#repeat the following mantra after me

[fabled-lady-twilla]

"So, how's the Jujutsu Kaisen/My Hero Academia fandoms doing right now?"

DANGER, DANGER! THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALL HANDS ON DECK! SPOILERS AND MISERY AHEAD!

WE ARE NOT OKAY!

WE ARE 100% ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY!

IN THE SPAN OF LITERALLY LESS THAN FOUR DAYS, BOTH FANDOM'S BELOVED WHITE-HAIRED FAVORITES, WHICH GEGE & HORIKOSHI HAVE TEASED/HINTED/TORTURED US WITH POTENTIALLY GETTING A HAPPY ENDING, ONLY RIP THAT POSSIBILITY OUT FROM UNDERNEATH US LIKE NOTHING!

THIS IS LITERALLY THE CURRENT STATE OF BOTH FANDOMS:

HOW DO YOU THINK WE FEEL, TF? WE ARE EXPLODING ALL OVER TUMBLR/TWITTER/REDDIT/ETC. ALTERNATING BETWEEN YELLING AT OURSELVES AND EACH OTHER AND DROWNING OUR SORROWS IN COPIUM JUICE. 😭😭😭

[dyaz-stories]

JUJUTSU BOYS + POST SHIBUYA HURT/COMFORT

following Shibuya, the Jujutsu boys are in dire need of some comfort

featuring: nanami, yuuji, megumi, maki, inumaki, yuta, gojo

word count: 4.7k (600-700 words per character)

cw: canon divergence for nanami and gojo, season 2 spoilers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries, everyone needs a hug, some fluff ig, established relationships, not proofread

NANAMI

“He woke up,” Shoko informs you, closing the room to Kento’s door behind her. She doesn’t bother with small talk, gives only the necessary information since Shibuya. You don’t blame her. You understand why she would choose to keep her energy for what she thinks is essential. So when she approaches you, hands buried in her pockets, you know there is something she believes is that important to tell you.

“Is he— Has he said anything?”

“He thanked me — you know how he is. But, um— he’s lost an eye, and he’s badly burned. There’s nothing I can do about that. I’m sorry.”

She sounds genuinely dejected, but you shake your head.

“It doesn’t matter. Without you, he wouldn’t be alive. Can I—”

She gives you a faint smile.

“Sure. You can go in.”

You don’t wait for her to have finished her sentence to open the door. Kento looks up at you, and you take him in for a second. An eye patch covers his left eye, and that whole side of his body is burnt, badly, with fresh bandages covering it. It doesn’t stop you from launching himself into his arms, and he catches you without missing a beat.

“You’re alive,” is all you can say, repeating it like a mantra.

“I am,” he answers. “I apologize for worrying you.”

So very like him, apologizing while he’s lying on a hospital bed after suffering from horrific injuries.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” you whisper into his neck, tears rolling freely from your cheeks. “I don’t— I don’t—” I don’t know how I would have kept living without you.

His eye is filled with fondness and love, when he looks at you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask, gesturing at his left side.

“It does not,” he answers. “Shoko’s abilities are quite remarkable for that. I am healed. The bandages are mostly to stop the skin from becoming too dry — due to the size of the area, she couldn’t do it all herself.”

“Then… can I kiss you?”

He swallows around the lump in his throat. If he is honest, when Shoko talked to him after he woke up, one of his greatest fears was that you would be disgusted by him. He knows you find him handsome — found him handsome, at least. He knows that this was thinking far too little of you, and yet relief washes over him at your question.

“You can always kiss me.”

You’re cautious when you do, don’t want to risk hurting him, despite what he’s just told you. Your lips feel like coming home, and he loses himself in you, if only for a moment. All too soon, he feels the need to pull away for air. Even with Shoko’s miracle work, he feels weak, a sensation he finds himself hating with his entire being. He likes being strong, likes being your rock, likes supporting you in any situation. He despises the fact that that has been taken away from him.

“I think it would be for the best if I spent the night here,” he tells you. “The chair isn’t very comfortable, so if you wish to go home, I wouldn’t—”

You shake your head immediately.

“I’m not leaving you anytime soon. I’m spending the night here. I’m sure I can find a pillow and a blanket somewhere, and I will be just fine with that.”

Aren’t you just adorable when you’ve made up your mind?

“If that is okay with you, that’s fine with me,” he nods. “But, first…” He opens his arm on the right side. “Would you join me?”

There isn’t much space in the bed for the two of you, but you make it fit, leaning against the wall so he can have his head against your chest. Even though he wants nothing more than to revel in the moment, he feels his eyes closing, lulled by the beating of your heart and your fingers carding through his hair.

He loves taking care of you but he supposes that, for the time being, it won’t be too bad if he’s the one being taken care of.

YUUJI

Finding Yuuji following the Shibuya Incident requires you to venture into the belly of Tokyo, making your way through curse after curse, stepping over the bodies of sorcerers and humans alike, never taking the time to stop. At least Megumi had warned you that he was likely to keep moving, so you hadn’t given up hope yet, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid for him. Not physically, no, you didn’t think there was anything left here that could actually hurt him, but, based on what Megumi had told you, his head hung low, you can only imagine how devastated he must be.

You spot him when he finishes off a curse, on a rooftop near you. It isn’t long before you land there yourself, and there he is.

“Yuuji!”

He freezes when you call out his name, and turns towards you oh so slowly. When he looks at you, you could almost cry with relief. There he is, your Yuuji. A little worse for wear, but alright. You take a step towards him, ready to run into his arms, when he takes a step back.

A tall man wearing a kimono, his hair tied into two buns, lands in front of him, between the two of you.

“Who is that?” he asks Yuuji. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

There is quiet resolution in his voice. He doesn’t sound like he wants to kill you, but you don’t think he would hesitate to do it.

“N-no,” Yuji says, his voice hoarse. “No, it’s alright, Choso. Would you mind…?”

The man nods, still not showing any emotions.

“Of course. I’ll give the two of you some space.”

He throws you a threatening glance — as if you could ever be a threat to Yuuji — before jumping off the building.

You take another step forward. This time, Yuuji doesn’t move, but he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Don’t,” he says. He sounds weak.

Another step.

“Why not?”

He closes his eyes.

“I’ve killed—” A deep, shuddering breath. “—so many people.”

Step.

“That wasn’t you.”

You say it softly, gently, but you’re not sure that he can hear you, as he is now.

“It’s still my fault.”

His voice is no stronger than a whisper.

“It was Sukuna’s doing.” Step. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Step.

You’re close to him now, close enough to see his hands balled up into fists, his lower lip trembling, how he scrunches his face so he doesn’t cry.

“Yuji,” you call, and in your mouth, his name sounds like a term of endearment. “It’s not your fault.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t have anything more to say. He wants so, so badly to believe you, but his heart, his mind, and Sukuna’s voice in the back of his head are all whispering that you’re lying. When you reach him, your hands go up to his face, cradle it like it’s a precious porcelain. You trace the scar on his forehead, stroke the one on his lip with your thumb, and then you press your lips against it with great care.

And he falls apart.

Your arms are around him as he lets himself fall to the ground, and you let him bury his head in the crook of your neck as he sobs, let him hold on to you like a drowning man to a lifeline. You stroke the back of his head gently. The motion is soothing. Soft. Loving.

“I’m a monster,” he chokes, and tears fill your eyes.

