stays and goes.” He snapped, lifting his eyes to yours finally, the brown having changed to an unmistakeable black that had you sick to the stomach with intimidation.

“Yes, sir.” You sighed and walked into the scrub room, scrubbing out and fighting back tears as you replayed his tone over and over in your head. It was clear the doctor had it out for you, and if there was any doubt in your mind whether his question about your relationship status was a joke or not, it was now gone.

•••

A few hours after you’d left, Javier finally finished closing the patients skull. He noticed early on that you never went up to the gallery to watch, and he didn’t blame you. He was much too harsh when he told you to leave the OR, but after hearing your obvious flirting with his colleague, he didn’t want to be in your presence a second longer.

That feeling was long gone now.

“Hey…have you seen Lucky?” He approached Mickey as she sat in the cafeteria eating her lunch alone.

“I think she’s napping in the one of the on call rooms.” She replied in a curious tone, Peña nodding and walking away without another word.

His blood boiled and mind raced with images of walking in on you with Dr. Mann, though that surely couldn’t still be happening three hours after your departure from the OR…right?

He whipped open the first on call room with a glare, only to be met by two sleeping nurses he’d slept with before. He quickly closed it before continuing down the hall to the next, whipping it open again and finding Dr. Mann passed out and…alone.

Javier breathed a breath of relief at the sight and closed the door with a loud slam, smirking as he walked down the hall to the final on call room, this time gently cracking it open and seeing your sleeping form curled up on the stiff bunk bed mattress. His lips curled into a soft smile as he stepped inside, shutting the door and locking it behind him just for good measure. Even if the two of you were just going to have a talk, he didn’t want any interruptions.

With a soft but firm voice, he called your name, standing by the door as to not scare you with too much of his presence. He watched your eyes slowly peel open and your head lift from the pillow, groggily taking him in.

“Dr. Peña? I’m on my lunch now, so if you need anything—“

“No, I don’t need…well, I don’t need anything like that.” He chuckled and stepped closer, sitting on the foot of the bed as your eyes fully opened, your mind now aware of the intensity of his presence. Javier knew he looked like a nervous teenager as he turned to you, his lips parting at the sight of you so wide eyed with confusion. “I-I just wanted to tell you why I took you off my service. You deserve to know why, Lucky.”

“Yes, I do.” You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest. Javier wanted to grin at the sight of you attempting to look stern, but knew that wouldn’t be productive.

“I-uh, I asked the chief to take you off, not because I think you’re a bad fit—you’re a great fit, actually. And I’m going to go tell him that after I finish talking to you.”

“So what’s the reason then?” You snapped, your earlier irritation at the man fully returning.

“The reason I didn’t want you around is because…” Javier had never been this nervous to talk to a woman before, and it made him feel sick with anxiety. “Because I guess I have some sort of…attraction to you. It’s stupid, and it was a selfish abuse of power and I’m going to fix it because you don’t deserve that kind of career interference just because I blush everytime you’re around.”

•••

You were absolutely stunned by what you were hearing. It felt like a lucid dream, Peña here in front of you confessing his crush on you? It had to be a dream.

“You’re attracted to me?” You chuckled in disbelief, watching as his face fell a bit at the sound of your amusement. “I’m not a nurse. You know that right?”

“Funny.” He rolled his eyes and stood up, pacing around the room with his hand on his jaw.

“Dr. Peña, are you—“

“Javier. Just call me Javier.” He stopped his pacing and looked down at you with lust blown pupils and a frustrated frown. You sucked in a small and almost unnoticeable gasp at the intensity of his stare, your limbs trembling with nerves as you lifted yourself out of the bunk and onto your feet in front of him. Your mind sounded the “this is a bad idea” alarm as you reached to touch his chest, the firmness not at all surprising. Javier scooped your chin up with his finger, eyes locked on your lips. With a subtle nod, he leaned down, pressing his pout to yours in a soft and testing peck. “Are you sure about this, Lucky?”

“Are you?” You asked as your hands slid up his neck and laced into his dark brown locks, forcing him down against your lips in a more heated kiss. He groaned at the action, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly before his hands started to wander. When he gripped the swell of your ass in his palms, you moaned into the kiss, earning a bite to your lips. “Javier…we can’t let anyone find out about this if we…you know. I don’t want to be looked at like one of your conquests. I’m a surgeon and—“

“You’re not a conquest, this is…you’re more than that.” He breathed against your lips and rested his forehead against yours, your head nodding against his as a silent demand for him not to elaborate any further.

You didn’t need to know what sort of feelings this man had for you because this was a one-off fling. A moment of passion and weakness. It wasn’t going to become some…relationship. It couldn’t.

•••

Javier’s breath hitched as he watched your hands slide down his chest just like he’d been fantasizing about earlier, your red-painted fingernails catching his eye as you took your time in untying his scrub pants.

When he realized he was standing there frozen, he reached for his top, peeling it off his body and tossing it on the mattress while you shucked his pants off. He kicked his shoes to the side and stepped out of his scrubs, letting them pool on the ground as he reached for the hem of your top, peeling it off and letting it lay on the floor with his clothes.

“This is a one time thing,” you breathed out as his lips found your neck, his hands untying your pants and letting them fall to the ground before laying you down on the bunk bed.

“Sure.” He couldn’t be bothered to think about the future of your romance with you underneath him like this, your lips pressing against his collarbone and shoulder as he licked at your pulse. Your hands slid his briefs down just enough to release him, pumping him in your hand as you used your other to slide your underwear to the side, running the bulbous head of his cock up and down your wetness. Javier shivered at the rushed need the two of you shared, desperate to just get right to it due to the time constraint. “Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you spoke breathlessly, looking at him with a look of concern before you started to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” He chuckled along with you.

“We’re doctors. In a hospital. And I’m considering letting you fuck me raw just because I want you that badly right now.” You chuckled again but this time he didn’t reciprocate, his pupils blowing out with lust again as he listened to your words.

“When’s the last time you got tested?” He asked in a whisper, eyes searching yours.

“When I moved here. There hasn’t been anyone…w-what about you?” His cock twitched as you bit your lip, his mind struggling to string together a coherent response.

“Get tested every month. Clean.” He watched as your lips curled up in a mischievous grin, a moan falling from his lips as you lined his tip up with your entrance, guiding him inside. “Fuck. You feel so fucking…so good.”

His eyes never left your face, watching as your eyelids fluttered closed and brows laced together, a soft moan spilling from your kiss-bitten lips once he became fully seated inside of you. Though he was typically proud of his endurance, he knew this wouldn’t be one of the more impressive times. You felt too good.

“You ready?” He asked you, as he began to draw his thick length out, your eyes opening and head quickly nodding in response. Javier felt his entire body cover with chills as he withdrew himself completely before pressing back into you, steady deep and slow strokes following the initial thrust. With each stroke you grew wetter and more open for him, swallowing him as he punched up towards your spongey ceiling.

“Fuck, Javier,” you panted out below him in a whisper, swallowing the moans he could tell you actually wanted to scream. “Now I know why all the nurses are okay with sharing you. You feel so good.”

“Bebita, need you to touch yourself. Help me make you cum,” he purred in your ear as his head dropped into the nook of your neck. He hummed as you used one hand to snake between your bodies, feeling you circling your swelling clit, the other cradling his head and scratching his scalp. His hands held the back of your thighs, pressing them wide and towards your chest as he languidly slid in and out of you.

•••

Your body felt like it was on a different plane of reality as his cock slid so fucking slowly in and out of your heat, rubbing against every single good nerve inside of your canal like it was put on earth just to please. Your hand tugged on his hair to pull his head back, your eyes locking as you felt your high begin to crescendo.

“You there, bebita? I can feel it. So fucking wet. Squeezing me…I can’t take it.” His brows laced together and you came undone from the sound of the strangled moan that fell from his lips after his words. You struggled to keep your eyes open to watch him as your orgasm hit you hard, your entire body floating through the seas of euphoria like it never had before.

A whine slipped from your lips as you felt him slide out of you and rest the weight of his cock on your belly, hot ropes of his cum coating your skin. You lifted your head off the pillow to watch the sight, your walls clenching in an aftershock of desire as you took in the wet head of his almost purple cock.

“Fuck, bebita. I don’t know if I can take this being a one time thing. Now that I know how good you feel, I’m only gonna want you.”

“Easy to say as an attending,” you joked as you pushed him off you lightly, sitting up and walking over to the en-suite bathroom. You could hear him talking about how he would’ve gotten up and done that for you if you’d given him a second, but you really weren’t paying that much attention. You were already too busy thinking about how absolutely fucked you were now.

The foundation of your ability to not fall for his charm was that you imagined him as being unlovable, no good, and probably shit in bed. Now, at least two of those things were proven wrong.

•••

When Javier stepped behind you in the bathroom, he caught your eyes through the mirror, both of your bodies mostly bare but neither set of eyes drifting lower. With a sinking feeling in his stomach at your sudden distanced demeanor, he began to speak.

“If you regret it, that’s fine. We won’t talk about it. But if you don’t—“

“Let’s just not talk about it.” Your interruption took him by surprise.

Never in all of his womanizing days had he experienced this. You were completely unphased by his skill in bed. He struggled to understand how you could be so casual about what just happened when it was almost life changing for him. You’d just shown him what it was like to fuck someone he had feelings for, and now there was no going back for him. He could never mindlessly hookup with a nurse now that he knew what it was like to make love with you.

“You really want this to be just a one time thing?” He asked, not caring about the hurt in his tone. Though you hesitated for a moment, you soon nodded, your eyes dropping their contact through the mirror as you turned to walk past him out of the bathroom. He ticked his jaw to the side as he followed you, getting dressed alongside you in tense silence. “Can I ask why?”

“Why? Because I’m a resident, Dr. Peña. I still have something to prove, and if Thomas or the Chief get a whiff of something happening between us, I get kicked out of the program. My career would be over before it even started.” He felt his chest pang with sympathy for your situation, also feeling guilty for putting you in the position to deal with this in the first place. “That was great, it really was, but…nothing’s worth risking my career for. I’m sorry if that makes you hate me and you take me off your service—“

“What? No,” he shook his head and stepped closer to you, reaching to grab your shoulders. He quickly removed them when he saw your eyes turn to check out the contact. “I’m not going to punish you because you’re choosing your career. It makes me more proud to have a surgeon like you on my team, actually. You don’t have to worry about that.”

•••

“You know, you’re a lot harder to hate once a person gets to know you.” You gave him a half-smile, making the corner of his mouth turn up as well. “I promise this will stay between us.”

“Me too.” He looked down at his pager as it began to beep, cursing as he read it. “911 to the GSW patient. Come on, Lucky. Looks like we’ve got more work to do.”

“You’re keeping me on his case?” You watched as he poked his head into the hallway, checking for it to be clear before he gestured for you to follow him out.