“You’re not,” you promise, voice breaking. “You’re not. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He gasps like he’s breathing for the first time in days, and you keep him there, in your arms. He’s not okay yet — won’t be for a long time. But he’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s moving forward, one small step at a time.

You will be here to support him until he can stand on his own again.

No matter how long it takes.

MEGUMI

Megumi has always been the quiet type. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, lets people in on his thoughts only in spare, carefully chosen sentences. He turns away if emotions overwhelm in, deals with the worst of it privately, would never let anything spill out if he could help him. Emotions are his problems, and he cannot bear the thought of them hurting someone other than him.

Still, you’ve always been able to read him. The softness in his eyes when he looks at Yuuji and Nobara, the smile he doesn’t quite allow to make its way to his lips when Gojo decides to spoil him, the way he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest so he can hide his face in your neck, even if you can spot his ears turning red. The way the corner of his lips turn down, too, when his mind drifts towards Tsumiki, the twitch in his jaw when someone brings up his father, the clench of his fists when he feels hopeless.

You can read him like a book.

He is even quieter when he comes back from Shibuya, and his emotions are expressed even more minutely, blink and you’ll miss it.

You can only watch from the audience in one of the numerous meetings that follow his return. Him and a number of other sorcerers testify, and you have to hear him recounting the same details over and over. You’re here to see, helpless, how he lowers his gaze when several sorcerers recommend Yuuji’s execution, and how his eyes dull when his sentencing is pronounced.

But he never comes to you. At first, you assume he can’t — there are a number of physicals for him to clear. You reason that he must be exhausted, must want his space for now, and resolve to give it to him. It’s on the day of the last council, when he averts his eyes to avoid meeting yours, that you realize what was happening.

He’s been avoiding you.

It’s a half-hearted attempt, one that comes to an end when you knock against the open door to his room. He doesn’t look up at you when he answers.

“Come in.”

His room is almost bare, but you know he keeps pictures from the two of you in his drawers.

You sit on the bed next to him, let your knee brush against his. He doesn’t move away.

“I haven’t seen you since you came back,” you say. You know better than to broach the subject directly, wouldn’t want to spook him.

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. I just came to check in on you.”

He’s quiet for longer than he should be.

“…I have to go back out there. I have to talk to Itadori.”

You read between the lines. You know that he would give you more than that if he felt he could, understand that he is trying to make this as painless for you as he can.

You reach for his hands and squeeze it.

“Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“…you sure?”

You know that’s not the question he’s asking. You know he wants you to feel able to yell at him, protest, scream until there’s nothing left of the two of you, all so that you will feel better, even if he leaves unloved and a little more shattered than he was when he arrived.

“I’m sure.”

The sigh of relief he lets out sounds more like a sob. Next thing you know, he’s letting his head drop onto your shoulder, black hair tickling your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry. Can I— Can I just stay like this a little longer? Please?”

You keep yourself still, reach up to cup his cheek, stroke it softly.

“As long as you need.”

He moves his head so he can press a kiss to your cheek, lets his lips linger there longer than he needs to. When he turns around, you see he’s turned crimson.

The outside world might have turned into hell, but this room hasn’t yet.

In here, the two of you can hope that simpler, happier times will come again some day.

MAKI

Maki supposes that there are worse ways to wake up than with her head in your lap. By the time she comes to, Reverse Cursed Technique has done its job — mostly. If she could muster it, she would be glad that she wasn’t awake to feel it processing. It’s always felt foreign to her, and she hates feeling it on her body.

What she hates more, though, is the tingling of the burns on her face and body.

“Isn’t there anything to be done about that?” you’re asking Shoko when her eyes flutter open. You’re mindlessly running your fingers over the scarred skin, and it feels fresh and soothing.

“I’m sorry,” Shoko says, sounding exhausted but always taking the time to answer students’ concerns. “RCT can’t fix burns. Non-sorcerers have done some progress in that domain, I think. Maybe she’ll want to look into it.”

“I hope she won’t care,” you mumble.

“Why,” Maki asks, and you look down at her in shock, “is it that bad?”

She pushes herself up, looking around for her glasses, but stops when she realizes both you and Shoko are staring at her, mouth gaping.

“You’re something else,” Shoko finally comments, a tired grin forming on her lips. “Thought you’d be asleep for at least another day. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in the next room, alright?”

She leaves with a wave of her hand, some of the weight of the past week taken off her shoulders, now that she’s done her work.

When Maki turns to look back at you, you already have her glasses in your hand. You’re careful when you pass the branches over her ears to put them on her, and she lets you do it, studying your expression. Your eyes are red from crying, and you look tired, too, but at least she cannot see any injuries on you.

“So?” she raises an eyebrow at you, and her skin stretches uncomfortably. “Do I really look that terrible?”

You shake your head and smile at her, reaching up to cup her cheek.

“You’re as stunning as always. I’d just hate it if you thought otherwise.”

She leans into your touch, closing her eyes. Her whole body aches. She cannot pinpoint any real physical pain, but there is an overall soreness  that she wants to stretch out. She would, if she could bear the thought of losing your touch, if only for a second.

“What about my hair?” she asks, trying to add a playful inflexion to her tone. “Don’t tell me you let them do whatever they wanted with it.”

You shake your head, mirroring her expression.

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you say with a fake eyeroll. “I’ll have you know it looks super stylish.”

She nods, then turns her head to kiss the inside of your palm. She likes the way it flusters you, how you bite your lip and glance away to hide it from her.

“Do you— do you want to hear about what else has happened?”

Her smile dims, and she shakes her head.

“Can I get a minute of this first?” Her voice comes out hoarser than she would like. “Y-you can tell me afterwards. I just— I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” you reply, softly.

When you open your arms, she doesn’t hesitate a second to plunge in. She rests her cheek against your chest, and you wrap her in a tight hug that she returns without missing a beat. You’re warm and soft, as you always are.

She’ll get back to fighting, to throwing her whole body in the line of fire soon enough, that is a promise. She’ll mourn the dead, she’ll shed tears.

But first, she gets a minute of respite, in the arms of the only person that can give it to her.

INUMAKI

You rush through the emergency room, unbridled fear in your veins. The place is a morgue. There are more dead than living in here, and you’d be horrified if your mind wasn’t focused on one person and one person only — one that you cannot find. Cursed energy is no use right now, not with the place being such a mess.

“Ieiri!” you finally call when you see her passing by, pale as a corpse, not examining a body for more than handful of seconds before moving on to the next. “Where— Where is Toge?”

She looks straight through you. The dark circles under her eyes are even deeper than usual.

“Alive. That way.”

She point vaguely in a direction and then she’s gone, but it’s all you need. You find yourself running, unceremoniously opening and closing doors in your desperate search for him. When you find him, you could almost cry in relief.

“Toge,” you call, and you’re afraid your legs will give in underneath you.

He looks at you with wide eyes — eyes that you love so much, because they always say everything his lips can’t. Despite everything that’s happened tonight, they’re full of life, and that is the sight you’d been hoping for the most.

It’s only after looking inside that you realize what’s happened to his arm.

You walk over to him, sit on the chair next to his bed. He holds his hand out for you to take, and when you do, he squeezes it between his fingers, three times. His own, silent way of saying ‘I love you’. You lean forward, resting your elbows on the bed and hanging your head low.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper. “I was so scared.”