“Thought you wanted to be back on neuro?” He shot you a smile and a wink over his shoulder as the two of you jogged through the halls to the ICU, a blush sweeping over your cheeks at the sight.

Perhaps he was Dr. Daddy after all.

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[shibaraki]

HONEY TRAP ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

tags: suggestive, GN reader, mild descriptions of violence (excessive force + dislocation of shoulder), reader is a vigilante (with unnamed quirk), brief criticisms of hero system and quirk discrimination, sexual tension, strangers (enemies?) to lovers, kissing, morally grey relationship

wc: 2.3k

If it weren’t for the shift in atmosphere, you wouldn’t have ever known he was near. You can feel how the dipole between your bodies pulls taut, a frisson of excitement dipping the length of your spine. There’s an inexplicable magnetism begging to close the distance, an urge you want to indulge in but can’t, lest you have your arms broken three different ways. 

Instead you acknowledge him quietly, a breathless murmur, “Eraserhead”. 

You’ve been trying to bait him for over a week now. The initial embarrassment of it soon dissolved and you’d become admittedly shameless about using his patrol routes, even going as far as replicating his personal ciphers on every villain you apprehended so he would receive credit. He’s a stubborn man, busy too, so you knew you’d have to shorten his wick enough that he felt compelled to deal with you himself. 

“This was all a bit much, don’t you think?” he rasps.

There’s a low drawl to his voice, an air of sarcasm that releases the tension in your shoulders. You’re poised on the rooftops edge overlooking Naruhata, crouched with fingers hooked like talons into the brick wall, ready to leap over to the next building if his patience wore thin. Eraserhead was known for being more lenient on vigilantes than his daylight counterparts, but you also knew he wasn’t one for nonsense or disruption in his work. Both of which you were skilled at. 

At the very least, he didn’t seem angry. Exasperated at most — and you can’t help but to latch onto the slight endearment in his tone. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at,” you reply blithely. 

He huffs, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh, “This one-sided cat and mouse game you’re playing is becoming a nuisance”.

You feel yourself pouting, avoiding his gaze and focusing on the streets below. Illuminated by dim white light, throngs of people stumble home arm in arm, pink cheeked and loose lipped. The night is cold, and you envy the sake warming their veins. 

“Mean,” you murmur, relinquishing some of your inner restraint to cast him a sidelong glance. He’s closer than you thought, standing two feet away with his arms folded across his chest. Despite your vision being adjusted to the darkness he still appears like a shadow. You’re surprised he hasn’t fallen into a defensive stance, nor does he have a hand ready on his capture weapon. 

Egregious yellow goggles pushed up onto his crown, dark hair no longer curtaining his face, this might be the most you’ve truly seen of him. The first time you crossed paths he’d wasted no time in grappling you; the scarf had been around your ankle and violently sweeping you off your feet without preamble. Though you couldn’t blame him, he had found you in a small warehouse full of Trigger after all. 

Eraser readily dislocated your shoulder that day, seating himself on your back to keep you pinned as you explained what you were doing there, ignorant to the pain. Just reconnaissance, just gathering information to hand off to the police anonymously, nothing more. At that point you’d only been participating in vigilantism for half a year, having slowly worked yourself up from good deeds that escalated with each favour. Every fight, every win, every life saved filled your belly until you were drunk with it. 

He didn’t believe a thing you said, but before he could interrogate you any further the yakuza lackeys had returned for the goods. You ran after helping to disarm them and felt the phantom of his weight for weeks. 

Admittedly, you were more than a little intrigued. The way he’d incapacitated you — bowing forward to speak roughly into your ear, his stubble scratching the cartilage as he spoke — still lingered under your bedsheets. By the third meeting he had taken to reminding you of the law. You appreciated that it felt informative, from a place of concern rather than condescension, but you were well aware of the legalities and told him as such. By the fifth he seemed resigned to accepting your tenacity, instead criticising the makeshift armour you wore for protection and asking about your quirk. 

Seeking infrared eyes over the lower half of the Oni mask worn to conceal your identity, you’d curved forward into his space until your chests touched. “You sure want to know a lot about me, don’t you?” 

He didn’t take well to flirting or to sudden contact, you learnt that sooner rather than later. Less that he didn’t like it, more that he didn’t know what to do about it. The broad, stern and scary Eraserhead would tuck his expression away behind his scarf with shoulders hunched to his ears, and your heart would swell. 

You didn’t get to see each other as often as you’d like. A few times a month at most. But with each encounter came the slow acknowledgment of a real, tangible connection between the two of you. He still manhandled you on occasion, amidst the adrenaline. Restrained or pushed aside whenever you got too reckless. Sometimes you bruised and sometimes you didn’t — you would exaggerate the injury regardless, and he would play along knowing it was a lie, just for the excuse to touch you again. 

Last you saw him, the months long build up crested. You’d removed your mask and kissed him, caked in dirt and blood in your teeth. He’s been avoiding you ever since. 

Thus, you turned to drastic measures. 

“This is hardly one sided,” you grin behind the mask and hope he can see it in your squint, “you chased me down in the end, like you always do”. 

“Forced me up here kicking and screaming more like,” he grumbles. The sole of his boots scuff against gravel once he approaches, the soft hair at your nape standing on end. You allow yourself to straddle the border of the roof as Eraser mirrors you, relaxed by his usual demeanour. No cuffs, no anger, no sign of taking you in. Just him, exactly how you wanted. 

“If you keep this up Tsukauchi will have you taken into custody. You've escalated. The villain you intercepted yesterday will never be able to use his right arm again,” he warns. 

Feigning innocence, you shrug under his pointed stare, extending your leg to gently nudge his calf. He doesn’t move away. “Good. Should’ve been both, so he’ll never put his hands on someone without their consent again,” you reply. 

He hums, the sound reverberating over distant drunken laughter. “That’s not your call,” turning his body to observe the group as they stumble past, you think he’s inclined to agree with you, even if he can’t say it.

“Then who’s call is it?” you exhale through the frustration, “sure as shit isn’t the daylights. Patrolling here gets them no coverage”. 

You feel him push back against your foot, rubbing along your ankle. “It’s not your call,” he reiterates, soft but firm with his instruction. “I don’t disagree, and I’ll gladly leave you to it with the excuse of self defence. But I can’t do anything once you’re arrested for using a quirk with intent to cause grievous bodily harm”. 

This is starting to sound frustratingly familiar. “You don’t know that, you’ve never even seen me use it. It could be that I don’t have one at all”. 

That gives him pause. He blinks away the dry irritation, brow pinched with genuine contemplation. “You’re quirkless?” he asks. 

“Would it be a problem for you if I was?” you return sharply, a test of the waters. You liked him, attractive and reluctantly indulgent with you as he was; most of all you enjoyed how different he seemed in comparison to any other hero you knew. Sometimes you could see yourself reflected in him, as if you were both closer to the blurred line than you realised. 

It would be disappointing if he held baseless prejudice. 

But where another might begin to spew insults or back away with uninformed fear, he is so clearly searching for the right thing to say. “Of course it wouldn’t. Obviously you’re more than capable without,” he blinks again as a chill is blown across the roof, sweeping the clouds above along with it and deepening the shadows beneath his eyes. “I’m just curious”. 

You nod, his answer relieving the defensive tension that had slowly wound itself back into your limbs. “You know, centuries ago humans made it to space. They climbed mountains and explored the oceans all without quirks…” a wistful air imbues your rambling, fingers wrung together and fidgeting in what felt like an unusually intimate moment. “I’m not quirkless, but I don’t rely on it all that much. I’m more than just that”. 

The corner of his mouth curves upwards and he regards you tenderly.  “You really are something else,” he mutters, “I wish you’d stop being so careless”.

Drawn towards the warmth in his voice, you stretch across to brace your palms atop the weathered edge, closing the distance. He doesn’t flinch. “Worried that you’d miss me if something happened?” you ask, tilting your head to play coy.

“No,” he says, though it doesn’t hurt, because he’s leaning forward, imperceptibly, just enough that your lungs stutter. “Though I’m sure you would miss causing me problems”. 

“You like it though”.

His jaw shifts, cheeks slightly pink and chill-bitten as he snorts, “Jury’s still out”. 

“Mean,” you quietly repeat, the old brick sharp beneath the pads of your fingers the more pressure you give. The only obstruction now is your mask; you reach behind your head to loosen the strap, letting it fall and hang against your sternum. Left behind is a tight sensation over the bridge of your nose, where the plastic had cut into skin. 

“If not, then why are we still sitting here? Shouldn’t you be putting me in cuffs?” 

“Do you ever stop talking?”

His stare lingers where you wet your lips, still wearing a barely there smile on the end of an amused exhale. You don’t know him all that well — don’t really, truly know the person that he is underneath the hero Eraserhead — but you can gather that he’s a man of few words. The subtle kindling of want in his expression tells you plenty. 

“I guess you’ll just have to shut me up”. 

His fingers are rough along your inner wrist as he idly traces the length of your forearm. You’re still steeped towards him, waiting as he weighs the consequences. If anyone were to peer up at the skyline, they’d find two solid silhouettes turned into one another, teetering on the edge of something more. 

“Any way I can do that without jeopardising my hero licence?” 

“You could be a coward and run off like last—!” 

Your lips part minutely as his nose bumps your cheek, nuzzling gently into the skin. Eraser lingers there, his breath ghosting the exposed curve of your throat, purposefully slow to unwind the spool of heat in your belly. Pressing a barely-there kiss by your mouth, you feel him grin at your sudden silence. 

“Troublesome,” he rasps, hand rising to cup your jawline and keep you from chasing for more. “I don’t think you appreciate what a risk this would be for me”. 

He’s big, warm and calloused; his hands say more about him than he realises. “I do because it’s exactly the same for me,” you sigh. Surrendering to his grip, you turn into the cradle of his palm like a contented cat, peering at him through half lidded eyes. “For all I know you were sent here to seduce me for information. Your charm has already tricked me into revealing my face”. 

“That’s some imagination you’ve got,” his laughter rings in your ears, a low rumbling in his throat that leaves you aching. Eraser angles himself just right, still smirking as your mouths fit together. Any initial hesitance quickly dissipates, the seam of your lips parting to meet his tongue, the hand by your cheek sliding to rest searing against your throat with a thumb pressed to your pulse. Greed swells and you feel insatiable; senses heightened as the breeze passes, strumming your centre of gravity. You fist the fabric of his jumpsuit with a sharp inhale, first steadying yourself on the edge, then feeling the firm muscle behind it. 

Cognisant of your precarious position, he wraps his other arm around your waist and cages you further into his space. You pull away for breath yet still whine his name in complaint — Eraser — and he clucks his tongue before dipping to briefly kiss you again, teasing and with finality. You knew he had to get back to his patrol, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

“Aizawa,” he corrects. When you squint in confusion he adds, “next time call me Aizawa”. 