You feel his lips on the top of your head, and you cannot help but smile. It feels selfish, smiling in such circumstances, when so many people have lost their lives and their loved ones. But you’re reunited with him, and it is the only reaction that feels appropriate. You look up at him. Without his usual clothes, the seal on his mouth is on full display.

“Do you want a scarf?” you ask, gesturing at your bag. You always carry one, as well as cough syrup, just in case.

Fondness flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head. Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand to tap on his phone. The movements are clumsy, and a knot forms in your throat, watching him do it, but you can’t think of anything to do to help him.

‘No need,’ the phone reads when he turns it back towards you. And then, after a line break ‘Sukuna attacked.’

You’d hear about that. You… had just hoped it wasn’t true.

“So, Itadori…?”

“Bonito flakes,” he answers, shaking his head. Silence falls on the room.

You usually like silence with him. It feels comfortable, like an old friend you’re happy to welcome. Tonight, though, you feel the need to blurt out “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

His lips turn downward, and he gestures at his arm dejectedly, but you shake your head, and you stand up so you can sit on the bed, by his legs. You grab his hand in both of yours.

“I would take anything as long as it means you’re back here with me. I know— I know it’s selfish, but I just— You’re everything.”

Toge presses his forehead against yours when you start crying. Gently, he frees his hand so he can wipe the tears running down your cheeks. He doesn’t get to express his emotions freely, so you do it for the two of you, that’s how it’s always been between you. That doesn’t stop him from tilting your chin so he can press his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and gentle.

“I love you,” you say for the both of you.

He wishes he could tell you that he hasn’t felt like he’d truly made it back from Shibuya until he saw you walking through the door.

When he kisses you again, he thinks you’re aware of it.

YUTA

“They agreed to entrust me with Itadori’s execution,” Yuta tells you when he finds you, anxiously waiting for him to come out of his meeting with the higher-ups. “I had to take a binding vow, but that won’t be a problem.”

He says it so casually, and you can’t help but sigh. Immediately, his eyes fill with worry.

“Is something wrong?”

You can feel his eyes scanning you, looking for an injury, and that brings a faint smile out of you. As if anything could hurt you here, in one of the last jujutsu strong place in Japan.

“I just wish you wouldn’t have to do that,” you admit with a shrug. “I wish there was another solution.” I wish you didn’t think the weight of the world is yours to take now that Gojo isn’t here to bear it.

“Oh!” He lights up, and you hate that he feels relief, because to him, it is inconsequential as long as it’s happening to him. “That’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Well, someone has to, since he won’t do it himself. You reach for his hand, fiddling with his fingers, and you can’t help but smile when you feel him freeze. You can’t believe he still reacts to your touch that way, no matter how many times you do it.

“Breathe,” you say, glancing up at him.

He flushes when he realizes he was, indeed, holding his breath.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He doesn’t have to apologize, but he always does.

“Then I’ll go and keep an eye on Toge and Maki,” you decide. “I heard Maki’s recovering well, but I’ll see if there’s anything more they need. Maybe I’ll help Toge get back to his family.”

Yuta hesitates.

“You don’t— You don’t have to do that for me, you know?”

Ha. Guilty as charged. You’re just trying to take some of the weight off his shoulders so he won’t have to carry it all alone. You wrap your arms around his neck, smile when he turns even redder. He doesn’t move away from you though, and, after hesitating, he even closes his hands on your waist. The touch is feather-light, and you think he’d take them off if you breathed a little too hard. But it’s there, and he’s come a long way, truly.

“I know. I just want to.”

He’s crimson, but his eyes still soften at your words. With a sigh, he leans his forehead against yours.

“What have I done to get this lucky?” he marvels, and he sounds so loving you think you might just melt in your spot.

“You deserve the world,” you answer truthfully.

He lets out an embarrassed laugh that you interrupt with a kiss. His lips are soft and cautious against yours, and he is nothing but tender. You know he’s doing his best to restrain himself, both because you’re in a public space where someone could walk by and because it takes a lot more to get him out of his shell.

“Wh-what was that for?” he asks when you pull away, a pout in his voice.

“For luck,” you hum in reply. “You better come back to me.”

His fingers tighten on your waist. He doesn’t want to let go. If he could shut the whole world out and live only in your arms, he thinks he would do it in a heartbeat. But there are people out there who need saving, and you know even you can’t stop him from going to help them.

“I’ll keep your friends safe until then, okay?”

No matter what you tell him, he still doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve you. That means he should let go of you, be on his way and wish you well on yours. Instead, in an impulsive move, he wraps his arms tighter around your waist to pull you flush against his chest in a tight hug.

You laugh in surprise and hug him back, and in that moment, he is absolutely certain that there is nothing that could stop him from coming back to you.

GOJO

“Guess who’s back!” Satoru calls when he walks into your home as if nothing’s happened, as if you haven’t spent hours on the phone with various sorcerers, trying to understand what on earth was happening and if he was even still alive.

You turn to look at him with daggers in your eyes, and you want to scream, but you don’t find the words when you take in the sight of him. There’s blood on his face that he hasn’t bothered to wipe off, his clothes are torn, the blindfold he’s holding in his hand is in an even sorrier state, and despite the smile on his face, you don’t think there is a muscle to his body that isn’t in a state a tension.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He shrugs, walks across the room to grab a towel that he vigorously rubs against his face.

“I’m always okay.”

The sentence sounds empty, and you’re about to go up to him when he drops the towel to move towards the bathroom with a groan.

“It’s not coming off,” he says before splashing his face with water.

You follow him and watch as he repeatedly rinses his face. The blood has long come off, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with it. He pours generous amounts of soap on his hands, but there is nothing more to take off there. You wait a few seconds more before joining him. You still his hand with a pressure of his wrist, clean off the remaining soap, and cut off the water. He lets you do it, just as he lets you guide him back to the bed to sit down.

“What happened?” you urge him, keeping his hands in yours. He feels so far away, even if he’s sitting inches from you, and you’re desperate to bring him back to you.

Long seconds go by before he answers you.

“I made a mistake,” he finally says, words pulled out like teeth. “That’s what happened.”

You would tell him that everyone makes mistakes, but you know what’s prompting this. He isn’t everyone. He doesn’t make mistakes. He is Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one in charge of preserving the balance of the world after he’s irremediably altered it simply from being born.

Your hands come up to his face, and you trace his jaw with careful fingers. He closes his eyes. Lets you ground him. He can’t think of anything else he needs more right now.

“You’ve done so much,” you whisper. “I’ve been talking to Shoko — she says that without you, human losses would be much worse.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle.

“That is always true.”

Coming from someone else, it would sound like bragging, but you know that Satoru is only stating a fact. He always saves the day, which makes this so, so much worse. You climb on the bed behind him, start massaging his shoulders. Despite himself, he can’t help but relax into your touch. He doesn’t feel like he deserves that, deserves the comfort you’re bringing to him, and yet, as always, he’s powerless against you.

“But wasn’t the point always that your students would be able to take over?” you ask, softly. “And they did. They saved you. Sounds to me like you did well, Satoru.”

Did he? Sure doesn’t feel like it.

“Hm, I guess Yuji and Megumi did real well tonight,” he admits, and he lets himself lean back into your arms fully. “Just wish… Just wish it hadn’t turned out like that.”

You press a kiss to his temple, and he sighs. He doesn’t think he will be okay again tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either — maybe not before a long time.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’d be nice.”

His eyes follow as you walk back into the bathroom.

“You’ll join me?”

A smile flashes on your face.

“Sure.”