“Aizawa,” you mumble, rolling the name around your tongue and understanding the weight of what it means to hold it. Next time, he’d said. You watch him get back to his feet with a sense of restlessness, but the trust he’s given you is enough to sate the dissatisfaction. “Is it really alright for you to tell me that?” 

He glances back at you, all teeth as he readies himself to jump over to the next roof, “Why, should I be scared?”

Following his leave you bring your mask up to cover the lower half of your face, and subsequently, your lovesick grin. Just as the clasp is secured at the back of your head, a drunken brawl begins in the narrow alley across the street. In your descent, you can’t help but to laugh at his parting words. 

“If anyone’s the honey trap here, it’s you”.

[misguidedasgardian]

Ok so reader feeling needy for Lloyd and I feel like maybe she is not too confident on asking/telling him what she needs…..how does she get what she needs from ?

Absolutely loving Lloyd!

In light of being recently freed, and to celebrate The grey man premier... let´s do this..

AU MASTERLIST

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of nausea and vomiting, teasing (It´s Lloyd), Sweet Lloyd, (also a warning on himself), shy and pregnant reader... and well, all the fun that comes with this AU

Notes: This belongs in the same AU, but is NOT a direct continuation, just a jump in time, we are still getting a part three as a direct continuation

You woke up in fear, as you did this last few weeks... In fear that you'd get so nauseous you'll vomit all morning... again. Since you found out you were pregnant you had been harrassed by so much morning sickness not even the medicine your doctor got you helped. It had been a hellish first trimester and even if you were barely showing you felt like hell, heavy, sweaty and already uncomfortable. Your back hurt like hell as did your feet, lik at any time you could bend and break your spine.

Lloyd's appetite for you had dwindled since the second week this started… because he could tell how uncomfortable you were, and even though you were grateful he understood and gave you your space, you were starting to get worry, that his desire for you had begun to dissipate. That now that he fulfilled his purpose he wouldn’t want you anymore until he wanted to put another baby inside of you. 

But as you opened both your eyes and looked around, even sat on the bed… you didn’t feel nauseous at all, you felt amazing, good, energetic and like some sort of cloud had dissipated from above you 

You stretched like a cat on the bed on the soft sheets, feeling relieved even though you couldn't claim victory yet….

You heard the shower in the master bedroom so you turned to look at the clock on the nightstand… it was 7:00 in the morning, and you smiled thinking Lloyd hadn't left for the office yet

“Sorry Wifey, did I wake you?” you didn’t answer, you were staring at his naked form. He fixed his short hair back as droplets of water ran down his well toned body, getting lost in the v shape of his groin and down his white towel. You swallowed thickly, feeling a tingling sensation travel down your body. You shook your head, answering him and your eyes not leaving the bulge hidden beneath the thick white cloth

The doctor warned you this might happen, your hormones were going crazy and it was going to be normal for you to jump on your husband, you didn’t think it was going to happen, but here you were, not being able to mutter a word and rubbing your thighs together under the sheets. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked then, you finally looked up to his face and you saw it twisted in what you could only describe as a mocking grin, his eyebrow raised, a side smile.

“Good” you whispered. With wide opened eyes and mouth slightly opened. Were you just noticing right now how handsome he was? Has he ever been this hot? Your eyes trailed down his body once again, and you noticed his hand traveling closely to the end of the towel

“I’m leaving soon honey” he teased, “I'm going to be gone the rest of the day, is there something you may want from me before I leave?”, suddenly your mouth was dry

“Oh mmm, I don’t think so” you managed to say. He chuckled darkly

“Sure? Your pupils are so blown out you look like a cute little kitten” he mocked

“I’m fine” you whispered again, and with a single movement, he released the towel from his hips, letting it pool by his feet. His big cock jumped in attention, the tip red and swollen and you whimpered at the sight 

“You sure?” he asked again, he took some steps towards you and the only thing you could do was moan wantonly, he raised his arm and with one single finger he caressed the apple of your cheek and down your jaw. You fought to look up at his face and not his thick dick, “Why are you so shy? even after all the things we have done” 

“I just…” you couldn't quite finish the sentence, “I’m just am, I guess” he leaned in until his face was just above yours, his breath fanning over your face making you tingle

“What do you want, baby?” you just look at him dumbfounded, cheeks heated 

“Lloyd” you whined, his thumb found your bottom lip and rubbed it teasingly, as his blue eyes got darker by the second

“Talk to me” he demanded, “Tell what you want” you whined, “Don’t be a little brat pumpkin, you had been feeling so poorly lately I didn’t want to bother you, but seems I neglected you”

“You did” you moaned

“So tell me what do you need” 

“You” you demanded, “Just you” you repeated

“I think you may want a more specific part of me” he chuckled darkly, dropping a sloppy open mouth kiss on you, leaving you breathless

“I want all of you” you whispered against his mouth

“That’s so vague” he mocked some more

“Please” you whined, feeling embarrassed

“You need to be a liiiiitle more specific” you could tell he was enjoying it, you being the one wanting

“Lloyd…” you called, and he tilted his head, giving you his complete attention, “I would like to… make love?” you whispered, looking down 

“Is that right?” he teased, “make love? You want me to make love to you?”

“Yes” you muttered slightly 

“You are such a good girl, my sweet” he purred, finally throwing himself on top of you, making ou fall back on the bed with him on top 

He had certainty in the way he ravaged you, getting rid of your pijamas and shits covering so swiftly you understand why he was so good at his job. He never stop kissing you nibbling your lips and you jaw and neck, but he found your mouth again when he swiftly penetrated you in one swift movement. You were so wet you only felt incredibly full, no pain, as you moaned wantonly on his mouth.

“I’ll make love to you as many times as you want” he promised against your mouth, “you give me a baby, so I’ll give you the whole fucking world if you ask so sweetly” he purred. You hug him tightly against you as he kept pounding into you, sensually and roughly, but so delicious, your climax build quickly, and when it exploded you swore you never felt better, so content and like you were floating. He cummed as well releasing his seed deep inside of you.

He released you gently and you already knew what follows, he was going to leave you there, alone.

To your surprise… he didn’t, he fell on the bed right next to you. And held you tightly against him, his hand stopped in your belly.

“You are showing a little” he whispered, he smiled softly at you, like he had never done before and your chest filled with warmth and love. He kissed your forehead gently, and then he scoop you in his strong arms and cuddled with you on the bed

“You are going to be late” you warned, not even wanting to let go of him

“What are they going to do?” he chuckled, “I want to stay here on bed with my baby momma” 

Taglist! <3

@phildunphyisadilf @lifeissomethingelse @black-repunzel99 @momobaby227 @siriusjohnpotter @l0st-in-reality @taytayvb1020 @chris-butt @aubageddon91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @patzammit @mooievis @cecegreen

[an-evergreen-rose]

When Worlds Collide Part 2

PART ONE | PART THREE

 Kate Bishop x Female Spiderwoman reader (basically has Miles powers; invisibility, electric webs)

Summary: You find yourself in Kate's apartment

Warnings: like one swear word if that even counts idk

A/N: Guys, keep giving me praise. I LOVE IT.

“So, the bedroom is just through there,” Kate said, pointing to the door down the hall “And feel free to take a shower, the bathroom is the one on the right… I can kinda smell the bin juice from here.”

“Ouch, Kate. You are ruthless,” You replied, hand grasping over your heart at her words. But all jokes aside, you did stink, so you happily took up the offer.

Once you finally figured out how the shower actually worked, glad to know that it wasn’t just your universe with the shower dilemma, you let the warm water wash away all remains of the dreaded bins, applying a generous amount of Kate's body wash, pleasantly surprised by the smell. After cleaning your hair and rinsing off all the soap, you reached for the towel on the rack, humming in contempt at how warm it was. Midway through drying yourself, you realised that you had no other clothes with you apart from your suit. Now it would be pretty stupid to wash and then get back into the bin juice-soaked suit straight after.

Wrapping the towel around yourself, your shoulder-length hair dripping slightly on the floor, you exited the bathroom, finding the raven-haired girl sitting in front of the tv with lucky resting on her lap.

“Hey, Robin Hood, do you think maybe I could borrow some clothes?”

Kate was startled, to say the least. First, she didn't even hear you leave the bathroom, and next thing she knows, you stood leaning against the wall in nothing but a towel. Fucking hell, Kate, get it together.

“Uh, sure, yeah. You can take some out of my drawers in the bedroom.” 

“Thank you, Kate,” You replied, amused by her pink cheeks. “Could I also use your washing machine? My suit kinda smells.”

Kate nodded, getting up off the couch. “Yep.” She said quickly, taking you to the small laundry room allowing you to shove your clothes in with hers. Now you would definitely smell like her.

With a small smile of appreciation, you headed into the archer's bedroom in search of some clothes to wear. Your cheeks heated up when you realised you would have to borrow some of the girl's underwear too, as yours were getting washed along with your suit.

Luckily, you guys were around the same size, the only difference was that Kate was a couple of inches taller, so finding clothes that fitted was easy enough, besides the fact that you looked a little drowned in the longer garments. You took an educated guess into thinking that Kate's favourite colour was purple, after seeing her in her purple suit and now her drawers filled with other purple items of clothing. You settled on some purple sweats and a light grey hoodie, quickly putting on some socks before you left the room in search of the raven-haired girl again.

When you left the room you jumped a little seeing her standing right outside the door, her arm raised as if she was about to knock. She looked at you with wide eyes as she took in what you were wearing. All her clothes. Of course, Kate knew you were going to borrow some, she just didn't realise how much she would enjoy seeing you in them.

“Sorry,” Kate rushed out, embarrassed at how she had to snap out of her little trance. “I was just about to head into the shower but then I realised that I didn’t have any clothes to wear because they’re all in here… where you are. I was about to knock but… you opened the door before-”

You decided to cut Kate off on her obvious nervous ramble, “No worries, sorry to keep you waiting,” you smiled, stepping out of the doorway, letting Kate into the room.

“I, um, I ordered some pizza for us,” Kate said in a small voice, still a little embarrassed from her tangent. “There’s some money on the bench for when it comes, just in case I’m still in the shower.”

You thanked her with a smile as you walked towards her couch, taking her spot next to lucky as she grabbed some clothes from her room. 

She wouldn’t tell you that you grabbed her favourite sweats, mostly because she loved the way you looked in them. She definitely wasn’t expecting to feel this kind of way about you, but she couldn’t deny that you were good-looking. From when she saw you in your suit, the way it hugged your curves, and when you took off your mask, your hair a little messy and your face a little flushed from walking in the cold streets of New York only moments before. And god, when you walked out in that towel, and you looked so vulnerable… so much skin showing, all for Kate. 