He won’t be okay any time soon, but with you by his side, he thinks he can at least try to get there again someday.

thank you for reading! as a note, gojo's piece is written under the hypothesis that he was unsealed but unsealed before the end of the night. I hope you enjoyed these pieces, please consider reblogging and/or letting me know your thoughts in a comment, interactions are the best way of supporting me and of keeping me writing ^-^

more jujutsu kaisen x reader here (primarily gojo x reader)

[vampiefemme]

in which ellie shows you exactly who you belong to.

18+ minors dni!

You and Ellie aren’t together. 

You’re not a couple. You’d both agreed to keep things casual. You’re just roommates who mess around sometimes; simple as that. 

So why do you feel so guilty for going on a date with someone else?

You’re dressed and ready, adding the final touches to your makeup in the mirror, and you should be feeling excited - your date is a total dreamboat. Perfect on paper and so, so hot. But instead of that giddy, fluttery feeling in your stomach, all you feel is guilt. 

You and Ellie aren’t together, you keep reminding yourself. You repeat it like a mantra in your head. There’s nothing wrong with going on a date, right? Because you’re single… Right?

On your way out, you run into Ellie, because of course you do. She’s sprawled out on the couch, head propped on a pillow, playing her Switch with a determined look on her face. Your stomach clenches when you see her. She looks up when she hears you walk to the front door, her eyes following you as you slip into your shoes. 

“You look nice,” Ellie says from the couch. You look over and see that she’s paused her game; she’s sitting up and drinking in the sight of you, eyes lingering over your frame. You pretend not to notice. 

“Thank you, Ellie.” You grin and look down at your outfit, palms smoothing over the fabric of your skirt. You do look nice. 

“Where are you going?” 

Your cheeks go hot at the question, and your first instinct is to lie - to tell Ellie that you’re going to see a friend. Just catching up with someone from college over dinner. But it’d be stupid to lie - you’re single. You’re allowed to go out.

“I’m, um, going on a date.”

You don’t look at her when you say it - you know you’d feel guilty, even if the two of you are just friends with benefits. Or… Roommates with benefits?

“Oh,” Ellie says, as you busy yourself picking off nonexistent lint from your shirt. Anything to avoid her gaze. “Okay. Have fun, then.”

There’s no bitterness in her voice, which you had expected. You glance at her face, and she’s back to that determined expression, focused on her Switch again. 

You clear your throat. “Thanks. I’ll, um… See you later.” 

Naturally, you spend the entire date thinking about Ellie. Her eyes, green and dotted with flecks of brown. Her hair, which falls in her face just right. Her mouth, and the way it feels against the supple flesh of your throat, Ellie’s lips soft and wet as she trails kisses down your neck. 

And her hands - her strong hands. You can almost feel them on your hips, on your chest, between your legs. 

God, this date was a mistake.  

Still, you have the common decency to see it through. You pretend to be interested in your date’s job, their hobbies, their five year plan. They drone on for hours, only asking you a few pointed questions about yourself, and when the dinner’s finally over and they’ve signed the check, you’re itching to leave.

Not long after you’ve made it back home, you’re face-down on Ellie’s bed, moaning into the mattress as her tongue circles your clit. 

She’d asked you about your date between heated kisses, her lips flushed and swollen. You hadn’t given her much details aside from it was boring and I just wanted to come home and do this. That seemed to give Ellie some sort of complex, because now, as she pumps her fingers into your cunt with one hand and lands a stinging smack on your ass with the other, she pulls back from mouthing at your clit to rasp, “That’s it, moan for me.” 

And she’s always been talkative in bed, all slurred curses and dirty comments, but there’s something different this time. You arch your back deeper, giving her more access to pound her fingers into you, and she groans in approval. 

“Good fucking girl,” she breathes, using her free hand to dig her blunt nails into the flesh of your ass. She gives it another spank for good measure. “Wanna tell me whose pussy this is?”

There it is - something she’s never said before. You can feel yourself getting wetter, tightening around her fingers as your hips involuntarily push backwards against her palm. You forget to respond entirely, every thought in your head smooth and shapeless, disappearing as quickly as it came. But Ellie won’t let you off so easily. 

“Flip over,” she orders, the rasp in her voice sending a thrill up your spine. You obey wordlessly, and when you’re on your back, you see it: a possessive glint in her gaze, a sharp edge to her expression. You gush impossibly wetter, cunt clenching around nothing - the absence of Ellie’s fingers makes you want to sob. 

“Ellie,” you whisper, brows knitting together. Her gaze softens. “Please make me come.”

A smile tugs at her lips and she nods, her palm rubbing over your stomach in soothing circles. 

“I will, princess,” she assures you, “but I need you to tell me who you belong to. Think you might’ve forgotten.”

Guilt twists in your gut. “You, Ellie.” 

“What about me?”

There’s a challenge in the teasing lilt of her voice. You swallow. “I… Belong to you.”

“Mm, that’s right.” Ellie’s hands travel upward from your abdomen to your chest, closing around each of your tits. You suck in a shaky breath when her thumbs stroke over your pert nipples, making them draw even more taut. “These are mine?”

“Yours,” you gasp, chest rising and falling quickly. Ellie’s bangs fall in her eyes as she leans over to suck a nipple into her mouth, tongue swirling over the bud until you go cross-eyed, hips canting upward. She repeats the same torture with your other breast, leaving both of your nipples swollen and sensitive. 

“What about this?” Ellie asks when she pulls back, her hand moving to the heat between your legs. You whine, a desperate, pathetic little sound that makes Ellie want to eat you whole. 

“Yours, Ellie, it’s yours,” you say, voice betraying how needy you are. She dips a finger into your wetness, your folds silky with arousal, and you almost miss the way her eyes flicker back into her skull for a moment. She’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

“This is mine?” She drags her fingers up to your clit, drawing torturously wide circles around it - close, but not close enough. You could start crying right there. You nod, frantic.

Ellie clicks her tongue, tuts in disapproval. “No, baby, I need to hear you say it. Whose pussy is this?”

And it’s not so hard to admit - Ellie’s had you under her spell long before you went on that stupid date tonight. You realize it now, cheeks warming at the obscene sounds of Ellie’s fingers playing in your cunt, unable to look her in the eye without squirming. 

“My pussy’s yours,” you pant, “s’all yours. Nobody fucks me like you, Els.” 

You’re pushing your hips towards her touch, your tits in your own hands now, pulling at your nipples like it’ll relieve the growing need in your belly. Ellie eyes you with half-lidded eyes, lust heavy in her gaze, and it’s like you can see the remnants of her resolve break. She sinks between your legs and finally, finally laps at your desperate cunt, drinking in the taste of you as you whine and writhe above her. 

When you come, it’s with Ellie’s name on your lips. And you know it’s true - you’re entirely hers.

[awakenedevildays]

「The, not so, other woman」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

TW: smut! (badly written, but still smut), angst, cheating (not on reader).

Infos: Art and the reader are 26 yo, Art and Tashi's daughter doesn't exist here.

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"Promise you'll stay here tonight" he says , his thrusts slow and deep in you, his body tremble as his movements are too slow for him too "tell me you'll stay here with me" he stills inside of you.

"Art, please move" you beg under him as one of his hands push your hips down to stop you from moving up, he hisses, his eyes closing while he struggles to wait for your answer. 

He moans quietly and he leans down to kiss you deeply, but just as you are about to return the kiss he pulls away as a way to show he's not giving you any stimulation till you say what he wants to hear "tell me you'll stay with me" he whispers before planting soft needy kisses over your jaw. 

"I will, just- please" you moan and he smiles against your jaw. 

He starts to move at a slow pace, kissing over your face and down your neck as you finally get that friction back "god you're so needy" he whispers lovingly, giving you exactly what you need: he is so deep inside of you that it's hard for you to breath "I'm going to cum" you moan as your body trembles under him.

"Cum for me, come on baby" he nibbles your ear after saying it and he feels close too, his hand reaches your clit to stimulate it with his fingers in circular motions "god, I love you so much, you were made for me" he moans as you clench around him.  

You cum repeating his name like a mantra and he follows shortly after inside of your walls, his cock hits your cervix and your eyes fly to the back of your head when he stills there. 

"oh god" he moans and lays down on top of you, his body weight presses against your body pleasantly as he peppers several kisses everywhere he can reach. 

 You rest like that until he feels like his limbs can move again and and his breathing returns to normal, "you're so pretty" he says and you smile softly at him, your eyes almost totally closed peers at him and his smile widens "I'll be right back" he pulls out his softening members and you both hiss at the stimulation. He comes back from the bathroom seconds later, a towel in his hand to clean the both of you. 

After wiping the sensitive skin between your legs he throws the towel on the floor and takes your panties from the end of the bed to slide them on your legs until it rests against your hips, he wears his boxer too and joins you back on the bed.

His arms wraps around you, your back meets his chest and you feel so safe and comfortable against him. He presses soft kisses to each of your shoulders and up to your neck "I love you so much" he whispers almost shyly.

Your smile is bitter but you answer anyway, your answer genuine but full of sadness "I love you too" you say, your voice weak cause of the tears that threatens to escape and Art can feel your demeanor change. He holds you tighter in his arms but doesn't say anything, he knows there isn't something he can say to make you happy at the moment. 

"It's okay" he whispers and you hold onto his arms, your eyes burns from impending tears and he rubs your arm gently "it's going to be okay" he mumbles, more to convince himself than you, you don't say anything as you turn around in his arms so that your head rests on his chest: his hand around you continues to gently rub your shoulders after pulling the sheets over your naked bodies, he plants several soft kisses to your head, forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, anywhere he can reach without having to move too much.

He can feel you growing sadder and sadder and it hurts, but his arms stay wrapped around you anyway and he presses his body against yours as much as he can. 

"You should rest, we'll talk in the morning, does that sound good?" he comforts you, he keeps a steady but slow rhythm as he rubs your back. 

"mhm" you nod your head slightly, not having the energy to speak and his other hand goes through your hair softly until you finally calm down, until your breath evens out and you fall asleep a few minutes later together. 

The clock signs 4 AM when Art wakes up after hearing rustlings around the room and he sighs as his arms reaches to the other side of the bed to pull you to him only to meet the empty messy sheets still warm. He sits straight and his eyes bolts to the other side of the room, you're up, and you're dressing hurriedly in the dark.

His heart sinks in his chest and he watches for a moment as you put on your bra, you don't look at him as you move and he turns on the lamp on the nightstand.

He feels his chest tightening and he can barely find the courage to speak "you're leaving?", his voice small and breaking slightly already "yes I am" you answer coldly. 

"hey, come here..." he says as he sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows rest on his thighs and his hands run through his hair, you can tell from his tone that he's frustrated and you look at him, watching him for a moment as his hair messily covers his eyes, he bows his head, his body language is defeated and you just want to comfort him, tell him everything will be okay, but you know better than to give him false hope. 

"I can't do this anymore" you avoid his gaze as your eyes fills with tears again and Art's heart breaks in his chest 'why do I always have to make her cry?' he thinks as he stands up, but every step he takes forward you take one back. 

He blinks and freezes for a moment, his head snapping back up as his gaze meet your own—shock, confusion and worry all flashed through his eyes in that moment: he knows that this affair is wrong, that you deserve better than this half relationship he has given you for the past year, but seeing you giving up on this... on him, is shattering his heart. 

"w-what do you mean?" he asks even if he already knows the answer.

"I mean that this won't happen ever again" you say while you take your shirt from the ground.  

His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach and his breath catches in his throat, a look of almost disbelief cross his face. He feels cold all of a sudden as if a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. 

He blinks and his mouth falls open for a moment as if to argue but he can't find the words to say "no, no. no, no—" he shakes his head and takes steps closer towards you "please don't leave". 

This sounds like a bad joke, he's wanted you for years, he yearned you like nothing else before and when you finally look in his direction, he finds out he is incapable of keeping you close to him ... fuck, he wants to cry. 

He is slowly losing you and he doesn't even know what to say to make you stay.

"Why don't you get it Art!? I want to get married! I want a husband that loves me and only me and I want a child, maybe even two... I want to be the first choice of someone, I want someone that can love me freely and that is proud of saying I am his wife, I don't deserve this" your hands gesture around the room "I don't deserve to be fucked in a hotel room only to find myself alone the morning after, knowing that you're already back with Tashi, going on with your life while I find myself in the same exact point I was a year ago" you cry out, tears now staining your cheeks. 

Art goes silent and he just stands there as he takes in everything you're saying. He blinks rapidly and his gaze flutters around as he tries to comprehend and process everything. His mind is spinning and his heart feels like it's breaking as he looks at you crying. He tries to open his mouth to speak a few times but nothing comes out, he has no idea what to say. Just imagining you with another man takes his breath away. 

"I'm not your first choice Art, and I deserve better" you sob as your arms wrap around yourself. 

Art watches you cry in front of him. He hates it, he hates this, he hates himself. Still, he walks until he is in front of you and his hands take your face softly "you're my.." he pauses and glances towards the wedding ring on his finger that shines in the light, before he shakes his head and looks back at you "you're my first choice..". 

You scoff and take his hands off your face "no I'm not Art, and I'll never be" you look around for your skirt.

"No." he mumbles and his hands grabs your hips, his eyes are filled with desperate tears and his mind is trying to find a way to make you stay "it's true! I'll divorce Tashi..! I'll divorce her..! Just stay with me, please.." he begs. 

You snort "yeah, right" you shake your head but when you try to move his hands tightens.

His jaw clenches at the snort and the words, his gaze hardening as he looks at you- you've never been so stubborn before, you never looked at him with such distain in your eyes before "why don't you believe me... you know I'd do it for you.." he whispers almost desperately, his gaze softening again in pure vulnerability as tears began to slip down his cheeks.

"'cause you never gave me a reason to trust you, Art! we've been doing this for a whole year and nothing changed, you expect me to trust you now only because I'm finally leaving?" your voice raises.

"That's not true..!" he argues back instantly, hurt flashing through his teary gaze despite the fact that you have a point, not much has changed this year. He didn't want this life to be this way, to be caught in a loveless marriage, with his wife fucking his best friend and with so much wrong happening in his personal life despite the fame he had gained due to his career. He just wants to make you happy, he wants to be happy with you. 

He sighs and takes a moment to calm down, his shoulders slump slightly as he lets go of your hips. "You think I wanted this?" he says quietly "I want to be with you, I don't want Tashi, I don't love her anymore, I feel nothing for her... please, give me a chance to make it right, I can be that man for you, I can be anything you want" he kneels in front of you "I'll divorce her and I'll find a new coach, she won't be in our lives anymore and we'll be happy" his hands wrap around your waist, his head resting on you hip. 