Kate's shower was a little colder than usual, given the circumstance of you being on her mind. She knew it was wrong to think like this, having only known you for about an hour, but Kate was known for being a little unexpected. And falling for a girl who literally fell out of the sky is not out of the question for the archer. She grew up getting whatever she wanted. And she was beginning to think she wants you.

But that's getting a little ahead of ourselves.

She heard the front door open, and a small conversation between you and the pizza delivery person was muffled by the bathroom door. Deciding she had spent enough time in the water, she turned it off, drying and dressing before leaving the bathroom, finding you sat on the floor, crossed-legged, your back resting on the couch with a comically large slice of pizza in your hands.

Kate smiled when she saw you again in her clothes, sitting in the chair next to the sofa you rested on, “How’s the pizza?”

“Delicious,” you replied, mouth full of pizza making Kate scrunch her nose with a laugh. 

“Glad to hear it, Y/n,” Kate replied, reaching over to grab herself a slice. 

After the pizza and some small conversation regarding the shitty movie that was playing on the tv, Kate let you sleep in her bed for the night, insisting she was more than happy to have the couch. You protested of course, but you found out just how stubborn the raven-haired girl was as you ended up wrapped up in her soft sheets, basically falling to sleep straight away considering the day you’ve had. Once again, being consumed in more of Kate's scent. First, her body washes and shampoos, then her clothes, and now her bed. You were starting to think it was your new favourite smell.

I basically just tagged everyone who commented on part 1, let me know if you wanna be tagged

almosttoogay2function luminaaz thelonewriter24 redkaddict angel09172000 kassies-take

[mgparker]

Hey! So I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I have an oddly specific one ? So it’s tams!xreader and the reader is from MCU but in tasm! Universe she was peters girlfriend that he couldn’t save and when he comes into the MCU he’s like weird around her and she’s getting frustrated because he won’t talk to her and she’s basically saying “this plan won’t work if you won’t talk to me! What’s your problem with me?” And my brain keeps imagining that scene in greys anatomy where Alex is yelling at Izzy that “you freakin died in my arms…I’m scared to move, I’m scared to breath, I’m scared to touch you” anyways, I’m not that creative but it’s a maladaptive daydream that I haven’t been able to completely put together in my head but I love your writing and I was wondering if you could put it into words for me? ❤️❤️❤️ I know it’s weirdly specific so no worries if you don’t wanna !

the way this request filled me with absolute joy:,)))

i love hearing from you guys and i am definitely taking requests!!!! thank you so much for this, i hope this fulfills your expectations <33

also: i have an unhealthy obsession with grey’s anatomy so this just hit the spot

scared to breathe

[tasm!peter parker x f!reader]

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

summary: seeing you again was too much for peter, so much so that shutting you out seemed like the only thing he could do.

warnings: NWH SPOILERS, angst so much angst, bitter!peter, some swearing, mentions of death, intense grey’s anatomy references, anon request <33

Frustrated, you slammed your book shut, scaring both Ned and his Lola. You gave them an apologetic glance, running your fingers through your hair anxiously.

“He’s taking too long,” you determined, chewing on your bottom lip and honestly feeling two seconds away from opening the damn magical box your friend had left you with.

Ned tried to get a word in, but MJ beat him to the punch. “I agree,” she said firmly, reaching down to grab the Machina.

It had already been too long, nothing on the TV broadcasting any Spider-Man related news but the radio silence was enough to worry all three of Peter Parker’s friends. Doctor Strange’s box rested by MJ’s feet, ready to be opened if Peter didn’t show up in the next two seconds.

“Guys, no,” Ned protested, waving his hands around as if to dissuade MJ. “He said he’d be here. It’ll be okay.”

But even Ned couldn’t convince himself.

The three of you sat at the table, silence filling the void. The air practically reeked of anxiety and it only took a second longer before Ned was nervously rambling once more.

“I just wish we could see him!” He exclaimed in exasperation.

A glimpse of molten orange caught your attention and beside you, MJ had perked up as well. “Ned, do that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing you did with your arms and repeat what you said,” you clarified, fascinated by the sparks that had mysteriously appeared in the living room. Though it seemed Ned had no idea what was going on still.

“I just wish we could see him,” he repeated in the same fashion, circling his arms uncertainly.

Again, the sparks appeared in the room, taking the shape of a perfect circle, spinning with a stunning vibrancy. But it wasn’t the color that shocked you the most— it was what the circle held.

A portal— leading straight into a deserted alleyway. And on the other side, the silhouette of Spider-Man turned toward you.

“That’s him!” MJ exclaimed, frantically waving him over. Ned joined in, hollering at the top of his lungs.

“Peter! Peter!”

It took you a moment to kickstart into action, staring at the suited figure with uncertainty. There was something strange about Peter. You knew that MJ and Ned could tell too, but their relief was blinding them.

In the next moment, several things happened.

First, Spider-Man jumped through the portal swiftly, landing with a light thud and causing Ned’s Lola to scream at his unfamiliar figure.

Second, when he ripped his mask off, the handsome man staring back at you was definitely not Peter Parker. Not only did he look completely different, but he was also staring at you with such intensity that you almost couldn’t bear it.

Uncomfortable under his gaze, you were desperate to know who the imposter was. “Who the hell are you?”

Instantly, he sort of… flinched? As if you had taken a knife and plunged it into his stomach. The watery look in his eyes confused everyone in the room.

“I’m Peter…” he hoped your eyes would flash with recognition but there was nothing. “…Parker. In my world. But then yesterday I was just… here.”

“Right,” MJ gave him a suspicious look, keeping a close eye on ‘Peter’ as he began to wander the space.

“String theory, multidimensional reality, and matter displacement? All real?”

“Yeah…” All three of you answered hesitantly. Then, you all huddled together, exchanging harsh whispers about the stranger standing mere feet away from you.

Meanwhile, Peter Parker was absolutely sure he’d broke into a cold sweat, feeling the perspiration along his hairline. He wasn’t stupid— when he’d first arrived, Peter was one hundred percent positive that he had found himself in a universe that was certainly not his own. Seeing the teenage Peter Parker plastered all over the newspapers of NYC was enough to confirm it—because this universe’s Peter looked nothing like him.

Along with that, he knew that there must’ve been different versions of all the people on his earth, including you.

It was just that, he didn’t expect this version to be a literal doppelganger of the late girlfriend.

So, Peter didn’t know how to act, viciously fighting the impulse to cross the room and hold you like his life depended on it. Clearly, you didn’t know him at all. You only knew the Peter Parker from your world.

You weren’t her.

Even if your hair was styled in its usual fashion. Even if your eyes held that same glimmer they always used to. Even if every single inch of your being was the exact same as he remembered.

God he never thought he’d see you alive again. And it was killing him, keeping him rooted to the spot and looking like a fish out of water. Mouth agape and eyes stuck in a wide trance.

“This is Ned,” you gestured over to the boy who smiled and gave Peter an enthusiastic wave.

“MJ,” you continued, watching as MJ sort of grimaced and waved with much less enthusiasm.

And then you introduced yourself, warmly smiling at the man and extending a polite hand.

Only that smile was instantly wiped off your face when Peter blatantly ignored it, a complete contrast to the warm greetings he’d given your friends.

His cold behavior set off an alarm in MJ’s head, leading her to bring her arms up defensively. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you’re Peter Parker.”

“Oh, I don’t really carry an ID with me. Kinda defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

With a little extra strength than needed, you chucked a bread roll at him, instantly feeling your humiliation from earlier fade away as it thumped his chest roughly. The fact that MJ had also thrown some bread almost made you laugh in his face but you kept your defenses strong.

Making a point to avoid your glare, the Spider dude looked down at the discarded roll. “Why’d you do that?”

“Trying to see if you have the tingle thing,” MJ told him, raising her arms even higher.

“I have the tingle thing,” Peter confirmed. “Just not for bread.”

“I call bullshit,” you whispered to Ned, nudging his arm.

Between MJ’s efforts and yours, Peter finally proved that he indeed possessed spider-like abilities, confirming his identity and leading Ned to create another portal in order to find the “real Peter Parker.”

Only, the man who stepped through the next circle wasn’t your teenage Peter Parker at all…

This Peter was older, eyes full of wisdom and a casual demeanor that would never lead you to guess his secret identity. “It’s just a regular dude,” Ned said in relief, glad that it wasn’t some sort of rogue Spider-Man.

Still, you stayed on edge. “Hello,” he waved awkwardly. “Hope it’s okay, I just came through this—”

The portal spun shut, leaving him emptyhanded as he turned to gesture at nothing but air. “—Oh, it just closed.”

“You’re Peter?” You tried cutting to the chase, worried about your Peter and slightly irritated by the standoffish one standing behind you.

The man furrowed his eyebrows, still confused by the portal. “Yeah, Peter Parker. I’ve seen you three— oh, hi.”

Ned’s Lola had given him a flirtatious wave, smiling mischievously from her place by the stairs.

“Wait,” he finally caught sight of the suited man behind you. “He’s not your friend…”

Chaos ensued, the new Peter Parker shooting a web towards the suited one. In a split second, you were pushed out of the way, dragged out of the crossfire at a remarkable speed before you could realize what was going on. Webs shot back and forth, the two men leaping towards the ceiling and then back down again in a series of mirrored movements. Then the fight was over when the casually dressed Parker webbed the other’s hand down to the kitchen island.

All of you waited with bated breath until the suited Peter smiled, clearly impressed with the quality of his counterpart’s web. “So you’re Spider-Man too?” Ned asked exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I generally don’t go around advertising it,” the new arrival shrugged. “Kinda defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

“I just said that—”

“—He just said that,” you said in sync with another voice.

Looking over at suited Peter, you watched as he cleared his throat, bringing his eyes over to the wall slightly over your head before looking away just as quickly. Seriously, what was his deal? Did you smell or something?

���My Lola is asking if you could just clean up the webs you threw at each other,” Ned translated after his grandmother finished saying something directed at the normally dressed Peter.

“Yes, of course,” he smiled kindly, turning to grab the sticky substance by his foot.

You tried to keep yourself calm and collected. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday, I think,” this Peter responded, placing the glob of web into your outstretched hand. “Um, this may seem kind of weird, but I’ve been trying to find your friend ever since I got here. I just have this sense that he needs my help.”

“Our help.” The other Peter added, nodding as if he had been feeling the same thing.

You tried your best to keep your attention focused on the conversation at hand, but you were trying hard not to throw up as you crouched behind the kitchen counter, peeling the extremely sticky web from your palms. It was embarrassing—you should’ve known that taking the web from Peter was stupid. Your many experiences helping your Peter make web should’ve told you that the substance would be difficult to get off your hands.