You look at him for a long moment, taking in the way he gazes at you as he rests against your hip, his hands tight around your waist as he waits for a response—the words he spoke bringing a sharp tinge of hope to you that you didn't allow yourself to feel until now.

You raise your hand to slowly comb it in his hair and he sighs at your touch, his eyes closing.

"You have to promise me Art, promise me you'll be what I need" 

He opens his eyes to look at you, while nodding furiously, his words coming out strong and desperate but also true "...I promise. I'll be everything you need..I'll do anything you need me to do." he gently leans into your touch and sighs in contentment when he feels your fingers rake through his hair, he looks up at you with pleading eyes and his hands rubs up and down your sides, "I'll do anything for you," he whispers.

You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he speaks, his words sincere and desperate. He's ready to give up everything he achieved if it means that he can be the man you need, the man that you want.

"Are you sure it's me that you want? You won't go back to tashi, will you?" he shakes his head quickly in response to your question, his grip on you tightens and tears continue to fall down his cheeks. He presses his lips to your stomach, still looking up at you when he pulls back to respond "it's you..I want you. I've only ever wanted you... you're it for me". 

His whisper comes out quiet again, hushed and vulnerable just like your entire relationship had always been.

He blinks and watches as his hands are pulled from your waist, a momentary feeling of fear rises in his chest and makes his breath stop before you catch his hands to pull him up to his feet, causing a small but relieved sigh to slip past his lips, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly returns the smile.

"I'm scared you'll regret it Art, I don't want you to throw your life away for me" your hands lay against his chest but his lips interrupts your thoughts immediately when they kiss away the tears on your cheeks. 

"This is anything but throwing my life away.." he laughs. 

He presses another kiss to your lips, softly, before he pulls back to look at you. 

"I'm just finally making the right choice" he whispers, his hands move down to cup your chin in his fingers: in your eyes there is a love Art never saw in Tashi's, is this what being loved feels like? he never felt so loved, so wanted in all the three years of marriage with Tashi. 

"I love you, I'll make you the happiest you can be" he promises and hugs you close to him, your eyes close and you finally feel like things will really change.

"I can't wait" you say, your smile finally sincere.

And so is his, eyes filled with hope and excitement. His mind is racing a million miles per hour as the gears turn to formulate a plan to make this happen. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips and he smiles against your mouth as he pulls back "I'll fix this, we'll make this work" and you finally believe him. 

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

First time writing smut I'm sorry it's really bad lol.

(do not copy or translate).

[acotarxreader]

Pancake

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Celebrating Feyre's 21st with a large party at the House of Wind proves to be quite triggering for you as you battle with the demons that followed you out of Under the Mountain.

Warnings: Panic attack (claustrophobia) followed by super fluff

A/N: This is really a cute fic, maybe one of my favourites. Reader has a panic attack so proceed with caution or don't at all if you think this may upset you! Let me know what you think!

P.S laughing that after Jilted I said I'd give you a more silly goofy fic and then produce this 👀 next one I promise!👀

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Fifty years. Fifty years you and Rhysand were separated from your family. Days dripping into weeks, into months, into years. Birthdays, Starfalls, and Solstices lost to the mountain. You had both been reunited with your family for a year now, your first Winter Solstice as a family again. You stood on the balcony watching your friends dance and drink and be free, Rhysand having thrown a large party for Feyre's 21st birthday. A genuine smile grew at the sight of such joy, all on their way to becoming whole again. Your eyes found Feyre and Rhysand drifting up the stairs towards a secluded balcony, your smile doubling in size at the mischievous grin plastering your cousin's face. 

“Don’t you look radiate YN” You turned to look down at Azriel at the bottom of the grand staircase. 

“Don’t I always Az” he nodded in agreement, closing in the distance between you, you had missed him deeply, never thinking you’d have the pleasure of dancing with your best friend again. Azriel had spent your time away from him in utter torment, echoed in his friend's mutual feelings of uselessness at the loss of the two of you.

“Azriel, there you are! Come watch the surprise with me, fireworks I believe” Elains little voice came from behind Azriel, he turned happily towards her, a pang of jealousy beating through you. Before the Mountain took you from your family you and Azriel were quickly developing into more but something cracked in you, you couldn’t find your way back to him when you were freed. He gave you the space you needed to recover and in that time found a new obsession in Elain and you accepted that you may never be fixed but Elain could be. 

“Would you like to come too YN?” you sensed the undertone of pity from Elain that Azriel would never see as anything other than her caring. You tried to keep the smile on your face, faltering for a moment before returning to full strength. 

“I’m actually going to get a drink from inside, but go ahead” You looked up at the night sky, such beauty you missed so much, Azriel looked at you with the same sentiment before following Elain back down the steps. 

You entered the House Of Wind through the gigantic doors, caterers frantically ran from place to place holding various trays and jugs. You ducked and dove avoiding the chaos, no one noticed you as you moved through the mayhem, your speciality. You took a flute of champagne from a passing tray before catching a glimpse of your face in a large silver serving dish. You looked tired, still not yourself a year later.

You headed into the closest bathroom in a service hallway, gently pining up fallen strands of hair. You sighed into the mirror of the small room, feeling the mask slip for a moment before you righted it again, forcing the fake smile so as not to make others uncomfortable.

Your hand moved to the door handle, shaking it gently when you found it did not give under your touch. You pushed the door, it solidly pushing back. You tried to squash the rising panic in your throat, this is fine this is fine this is fine you repeated over and over like a mantra in your mind.

You lowered yourself to look out the keyhole to find solid wood staring back at you. They had blocked you in with a large, solid, service trolley, wider than the door you tried to push through. You banged on the door with your palms, calling out for anyone, the shouts getting lost in the bedlam of the service hallway before it emptied entirely, the staff going to watch the show. 

You backed away from the oak, trying to catch your fleeting breath. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. The word roaring in your head, dizzying dread coming to a boiling point in you. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. 

Suddenly a loud bang was set off, and another and another. You found yourself collapsing to the freezing floor of the forgotten bathroom, screaming to match the pitch of the fireworks outside. You clung your knees into your chest before beginning to frantically paw your ears trying to stop the drumming. Your fingers matting into your hair, making it a knot in the chaos of trying to block the sound. You were hyperventilating as the fireworks came on with more fierceness. You were drowning. You were back Under The Mountain. You were back to being out of control. Back to being being kept deep within the earth, the sound of Fae being tortured mimicked in the booming fireworks.

“YN!” through the thick choking energy of your fear, a familiar voice came like a lifeboat in a storm but you were gone to the sea. Gone to the panic. Drowning. Drowning. Drowning. Steady, scared hands reached for your tangled hands pulling them from clawing your ears, out of blurry vision you saw the opened door, the towering service trolley smashed to the ground as Azriel clung to your hands. You tried to dive for the gap, off balance from the panic, unable to lift yourself from your seat, you fell onto your side on the tile, the thud of your chin echoing in Azriels ears. 

“YN! You’re okay you’re okay!” he pulled you upright and rubbed the back of your hands as your tormented eyes found him through the floods of tears. He counted quietly in rhythm, helping you to steady your breathing but the flashbacks of that horrid place and great loss ran through your mind like a runaway train. This was Azriel. Azriel. Azriel. This was home. Home. You were home. Another booming firework was set off, plunging you back to being drowned. Azriel stood, plucking you from the ground like a discarded rag doll before he dissolved you both in shadows. 