“Gross, gross, gross,” you whispered, finally tossing the glob into the trash bin. “Ugh!”

The two Peter Parkers heard you clearly, their enhanced senses catching onto your disgusted mumbles and disgruntled shuffles from behind the counter. The older Peter fought an amused smile, listening to MJ as she brainstormed where her boyfriend could be.

“I know where he is,” she concluded, catching your eye from across the room.

That’s how you found yourself arriving at Midtown High School’s rooftop via portal. Thankfully, Ned was able to conjure a direct passage purely with his natural talent for the mystic arts. You were slightly jealous of his skills honestly…

Introducing the two Peters to your universe’s Peter was a bit…rocky. Between your Peter’s defensive nature and the other two telling stories that couldn’t have been easy to share in front of an audience, the night was slowly progressing into even more of a shitshow.

You didn’t think much of it—as the suited Peter shared his story about how he had lost his “MJ” not too long ago. Of course you listened with a heartfelt empathy towards the man, despite his adamant intention to ignore your existence (unlike his behavior toward your other two friends whom he’d lightly conversed with between the whole portal incident and now). You had a big heart, everyone who knew you was certain of it, so you couldn’t help but feel his pain as he lamented on his actions ever since his girlfriend’s death.

“…I just stopped pulling my punches. And for some time, I got rageful. I got bitter… I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

Your Peter’s eyes were filled with tears, his gaze catching yours, then MJ’s and then Ned’s. Even shadowed by the darkness of the night sky, you could see in his eyes that his trust had extended to the two Spider-Men.

……………………………………….

“Here’s the deal,” you started once everyone was settled in Midtown High’s laboratory, taking up your usual mantle as team leader.

God knows that Peter was not the best at plan-making (despite being the one to ultimately carry out the task as Spider-Man). Peter Parker was undoubtedly smart—probably the smartest person you knew—but between creating a plan and executing it…. Well, let’s just say something always got lost in translation. Thankfully though, he had your mastermind.

You continued. “We gotta finish these cures in the next hour or so. Who knows how much havoc these villains will wreak upon this city if we wait any longer. What are we going to do about the Goblin?”

“I think I can make an anti-serum for Dr. Osborn. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time…” The older Peter caught the gaze of teenage Peter, who was still destroyed over the death of his aunt. “Gotta cure all of them, right?”

“Right,” your Peter agreed distantly.

“That’s what we do.” With that, the older Peter nodded in your direction, walking off to a separate station to get to work.

Wide-eyed from how fast the older Peter got to work (you couldn’t begin to explain how hard it was to get Peter and Ned on task usually), you moved on, shifting your gaze back over to the whiteboard you’d been writing on. “Peter—” your Peter raised his hand sheepishly. “—can handle Marko and Dillon but Connors—”

“—I’ve got Connors. I’ve already cured him once, it’s no big deal.”

You turned to look at Peter, the one who had arrived with the suit on.

He was a strange guy, that’s all you could really say about him. Throughout the night, you’d caught him staring at you with a conflicted look, tears lining his eyes and his fists clenched at his sides. As soon as he’d catch you staring back, his eyes would snap away, though his chest still rose aggressively as if the sight of you caused him to hyperventilate. It was confusing to say the least.

“…Okay,” you trailed, watching as he snatched the vial from your hand, as if touching you would give him a literal disease. Quickly, Peter shuffled to his own station, cracking a small joke to the older Peter as he passed, which irritated you a bit.

Honestly, you weren’t even sure why he was getting under your skin. You were usually so collected and kind and welcoming towards others…

Maybe that’s the reason you were frustrated—the fact that people usually took an instant liking to you… And you didn’t mean it in a self-absorbed way, it was just that you always made the effort to make those around you feel at ease, comfortable.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why this Peter Parker was avoiding you like the plague.

“Well, let’s get started!” MJ pumped her fists awkwardly, trying to deflect from the obvious situation between you and the new Peter.

……………………………………..

For the next half hour or so, you’d been wandering between stations, feeling the desire to help in anyway. You hated feeling useless and though you probably should’ve just sat down and stayed out of the way, you still hovered.

Luckily, the older Peter didn’t really mind, explaining his anti-serum to you with genuine enthusiasm which you appreciated.

A few tables over, Peter heard your gentle laughs mixed along with the older Peter’s. Shaking it off, he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, his hands shaking as he combined some ingredients together. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to distract himself; everything reminded him of you—down to the very cure he was concocting (his version of you had helped him create it years back).

Your laugh was like music to his ears, filling his heart with immeasurable joy before his mind squashed it with the impending realization that you weren’t his you. That no matter what, he had to continue to live without you and that realization hurt him as much as your death.

Your approaching figure caused Peter to panic, the tremor in his hand knocking the vial over. Witnessing the disaster about to unfold, you lunged forward, wrapping your fingers around the tipping glass and setting it upright.

Frozen, Peter stared at your hands, his own supernatural reflexes failing him as he panicked in your presence.

In a way, he felt absolutely horrible for ignoring you. In reality, all he truly wanted to do was wrap you in his arms and kiss you until your lips were numb. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But the thought of losing you twice was too scary… so he did the only thing he could do.

Distanced himself so that you couldn’t wiggle your way into his heart even deeper.

“Thanks,” Peter finally mumbled, remembering that you were standing there expectantly.

Your heart plummeting from his seeming lack of compassion, you cleared your throat, shifting from foot to foot. “No worries.”

He didn’t look up, continuing as if you weren’t there. If he had looked up, you would’ve seen the mournful gleam in his eye.

“An easy fix?” You knew you should’ve just given up; it would’ve saved you from further embarrassment and irritation, but you hated that your presence made him visibly uncomfortable. You were desperate to get to the bottom of it.

Peter kept his head ducked, the tremor in his hands still disrupting his work but he was pushing through it. “Pretty easy, yeah. Just need a few more things though.”

Without waiting for a response, Peter flew away from his station, heading toward the supply closet in the hallway.

Just leave him alone, you thought. But then you realized that the plan wouldn’t go smoothly if he didn’t fully cooperate with you. That thought sent you rushing after him, ignoring the glances from everyone else in the room.

Inside the closet, Peter could hear your hasty footsteps heading in his direction and he tried to prepare himself, knowing that you were insanely stubborn and you’d get something out of him one way or another.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” you started, closing the door gently behind you. “But I need to know that you’ll be clear-headed out there tonight. Otherwise, this whole thing might go down the drain.”

Silence.

You tried once more. “I usually cook up the plan around here. It’s kinda my thing in the group and, you know, I have a really good feeling about this one but I just don’t know if you’re completely on board.”

Standing there with that stupid lab coat (that honestly made him look ten times hotter), his lack of response was making you feel like a complete idiot.

A red, hot fury soared to your head before you could stop it. “This plan won’t work unless you talk to me!”

Still, he wouldn’t meet your eye, clearing his throat and continuing to rummage around the supplies as if he had only heard the buzz of a fly.

“What is your problem? You don’t even know me!” It came out more aggressive than you intended. You weren’t usually the type to act out emotionally, but it wasn’t fair that this Peter Parker seemed to make the instant decision to hate you as soon as he stepped through that portal.

You felt the sting of tears pooling in your eyes and you angrily wiped them away before they could even fall. You absolutely hated that your body’s natural response to intense frustration was tears. Like, what was crying supposed to do? Absolutely nothing.

In the midst of all this, you failed to realize that Peter froze. With bated breath, you waited for him to say something, to move…anything.

“I don’t even know you?” His voice was bitter, full of deep and raw pain. You could hear it clearly and it confused you. “God, it would be easier that way, wouldn’t it?”

You racked your brain, trying to think of anything you might’ve done to make him so resentful towards you. Maybe you stepped on his shoe? Slammed a door on his hand without realizing? Honestly, what the fuck could it be—?

“I knew you,” he nodded, keeping his back towards you—something that was irritating you more and more as the seconds ticked by.

Maybe you should’ve waited for him to continue but you couldn’t help it. “Okay, good,” you crossed your arms defiantly. “Then what’s up? Was I mean to you or something?”

“Mean,” he repeated, chuckling humorlessly. Okay. Now he was starting to piss you off.

“God, I’m sorry for whatever the other me did to you but I don’t understand what you’re so afraid or scared of—”

“You died!” His sudden outburst startled you. The crack in his voice bounced off the walls of the closet, hitting you deep in the chest. “You died.”

Immediately, you had no idea what to do with those words. You froze, your chest falling flat from the lack of oxygen in your lungs. You died?

Staring at his shaking figure, you realized your death must’ve done quite a number on him. A flood of guilt washed over you—you were reading into this all wrong. He wasn’t angry at you or resentful towards you—he was genuinely afraid. Down to his very core, you could tell.

Wait—when he was talking about his MJ earlier on the rooftop… was he talking about you?

Flabbergasted, you tried to regain your composure, spluttering some odd syllables in an attempt to form a sentence, or heck, even a word. But he wasn’t done, his body slowly spinning around to face yours. “You died in my arms… You want to know what I’m scared of? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared to move. I’m scared to breathe. I’m scared to touch you.”

The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees lower, goosebumps rising along your arms as you stared at the handsome man before you. There he was, a complete stranger to you, but to him, you were anything but.

“I’m—I’m sorry—”

“I can’t lose you again. I won’t survive. So I can’t let you in. I can’t.”

Through his eyes, Peter watched you fidget with your bracelets nervously, eyes darting everywhere as you tried to contain your feelings. It was familiar— watching you bottle everything up. Something he’d always correct you on back when you were alive and in his arms.

Your likeliness to her was remarkable—it was like he was stuck in an extraordinarily vivid dream, staring at his heart’s one desire— breathing with pumping blood under your skin. Because the last time he’d seen you in real life, your body was cold, and your skin lacked its usual glow.

The pale sheen that had colored your complexion as you laid there dead in his arms all those months ago haunted him every night.

So, standing here seeing you again when that was the one thing he’d wanted since that night was excruciating. His throat burned from holding back his grief-stricken sobs, his legs wobbled from the effort of holding up his stunned body (when all he wanted to do was fall into your arms and never leave them again), his eyes stung from holding back tears and his lips ached because they longed to touch yours. To seek the comfort only your lips could bring; it was like muscle memory.

“It’s easier this way, Y/N.”

“No,” you protested, surprising yourself and Peter. “It isn’t easier this way. Because in order for all of this to be over, we need to work as a team… and��and you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. It isn’t healthy.”

His eyes were still stubbornly trained to the ground.

“Peter—”

He recoiled from your touch and you instantly drew your hand back, feeling guilty for overstepping.

The sound of his name leaving your lips was blissful, though you didn’t know it. Hell, anything that left your lips sounded heavenly to Peter. But your touch was too sudden—his arm seemed to burn from the contact and though his heart wanted you to touch him again, his brain was too overwhelmed.