The two of you landed with control on the bridge that crossed the Sidra. The sound of the fireworks merely bursts in the distance. Your hands lay flat on the cold stone of the bridge and then you were violently ill, vomiting into the rushing river below as Azriel rubbed your back with one hand and held your hair gently in the other. You then sailed to the ground, your back resting against the freezing stone, waves of panic replaced with equal volumes of exhaustion. Silence swaddled you like comfort, shadows softly sweeping away stray tears as they fell. You found a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth at them, Azriel’s muscles relaxing at the sight.

“Thank you Az” you managed to breathe out.

“Please don’t thank me, it's my job to-to protect you” You rolled your head along the stone to look towards the shadowsingers soft gaze. You leaned into his side, gazing up to your beloved Velarian sky, your heart rate returning to softening levels. 

“YN ho-how often does that happen you?”

“More than I want to admit Az, I feel like I haven’t slept in 50 years” you admitted, his hand wrapping into yours.

“Go back to the party Az, Elain will be wondering where you ran to”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you, c’mon let's walk home” he smiled, standing and pulling you up to meet him, his hand slotting in around your waist to support your weakened legs. You both began to stroll in the direction of Azriel’s disused apartment, more often than not he opted to stay in The House of Wind or the Town House rather than sleep alone in his house. But tonight, those places were in the thick of the loud celebration, his secluded apartment on the other side of the Sidra a haven from the revelry. You didn’t object to this knowing you hadn’t it in you to go back into the bustling city. 

You followed Azriel into his small studio apartment, and he immediately set about cleaning the space you hadn’t been in in 51 years. 

“Sorry for the mess” He threw stray clothes into a basket as you looked around the place you didn’t think you’d ever see again, the mess of forgotten projects and clothes a new feature for the normally regimented Illyrian. 

“I umm didn’t come here much when you were-when you were gone” he admitted before flicking his wrist and the sheets of the bed changed. 

“Why not? You used to love to brood up here” you grinned, sitting on the edge of the soft cotton sheets. Azriel threw his suit jacket over a chair and began rolling his shirt sleeves up, without taking his eyes from you, his own smile matching yours. You suddenly felt conscious of the mess of now matted hair and make-up down your face, your hand wiping the smudges of kohl away from under your eye. 

“To be honest YNN, it felt wrong here without you, the whole of Velaris did” he crossed the room to the dresser, reaching into the top drawer to pull out one of your night sets.

“I can’t believe you still have some of my things here”

“I kept them for when you would come back…I never let myself think that you weren’t coming back to me” You took the set from him, smiling softly before moving to change in the bathroom, leaving the door open as Azriel threw a pillow for himself on the couch, snapping his fingers and changing into his own night attire. He tried not to let his eyes linger on you as you moved towards his bed for the first time in forever before you layed down in the buttery sheets.

“Az-Can you-Can you sleep here next to me, I know it might be weir-” You didn’t get to finish as Azriel needed no further invitation, sinking into the bed alongside you. He merely snapped his fingers and the lights dropped only to have one in the corner of the room stayed lit for your comfort. 

“Are you feeling okay YNN?”

“Mmm, thanks for leaving the light on” you hummed in response.

"It's for me as much as you, I share you're sentiment about being kept in the dark" you nuzzled gently into his side at his heartbreaking words and for the first time in so long you knew you’d sleep with nothing but ease.

“I missed you so much my love” He whispered into your hair, sleep taking full hold of you as he kissed your forehead and found yourselves sleeping the best he had in 51 years. 

-

For the rest of the night you both stayed in cuddled bliss, the world going on around you but the only place that mattered was the world you had both made in his apartment. 

The light came through the slots of the blinds hitting his eyes as he woke and rested his chin on the top of your head as you were deeply cuddled into him, the clock showing 8:30am. He gently pulled from you as you groaned but still unable to open you’re world-weary eyes. 

-

You shot up in the bed to the sound of a crash, for a moment forgetting where you were only to laugh at the recoiling Illyrian holding a frying pan while wincing in the kitchen across from you, his wings coated in a thin layer of flour. 

“What the fuck Az?” you found yourself laughing before rubbing your hands down your face and glancing at the clock as it showed 10am.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to be be cute!” You raised an eyebrow, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and standing. Your mouth fell open at the full sight of the destroyed kitchen. Every single surface covered in various baking ingredients. You walked cautiously towards the floury disarray before looking into a bowl of what you presumed started as pancakes. You attempted to move the whisk in the batter, it stuck to the bowl like a stick in cement. 

“Az, what possessed you to try to poison me?” you laughed so heartily it made Azriels heart leap. 

“I was trying to comfort you” he genuinely seemed embarrassed, your hand going to his cheek, wiping away flour freckles. 

“I love that you’re such an adorable dork” You shook your head gently grinning. 

“I love you” Your hand slowly dropped from his face in almost shock at his words. 

“I love you so fucking much YN, I hated myself every day you were gone for not saying it and for the past year I wanted to but I didn’t want to add to any stress you might be holding on to-”

“-You could never make me stress Az…unless you make me eat this” you laughed and his eyes beamed at the sound he wished to only hear for the rest of his life. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he happily leaned into the kiss. Home. This was home and this was Azriel. 

“I love you too” you breathed against his lips, his hands meeting your hips before dropping to the backs of your legs and lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrapped around him as you caught hold of his t-shirt, deepening the kiss further, for the first time in a year you felt the deep crack in your soul begin to stitch together again. The kiss grew hungrier as Azriel angled you to hover you above the counter before gently putting you down. 

“ARGH!” you shrieked as the freezing cold pancake batter he put you down on soaked immediately through your shorts. You leapt from the counter with lightning speed, trying to pull the fabric from your skin as Azriel roared with laughter. 

“Something funny flour face?” you said through rising laughter as Azriel tried to collect himself. 

“If you get a chance do you think you could take some of the batter off your shorts and make breakfast” you lightly scoffed at his words before taking a fist of batter and clapping it right into his chest. 

“Oh you’re so dead YN!” he howled at the cold through tears of laughter, grabbing the bowl and proceeding to chase you around his house, your home. 

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Hehe, whatcha think!

[novemberheart]

{overview} You put your omega instincts to good use. It’s time to face John

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, slight gore, cursing, mentions of death, slight panic attacks, injuries

Chapter 27 <- Chapter 28 -> Chapter 29

You were thankful Johnny knew what to do. You were nothing but a thorn in the side. Your hands gripped onto the back of his T-shirt as he led you around. Anais happily agreed to watch Vernie, squeezing you tightly in assurance.

Your heart sank when he stopped in front of a helicopter.

“Mac, please tell me what's happening,” you pleaded, keeping your voice strong.

“Just need you to be a good omega for me and follow what I say,” he reasoned back. His hand hadn't left the waistband of your pants, and you were beginning to feel sick from the way he moved you around. “Up you go,” he urged, basically lifting you onto the helicopter with one arm.

You needed to get out of your funk. This is what gave omegas a bad name. The inability to respond quickly when in an unknown situation. You would just have to be strong. Interestingly enough your brain repeated Simon's words like a mantra.

“You’re just as brave and stupid as the rest of us.”

Hopefully, you could avoid the stupid. Yet the sentiment didn't go unnoticed. It was just another way Simon was affirming you were a part of the pack. Their pack. You were chosen for a reason.