It was like he said: Peter couldn’t move around you. Or breathe. Or touch you. Or even look at you in the eye.

He knew that once he did that, he’d be absolutely fucked. Because it would be impossible to go on living his life knowing you’re out there, alive and still full of that same compassion he’d always envied.

“Look at me,” you tried, heart racing as you began to feel desperate. “Peter, please.”

“I can’t do this,” he denied, shaking his head and hastily grabbing the material he needed then making his exit. “I can’t.”

With that, he left you alone in the supply closet, your heart feeling strained and lungs starving for air.

………………………………………

After your confrontation (which the other Peters heard, you were sure of it) in the supply closet, Peter seemed a bit more cooperative, offering you full sentence responses whenever you directed something at him. Still, he didn’t quite look you in the eye.

But nevertheless, the plan was set in stone, your Peter leaving first to call the Daily Bugle and expose his location to the other villains. Then the other two followed, fully suited up and equipped with the cures.

Originally, the idea was that you’d stay in the lab waiting for Peter’s signal to close up the portal. It was a good plan with little room for error but of course life didn’t work that way.

Under the intense pressure of the mission, Ned found himself unable to close the portal, though you made sure to make him feel good about opening it in the first place. You reminded him that he was a natural and the praise seemed to be working… but not quick enough. Because the Lizard caught sight of the box in MJ’s grasp, diving through the portal and knocking all three of you out of the way.

“Shoot!” You yelled, scrambling to your feet and trying to make sense of the situation. Several feet away, you spotted your friends, both of them sprinting away from the chaos between Spider-Man and Connors.

“Go!” Spider-Man yelled. You quickly realized from the tone of his voice that it was your Peter and you hesitated for a moment, your feet failing you as you tried to glance back at the fight. You tumbled toward the ground again, slicing your palms and knees on the broken pieces of wood from the shattered tables. “Y/N, I’m serious!”

“I know, I know,” you exclaimed, recovering as quickly as possible and jumping through the portal. “Jeez!”

At this point, MJ and Ned were levels away from you, your fall delaying you by a good minute. Inwardly, you cursed your lack of coordination. “MJ! Ned! You guys good?!” You hollered, pushing your legs as fast as you could down the steps.

Your voice caused Peter to whip around, frantically searching for you in the chaos. What were you doing here? You were supposed to be in the lab where it was safe—

Oh—oh. Not safe. Definitely not safe, he thought as he swung over and saw the younger Peter engaged in combat right in the smack dab middle of Ned’s Midtown portal.

Quickly, Peter searched for you again, swinging along the side of the statue for a glimpse at your figure. Finally, he spotted you… but not in the state he was expecting.

In all honesty, one could say you looked peaceful. Your eyes were closed and the scream that had escaped your mouth was long since gone.

But to Peter, the sight was his worst nightmare all over again. The ringing in his ears muted him to his own desperate scream—a scream of your name. And then his body finally jumped into action, the disconnection between his brain and his limbs vanishing as soon as he determined he wouldn’t let history repeat itself.

Faster and faster, you fell from the Statue of Liberty, at the hand of the Green Goblin who’d pushed you off the edge with nothing but malicious malintent and a horrendous cackle to fill the air of the night.

Knowing your Peter was busy fighting off the other villains and the other Peters were likely doing the same, you’d accepted your death as soon as you went tumbling off the side of the monument. Closing your eyes seemed to make it easier—it almost felt like you were freefalling from a cliff, surrounded by your friends on a sunny seaside vacation. At least that’s what you told yourself anyway.

It made your landing a softer pill to swallow.

Water, it’ll be like landing in refreshing water after a thrilling dive.

If your eyes were open, you would’ve seen your Peter’s desperate efforts to save you, his attempt thwarted by the very same villain who’d caused your fall in the first place. And then you would’ve seen the person you least expected to come to your aid— the Spider-Man who you believed wanted nothing more than to obliterate any trace of you from his life.

Even when he had explained it to you in that supply closet, it seemed you didn’t understand the true depth of his conflict and love for you.

Peter knew he was getting closer to you, but it seemed like he wasn’t falling fast enough, your body horribly getting closer and closer to the ground. A chunk of railing flew in his path, debris from the fight overhead but he didn’t let it deter him, diving past it and miraculously getting close enough to grab your hand.

Shocked by the contact, your eyes flew open and you jolted in midair as you finally met Peter Parker’s hazel eyes. Your peace was suddenly destroyed as you saw the top of the Statue of Liberty growing smaller from behind Peter’s figure, your vision of cliff-diving obliterated in a fit of panic.

But before you could make a sound, Peter wrapped his body around yours, arms going around your torso firmly and your legs wrapping around him tightly. Before you could blink, you were on the sweet, sweet ground. Albeit in Peter’s arms but still, back on the ground.

It seemed like the dam had finally been broken in many ways—you were closer to Peter than you’d ever been before, wrapped in his arms and grasping his neck tightly, and his tears were finally flowing down his flushed cheeks.

Heart pounding from the adrenaline, you tried to say something… anything. “Are you okay?”

Feeling his heart connect with yours once more, Peter looked down and into your eyes. “Yeah.” And he finally meant it. “Are you?”

“Never been better,” you smiled tightly, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck and jumping out of his arms swiftly. “Thanks for that. I thought I was a goner.”

Peter gulped, licking his lips nervously. “Listen, I-I—”

“Peter Three!” The older Peter called from the top of the monument, engaged in an intense battle with the Goblin.

But Peter didn’t look up, his gaze stuck on yours as if they were locked forever now.

You knew that they needed Spider-Man’s help. Pushing his chest gently, deciding that all boundaries were torn down now, you snapped him out of it. “Go, Peter. You can tell me when you get back.”

“Okay,” he breathed, the ghost of a smile on his face as he felt his heart slowly start to mend itself back together for the first time since your death.

Maybe letting you back in wasn’t so bad after all. It wasn’t like he could fall for you anymore than he already had—he was sure if he loved you any more than he still did, he’d have to go seek some sort of help because feeling so intensely toward someone had to be dangerous.

Now, you finally understood why he’d been pushing you away so hard. Because you saw the love in his eyes when they finally met yours. The sheer intensity of the pain that came with loving you was the sole reason for his detachment, which you had foolishly mistaken as anger and hatred.

“Okay, Bugboy.”

His genuine laugh was the last thing you heard before the Amazing Spider-Man swung away, swiftly disappearing into the night and leaving you with a warm feeling in your stomach.

.

.

.

hi!!!! sorry this was honestly a little out of character!! i tried to play around with the more bitter (grieving) side of tasm!peter that they briefly introduced in no way home. if you’d like a part two, pls let me know!!

i am indeed accepting requests as i write chapter two of contingency! im in a bit of a writer’s block for that specific series :/

also does anyone know how to add borders on tumblr posts (instead of me adding a bunch of periods)??

check out my masterlist here!!

requests are open!!

— elle <33

tasm!peter parker taglist:

@lemur46 @utterly-in-like

[urvenicebtch]

Stay A While?

-----pairing: neighbour!Bucky x reader

Summary: Living with your family in Brooklyn, a few years prior a man named Bucky moved back home and in next door to you. He lived alone and had no family besides his friend Sam’s family but as they lived quite a distance away, he would spend holidays and events with you and your family. You had always found him attractive and would spend almost all of your free time over at his place. It was summer vacation and your family was taking a vacation to visit relatives but you chose to stay behind… and alone with one James Buchanan Barnes.

A/N: This fic was inspired by ‘Crave’ by @bonky-n-steeb, which can be found HERE. I also think that this might be my dirtiest fic yet and I am living for it.

Warnings: unprotected sex, insemination, pet names (doll, hon), orgasm control, alcohol, couch sex, cockwarming

You stand from your seat on the couch in your living room and turn off the TV. Your family has been gone only 4 days and you’re already bored out of your mind and you’ve done practically everything there is to do; baking, cleaning, crafts, rearranging, home workouts, all of it.

After standing meaninglessly in the middle of your living room thinking for a moment, you realize that there’s one last thing to do that you’d completely forgotten about: Bucky.

You hurry upstairs and freshen up, change, and neaten your appearance before running back down the stairs and out the door, headed to Bucky’s place.

You open the unlocked front door and step inside. You are immediately engulfed into the comforting atmosphere of Bucky’s house: warm 40s records playing from the kitchen, shaded lamps lighting up the rooms rather than white LED bulbs, and light browns and pale beiges colouring the furniture and walls.

“Buck? It’s Y/N!” you call out, making your presence known.

“Upstairs,” he replies from the floor above you.

You head up the hardwood stairs and, at the top, you see into Bucky’s bedroom at the end of the hall. You can’t help but take an eyeful of the shirtless, wet-haired super-soldier standing 18 feet away from you as you freeze at the top of the stairs. It feels wrong to be eyeing your neighbour this way but you can’t seem to peel your eyes off of the sight.

He drapes a light grey t-shirt over his shoulders before turning toward you and pulling it the rest of the way down.

“Like what you see?” he jokes as he brushes past you down the stairs.

You want to say yes, absolutely yes, but you know you won’t. So, you follow his path down the stairs a few moments after him, flustered.

You follow him into the kitchen as he pours himself a glass of whiskey.

“Want a drink?” he asks.

“Sure,” you respond, sitting opposite of him on a stool behind the counter.

He pours you a glass of the amber and slides it across the island to you as he leans his forearms on the edge.

“So, what do you want to do?” he asks, studying your face.

‘Fuck you Bucky. I wanna ride that super-soldier serum out of you drop by drop.’ you think to yourself, cheeks burning as he stares into your averted eyes. You take a moderate sip of the tingly liquid and place it back down before responding; “Have you seen Hamilton?” you ask after a brief pause.

“Yeah. Sam’s nephews made me watch it about six times before they got tired of it. Only took a week.”, he responds with small sarcasm.

“Well… do you wanna watch it?” you ask cautiously.

He raises an eyebrow before shaking his head.

“Sure, why not,” he responds with a small smile.

You can’t help but smile, too. A friend of yours had sent you some tracks from the Hamilton soundtrack and got you hooked on them a while back, just before Bucky moved in.

“What time is it?” he asks and nods to your pocket.

You pull your phone from your back pocket and check the time.

“10:37,” you respond.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Almost 11? It looks like 8!” he exclaims as you both look out the kitchen window just above the stainless-steel sink.

“The sun rises late in fall, genius. I thought you said you grew up here?” you say, tauntingly, as you stand from the stool and wander off into the living room. Bucky follows you across the floor.

“First of all, the sun set differently 70-something years ago, alright? Other than missions I didn’t get to see sunsets. I was locked in a damn freezer.” he retaliates, mocking his trauma as he takes another gulp from his patterned glass.

You set your glass on the coffee table in front of the couch and turn on the TV. He sinks into the couch on your left and places his glass next to yours. You put Hamilton on pause before rushing back into the kitchen to grab the rest of the bottle of Bucky’s whiskey.

“Really?” he asks with a monotone voice as you set it on the coffee table between the glasses.

“Why not,” you shrug before pressing play on the remote.

The first track plays and you curl up into the middle of the couch, tucking your knees up beside you.

—

As one of the tracks is performed on the screen, you can’t help but think about Bucky’s history as you process the lines. You look across the couch at the man watching the play intently, clearly relaxed and comfortable with the presences around him.

You again can’t seem to take your eyes off of him, admiring his blue eyes flicking around the screen as he watches the cast’s movements, admiring the dip in his cheek where he chews the inside of his mouth subconsciously.

You feel warm inside at the sight of him in such a natural, content state just down the couch from you.

Further lyrics provoke thought in you as you admire Bucky. The idea of shooting your shot with your neighbour pulses throughout your mind and you can’t help but shift in your spot.

Apparently, it’s enough movement to pique Bucky’s interest and he looks toward you.

“You alright?” he asks, dipping his brows.

“Yeah, why?” you flush as you realize how much you’d been moving.

“No reason.” He responds, hesitantly turning back to the TV.

You finally make up your mind.

Fuck it.

Moving closer to Bucky on the couch, you start to involve yourself more in his presence. As you sit next to him, you drop your head onto his broad shoulder; it isn’t abnormal of you, you do it all the time.

You continue watching the play— well, he does all the while you’re too busy in your head mapping out further actions.

You bend forward and grab the glasses from the coffee table, passing him his. As you retract your hand from his glass once he’s grabbed it, you subtly brush the side of your hand across his inner thigh. He sharply inhales from the contact, barely noticeable, but lucky for you, you noticed.

For the next twenty-or-so minutes, you make subtle movements to diverge Bucky’s attention. You would press the side of your hip into his thigh, fidget mesmerizingly with your fingers, and rest your head on his shoulder so he could just barely feel your breath fanning down the side of his neck.

Apparently, he’d caught on, because he began to do the same to you: brushing his hand across your lower back while reaching for the remote beside you to alter the volume, passing his pinky and ring fingers down your thigh while reaching for his drink, etc.

You get nothing if you wait for it, wait for it, wait

You look up to him through the corner of your eye only to see him already staring down at you. He places his right hand on your jaw and leans down the short distance to your lips, kissing you once, slowly. Your faces part after a quick moment and you both look in different directions.

“I’ve been waiting a while for that,” he states.

Silence.

“That was wrong,” you add as you fully process what just happened before shuffling into the back of the couch, not moving away from Bucky, just backward. He sighs and lets his head fall back, face scrunched into a sour canvas of regret. You two sit there for a moment as you think. “I never said I didn’t like it,” you speak into the quiet musical atmosphere.

Non-stop!

Bucky quickly swings his head back to face you and scans over your suggestive expression before reattaching your lips. You deepen the kiss by climbing over him and straddling his lap— slightly grinding onto his crotch. He holds your waist, pulling you closer to himself and toys with the hem of your shirt. Your movement stutters for a moment but then you lift the shirt over your head and toss it across the couch. Bucky eyes the flesh displayed by the push-up of your bra and runs his hand up and down your back slowly, gently pushing you back down to his face. He kisses from your lips, down your jawline, to your neck, across your collarbone, and eventually leaves a combination of light and dark hickeys spread across your chest.

He stands from the couch, holding you around his waist by the thighs and still attached via the kiss, and places you on your back along the couch. He hovers over you for a brief second before standing all the way up and peeling the fresh shirt off of himself. He climbs onto the couch on his knees and parts your legs before crawling between them and kissing you once again. He squeezes your thigh tightly as he makes out with you, not wanting you to go anywhere. You reach down and try to wiggle yourself out of your jeans but can only reach so far. He notices and pulls them down your legs with one hand, pulling one pant leg at a time. When he gets them to your ankles, you kick them off and they join the party of clothing at the other end of the couch. The kissing seems endless so to get a small break, you pull at the waist of his dark-washed jeans. He stands and pulls them off to reveal his previously hidden very hard, very large dick pitching a tent in his grey boxers. You chuckle in surprise, raising your eyebrows as you imagine the many things he could do to you.

“What? You’ve never seen a real man’s cock before?” he asks tauntingly, a massive smirk plastered on his face as he looks you in the eyes and lowers himself back between your legs— back to your lips.

Helpless

He lifts himself up and pushes himself backward along the couch, ending up at his final destination: between your legs. You lift your hips from the cushion for him and he slowly pulls your underwear off, keeping eye contact with him. You feel your cheeks burn a hot rod red as he eyes your heat, his pupils outweighing the blue of his eyes.

Once your underwear are all the way off, he wastes no time in getting to taste you. The second he is able to get back between your legs, his mouth is eating you out like it’s his last meal ever or his first in ages. The lewd sounds alone are enough to make you wanna cum + his occasional groans and constant squeezing of your thighs = you, a hot, moaning, squirming mess.

Your closed fists pull on his dark hair harder and harder as you get closer and closer which doesn’t take long.

Barnes works quickly and efficiently.

He laps his spit mixed with your arousal out from your lips like an animal, bringing you to a fast closing. With the harsh flicking of his tongue against your clit and the pressure of his middle finger up against your front wall, you feel your body convulse as if you’d just lost all control of it and stars form behind your eyelids. Bucky doesn’t slow or pause, though. He keeps working you overtime to make sure you’re absolutely empty for him.

He resurfaces to your face, dragging his Vibranium arm along behind himself, up across your heat and all along your stomach, giving you chills. He kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on him which was something you’d only ever imagined in wet dreams of him. You glide your hands down his abs and pull his boxers to his thighs. He takes them the rest of the way and you both sit in anticipation for a moment watching the precum leak from his tip and roll down the side. You sit up a bit and remove your bra, laying back down, flat on your back.

He takes in an absolute eyeful of your boobs and then lines himself up with you. He stares intensely into your eyes before speaking:

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this? It’s not just something we can undo, y’know,” he mutters, so close to your face that you can feel his eyelashes blow small, soft breezes onto your skin every time he blinks.

“Ab-so-lute-ly, Barnes,” you state cheekily as you sneak your hand around his length, softly gliding your thumb around his tip, evenly spreading his precum around.

He shudders at the feeling and wraps his hand around your closed hand and pushes himself into you slowly. Your mouth stays open at the feeling of the stretch but no sound comes out. Once he is all the way in, he keeps your hands together, interlacing your fingers and pressing your hands into the couch right beside your head. You let out occasional breathy moans as he pushes his hips into yours over and over, so far in that his pubic bone presses into your clit. When you let out one particularly voiced moan, his hips stutter as you tighten around him.

“God, you’re tight,” he chuckles, giving you butterflies and making your cheeks flush.

“Been some time,” you respond with a small awkward smile.

“Me too, give or take 70 years,” he jokes.

You both giggle. When he first moved in, he was relatively closed off but friendly. Once you started to make conversation with him and open up to him, he began to do the same. You eventually became sort of therapists for one another— he trusted you a lot. He lowers himself onto you so that you’re chest to chest, holding his weight on his right forearm, also placed beside you.

He takes his time with you and moves at a moderate-to-slow pace, pulling almost all the way out and pushing in as far as your cervix will let him. You arch your back off of the couch as you revel in the feeling of his dick stretching you around him and pressing up on your cervix with every thrust.

“Bucky, faster…” you moan out quietly.

He smirks up at you and begins to pick up his pace, keeping his thrusts deep and drawn-out. He lifts his torso back up off of you and holds himself up on your interlaced hands as he grabs your right hip. His fingertips press into your skin gently, pressing harder and harder as time goes on. He doesn’t try to hide his moans— he trusts you, plus every time he moans, you tighten around him.

You rock your hips against his in anticipation for your highly needed orgasm and he picks up the pace once again. He tilts his head down to watch the way your lips tuck with every push into you. He moans out when you tighten yourself around him to get his attention. He looks up at you with hooded eyes mostly made up of the black of his pupils and only small rings of ashy blue.

“Let’s flip,” you say with a smirk on your face, knowing he’ll comply. His mouth falls open as he pulls out of you and for a brief second gets to see the way your slick shines as small amounts of it leak from you. You stand from the couch and move to the middle while Bucky pushes himself up against the armrest on his back. You climb back onto the couch on one knee, supporting yourself from the ground with your other leg, and grab his wet cock in your hand, stroking it as you position yourself. You lower yourself closer to him and rub his tip along your heat, pushing it around, through your lips. You watch his face as he furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips in restraint, watching what you’re doing to him with a heavy glare.

After you’ve had enough with the teasing, you slowly start to lower yourself onto him, stopping after every short distance to pull him back out and start over until you hit the bottom. Once he is all the way in you, it feels much deeper than before and his face relaxes in relief but his eyebrows stay furrowed and the wrinkle between his brows remains. He puts his hands on your hips and guides you up and down his thick length, feeling your tight rim, smooth walls, and the pressure of your cervix into his tip welcome him every time. He makes mental notes of how it feels to be inside of you while you just take in the sight below you. You move a hand down south and begin to rub back and forth against your clit, eyes and head rolling back as you do so. You feel your high approaching quickly and start to move both your fingers and your body faster before you feel the cold metal of Bucky’s left hand pulling your hand away from yourself.

You open your eyes and retreat your head to face him but before you can process it, his thumb begins flicking your clit incredibly forcefully and fast. You cry out at the sensation— so overwhelming but so great— and feel Bucky twitch inside of you. He pushes your hips forward and inserts a finger into you in front of his cock, stretching you to a burning feeling. You want him to ditch the finger and stick to only the dick but before you know it, he’s moving his fingers and dick at the same time and you can’t help but feel like you’re floating in euphoria. Bucky removes the finger, slightly disappointing you. Then, he grabs your thigh on the couch and holds you in place, using his other 4 metal fingers to hold your hip on the opposite side of your body in place as well, still toying with your clit.

You look down at him through teary eyes to see him with wide eyes and a proud face like a kid in a candy store.

“Buck…”, you begin before being cut off by a wave of pressure into your abdomen.

You double over onto bucky, resting your forehead on his as he pounds into you from below deep, fast, and hard. You both watch from above as your fluids drip down onto him while he rearranges your guts.

“Buck! I’m gonna cum…” you cry, then weep to him, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it.

“Hang on to it for me, alright, doll? I just need you to hang on…” he says nearly out of breath.

You find yourself at a loss and almost unable to hold it back anymore, a tear rolling down your cheek and onto his face.

“Bucky!” you whine.

His face scrunches up, then relaxes as he moans loudly, looking back at the mess you’re making on him.

“Now, hon” he permits. He puts more pressure onto your clit and picks up the pace, sending you over the edge. You arch your back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades and rocking your hips as your high begins. “That’s it, cum for me. I’ve got you…” he reassures, intensifying your orgasm. You moan out into the closed pocket of air between you and Bucky’s chests as you press your forehead to his chin. “Give it all to me. You’re okay,” he says into the top of your head.

Your high begins to come down but just before you finish, Bucky lets out a loud, stuttered groan as you feel the tickle and warmth of his cum shooting into your abdomen as he continues to fuck you from below. You feel another orgasm come up and you still haven’t even finished the first yet.

“Bucky!” you yell out as you push your hips down onto him, breaking the restraint of Bucky’s hands on your hips. You press your hips up and down onto him as he meets your movements. You press your mouths together and tongue at each other's throats as you finish your orgasms at the same time. Once you’ve both finished, the kiss melts into a much less intense one as you lift yourself off of Bucky’s dick. It falls between his legs and you move up to sit on his lower abdomen and lay on his chest. You lay there together with your eyes closed as you listen to the music play from the TV and Bucky strokes your back with his fingertips while you play with his hair gently in one hand. He can feel his cum slowly dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.

“Stay a while?” Bucky requests.

[rubenfinity]

Teasing For Two ⤷ Rúben Dias

genre: fluff

summary: you often spent the weekends at your brother’s house but this time it was different, as his best friend Rúben was also staying over. There has always been a spark between you and your brother's best friend but neither of you acted on it until now.

words: 2.1k

note: hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it,, likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated <3

The clock struck 1 in the morning as you tossed and turned in bed. A quiet exasperated sigh escaped you whilst pulling the duvet back. Clearly, the whole sleeping thing was not working out so you dragged your feet downstairs, wearing only an oversized shirt and shorts. You searched for food in the fridge and kitchen cupboards, but there was only one thing that would be able to satisfy your late night cravings — chocolate chip cookies. And not just any old chocolate cookies but your ‘signature bake’ as your brother would put it. After several failed baking attempts in the past, you created your own recipe and since then, you never looked back.

As you knew the recipe from the top of your head, you preheated the oven and weighed the ingredients into separate bowls. Whilst  stuffing some of the left-over chocolate chips in your mouth, you mixed together the butter and sugar, followed by the eggs and then the dry ingredients.

“Need some help?” a deep voice took you by surprise, causing you to drop the wooden spoon.

“Shit, Rúben! You scared me,” you whisper-yelled, bending down to pick up the spoon and throwing it in the sink to wash later.

“And you need to be a little quieter,” he whisper-yelled back, mockingly. You did think you were being quiet but obviously not.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—,” your eyes found Rúben standing at the bottom of the stairs. And that was when you properly looked at him, a lump forming in your throat. 

He was wearing nothing but a pair of grey joggers hanging low on his hips. Despite the dim kitchen lighting, you were still able to see each and every one of his defined muscles from his arms to his abs. And when you noticed his messy hair, all you wanted to do was thread your hands through it. 

“Like what you see?” Rúben asked, unable to resist a smirk.

“Huh, I wasn’t staring at you,” you denied too quickly, looking everywhere but at him. You hoped that the dimly-lit kitchen was enough to mask your now crimson coloured face from the embarrassment of being caught staring at him.

“What would you call that then?” he raised an eyebrow, trying to see what kind of excuse you were going to conjure up this time.

“I was… analysing you,” Nope, that definitely made it worse. This was all going downhill so fast; it was so unlike you to stumble over your words.

“You were analysing my body?” Rúben teased. You could just tell he was loving every second of this by the cockiness smeared all over his face.

“No, I was analysing how ugly you look,” you retorted, wincing at your reply as you crossed your arms. You could have at least told a more convincing lie.

“Is that so?” he chuckled amusedly, not believing a word that came out of your mouth, whilst finding this nervous side of you endearing.

“Uh-huh,” you spun round without giving him another chance to tease you, hoping he would leave it at that. Your attention was now focused back on the cookies, giving the ingredients a final mix to make sure they were all combined. Then, you started to roll the mixture into cookie dough balls.

“What are you making then?” Rúben’s voice was getting closer and closer.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” you managed to say as you felt Rúben stand behind you, his bare torso ever so slightly pressed against your back. Impulsively, you leaned into his touch as your body ached for more, feeling his body tense under your touch. At this rate, you'll be here until morning baking cookies.

“My favourite,” your breath hitched as you felt Rúben’s words against your neck.

“Since when do cookies fit into your footballer diet?” You turned around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you were caught off-guard by the distance, or lack thereof, between the two of you.

“They don’t, but no-one needs to know,” he winked suggestively, and you could not help but think whether his words had a double meaning. You hated how Rúben was in control of the whole situation when normally you are the one teasing him.

“The only way you’ll be allowed any cookies is if you help,” clearing your throat, you tilted your head up to look at Rúben's face and not his shirtless torso you were currently standing very close to.

“I’ll do whatever you want, I’m all yours,” Rúben lifted his hand as he tenderly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes locking.

“Okay, now stop distracting me, I need to get these in the oven,” A blush crept onto your face under the heat of his gaze.

“How am I distracting you? I’m just having a conversation with you… unless you’re analysing my body again,” his mouth curved into a smile. You were never going to live that down.

“No!” you said a little too loud as you spun back around to continue rolling the dough.

Rúben moved to stand beside you, his back leaning against the countertop as he intently watched you roll the dough.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you muttered sarcastically, but nonetheless he takes his phone out, opens the camera and takes a candid photo of you in your element.

“Did you seriously— I didn’t actually mean it,” You explained incredulously after hearing the camera shutter sound from Rúben’s phone.

“I know,” he stared proudly at the photo on his phone, earning an eye roll from you.

“Make yourself useful and help me roll the cookie dough,” you plastered on a fake smile as you pushed the bowl of mixture a little to your right. The two of you rolled the dough in a comfortable silence, your hands often brushing whenever either of you took the dough from the bowl, each touch sending a fluttering sensation to your stomach.

“Am I doing this right?” it was impossible to resist a smile when you saw Rúben furrowing his brows, his forehead crinkling in concentration for such a simple thing.

“Yeah, that's perfect and then just put it on this tray,” you pushed the baking tray lined with greaseproof paper closer to Rúben.

When the tray was full of cookie dough, you slid it into the oven to bake for approximately 10-12 minutes. In the meantime, Rúben started to pile the dishes in the sink as you wiped the marble countertop of flour you spilled when measuring out the ingredients.

“Only the dishes left now,” after cleaning the last of the mess, you turned to face Rúben, whose eyes fell to the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little something on your face,” Rúben leans in, his thumb wiping chocolate off your face, which was most likely from those chocolate chips you were practically inhaling. When that was done, Rúben didn't move away. His thumb glided along your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on your lips and then darted to your eyes. You were unable to look away as a sense of longing and anticipation filled his eyes. The air around you thickened as you inhaled shakily, feeling your heart race before parting your lips slightly. 

“Rúben, I…,” you leaned in closer until the gap was almost non-existent, “... I need to check on the cookies,” you teasingly whispered against his lips, a glint of mischief flashing in your eyes before casually walking towards the oven, pretending to be unfazed by the past few minutes.

Rúben bit his lip, shaking his head amusedly as he knew you were teasing him as payback for earlier. The cookies had barely been in the oven for 5 minutes so they definitely would not be done so soon.

Two can play that game, Rúben taking it as a challenge.

As you bent down to open the oven door, you subtly lifted up your shirt to make sure Rúben had a good view of your ass. If you knew that he would be spending the weekend here, you would have packed some sexy silk pyjamas, but you had to make do with what you had now. You 'inspected' the doneness of the cookies, standing in that position for a little longer than necessary.

"Nope, they still need some time," you shut the oven door and propped yourself on the countertop, a grin on your face.

"I know what we can do until then,'' Rúben walked towards you, standing between your legs as he mindlessly traced invisible patterns on your bare skin. A rush of pink stained your cheeks as your pulse quickened with each caress.

"Yeah?" You breathed, feeling his hands travel higher up your thighs. With each touch, your heart pounded louder and louder, to the point that you were convinced Rúben could hear it.

"Yeah," Rúben inched nearer to you, his lips dangerously close to yours as your noses gently brushed. The two of you waited for the other to make the move, but you were equally as stubborn, and Rúben knew that too. So instead, he tilted his head to the side, his breath hot against your ear when he softly said, "you can wash up and I'll watch."

"Or you can shut up and kiss me," Rúben’s head snapped back in your direction, his mouth agape as he blinked slowly, surprised at your blatant statement. You froze, eyes widening at the realisation of what you said.

"Did I just say that out loud?" Shit. 

"You did," A smirk was playing on Rúben's lips, that smug smirk that vexed you beyond comparison. 

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Rúben's neck as you pulled him in for a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, a fleeting smile on his lips since he has finally felt your lips against his. Rúben’s hands swiftly travelled down to your waist, pulling your body closer. He needed to feel every inch of you. The kiss started off slow and gentle but grew more heated the longer you kissed. Reluctantly, you pull away, missing the warmth of the kiss almost instantly.

"That, uh, wasn't a kiss by the way," you mumbled breathlessly, "I was just getting rid of that stupid smirk," you bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the smile on your face.

"Just admit it Y/N, you like me,"  Rúben’s gaze locked with yours for a brief second.

"No, you admit it," your voice barely a whisper as you avoided eye contact. Your hands trail down to fidget with the chain that rested on Rúben’s collarbones, his muscles tensing under your fingertips caressing his chest.

"You already know how I feel about you,"

"I need to hear you say it," you found the courage to look into his eyes which glistened with nervousness.

"I like you Y/N, like a lot and I didn't say anything before because I didn't know how you felt about me but the more time I spend with you, the more I know you feel it too. So tell me, am I wrong to think that?"

"No," you breathed, shaking your head, still gazing deep into his eyes.

"So… you like me back?" hope tinged in Rúben’s voice.

"Yeah…” you started quietly, “but when you said you like me a lot, I like you a little less than a lot," Rúben narrowed his eyes in utter confusion, but when he finally understood what you said, he playfully rolled his eyes and kissed you.

"You should've just stopped at yeah," he chuckled against your lips. Conveniently, the oven timer started beeping, which meant the cookies were ready.

"Rúben, let go of me," you giggled as he peppered gentle kisses on your neck, "the cookies will burn or worse, my brother might wake up." 

Rúben stopped in his tracks, freezing on the spot for a split second before throwing himself across the kitchen. He frantically searched for the oven gloves and took the cookies out, leaving them to cool. The smell of freshly baked cookies surrounding the kitchen as Rúben made his way back to you.

"There, cookies are out, now, where were we?"