You were a part of their pack. It was time you started to act like it.

You grabbed the straps yourself before Johnny could buckle you in, strapping yourself in as tight as you could. It caught him a bit off guard, his hands stalling for a moment, before taking his own seat as close to you as he could.

“It’s Kyle isn't it?” you pressed. You had to yell for him to hear you.

“It is,” Johnny affirmed. “He’ll be fine. Nothin’ a little you can't fix,” Johnny soothed.

“You’re getting cocky, Gaz,” John spoke, making Kyle’s lips quirk up into a smirk.

“You find a reason for me not to be, sir?” He shot back. His dress shoes were quiet against the tile floor. If it wasn’t for his voice you wouldn’t even know he was there.

“Enough with the banter, boys,” Laswell sighed. “You two should be home already,” she adde. It caught them both off guard, their bodies tensing and stomach turning. Your face popped into their head. Kyle’s face scrunched as a pang shot through him. “Sorry,” Laswell added, feeling their mood shift. Ever since you, home has been a touchy subject. Sometimes home wasn’t always four walls.

“S’alright,” John spoke, clearing his throat. It had been especially hard for the alpha leaving after what had transpired. While he had made slight amends with you, it was hard to get back into your good graces halfway across the world. John shut his eyes tightly from his spot on the roof. He took a deep breath nearly able to smell the fresh peaches and warm vanilla. He could feel your hands gripping his shoulders and the way your skin molded perfectly against his. He could feel your cheek against his and the giggle that brushed across his ear when his beard would tickle you. He growled low in his throat, his eyes fluttering open.

They needed to get home.

“Got eyes on them?” He spoke, his voice rumbling through the comms. Kyle didn’t say a word. They were close. “Lead them out the back alley if you can,” he kept his voice low.

As if on cue the backdoor opened, two tall men wearing black suits walked out, with two more behind them dressed in perfectly tailored blue suits. John rolled his eyes. Could they be anymore obvious? A woman turned down the alley making John curse. Would be hard to shoot four people with a witness.

“There’s a woman. See if you can steer her away,” John mumbled, eyeing them through the scope. Kyle entered the alley, dressed as a waiter, pointing for the woman to turn around.

“Sorry miss, but we have a delivery truck comin’ in. You’ll be trapped,” He explained, waving his hand.

“That’s alright,” She smiled. Kyle immediately felt his stomach drop his hands moving on instinct as her hand reached to her side. He dodged her, his hand able to get a good grip on the back of her sweater tossing her towards the men. The knife clattered from her hand against the ground. Kyle didn't bother to go for it, the gun tucked into his coat getting the job done quicker. Kyle took out three of them, John taking out the other two.

“Good work,” John praised. Kyle exhaled, ready to begin his trek down the alley before something caught his eye. It was the woman, lying face down against the street.

Her hair matched yours.

She had a similar build. You even had a sweater that same color. It made his stomach turn, his mind easily replacing her with you.

“Kyle?” It was commanding and concerned. “You need to get out of there,” John pressed. Kyle’s body erupted in goosebumps, his feet finally catching up with his brain. He began to walk forward, the urge to look back one last time irrefutable.

“Can't just leave her here,” Kyle said finally. He opened his mouth to continue, but the sight had made him sick. He turned his head towards the trash can, bile rising up his throat. John opened his mouth ready to rip him a new one, yet his words got caught as well. It was like he had forgotten where he was, his brows furrowing at the idea of you being there.

Why were you in the street? He winced, the reasoning behind Kyle’s actions as clear as day.

“She’s at home safe,” John reasoned. He could see Kyle wipe his face with his sleeve and nod.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know.”

“Get out of there,” John repeated. Kyle agreed silently, heading back into the restaurant.

“Fuckin’ over this shit,” Kyle growled, pacing back and forth in front of the alpha. “Another bloody week?” he continued. The alpha’s hands reached out, gripping the back of Kyle’s shoulders.

“The timeline isn't definite,” John reminded, pulling the fired-up man against him. John felt heated against him- a true sign of how equally upset he was. “The more we keep our heads on the quicker we can get home.”

Sometimes home wasn't always four walls.

“Definite? Could be longer then,” Kyle snarled, rolling his shoulders out of John’s grasp.

“What do they expect anyway? They constantly push for every pack to have an omega and then don't make proper adjustments for it. What will we do when she's marked and she marks us? I won't be able to be away from her longer than a month and you’ll only be able to last around two weeks.” Kyle ranted. They had been gone two weeks- now they were expected to be gone for another whole week. It felt longer than that. Each day dragging on like an anchor in the sand.

“They make pills for things like that now,” John sighed, running a hand over his face. His beta was justified in his anger, but it would just be easier to push feelings aside and get the job done. “She’s not home alone either. Johnny’s keepin’ her safe,” he added.

John’s phone went off. He grumbled, digging in his pocket moving towards the door. He acknowledged something, hanging up in one motion. “Get your vest on. We are leaving,” He commanded.

Every minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like a lifetime. You had finally landed in a hospital just outside of Kavala. The helicopter ride hadn’t lasted long and you and Johnny had to hop onto a passenger airplane. It was early afternoon when you had arrived.

At least it was warm. Kyle would appreciate that.

“Garrick, Kyle,” Johnny spoke. The woman at the desk clacked against her computer.

“Not ready yet,” she replied bluntly. “He needs more time,” she explained.

“He’s my beta,” you growled before you could stop yourself.

“Marked him?” She questioned. Your face curled. You could be bonded without marking him.

“She did,” Johnny lied. The woman eyed you both before pushing her rolling chair against one of her coworkers. They whispered to each other looking between the two of you.

“Follow,” she commanded, getting up from her chair. You breathed out, your hand giving Johnny’s a squeeze. The hospital was nice. Not as sterile and cold as the one on base.

You were hot on her heels as she weaved her way through the halls, an evil sounding whine leaving you when she would stop and chat to a coworker. Some people just couldn’t read the room.

She stopped in front of a door and you gripped the handle without permission, nearly pushing her out of the way. You didn’t even notice John sitting in the hallway. You walked into the room, your hand gripping the curtain around the bed.

“Next one,” the nurse corrected harshly. You couldn’t blame her for her tone. He was in the bed closest to the window. A whimper left you as you pulled the curtain back.

“Kyky,” you mumbled, already clawing at your eyes. The blanket was pulled above his shoulders, the skin that was exposed wet and feverish. His face looked the same, besides a scrape against his jaw.

You got to work.

You could already tell his leg was in a cast. You pulled the blanket to his waist. His whole torso was covered in red spotted bandages, his arm in a sling against his chest. You pulled both the room and window curtain back, so he could feel the sun against his skin. That would make him feel better. You went over to a cabinet pulling out the smallest towel you could find, using the water fountain in the hallway to wet it. You still hadn’t noticed the distraught alpha in the hallway. Your distraught alpha. John watched you carefully, the ache in his chest crippling as you went about your business without so much as a glance. He pushed that away. All that mattered was that Kyle got the care he needed. John let himself sink against Johnny as they sat in the hallway. The Scot’s soft blue eyes understanding and assuring.

“I missed you two,” John said finally.

“We missed you,” Johnny affirmed. “She’s been havin’ a hard time sleepin’. Been hard on her, having both her alphas gone,” Johnny sighed.

“You’ve done a good job takin’ care of her,” John said, his throat tightening. “Is she still….” John trailed off. Johnny knew what he was referring to. The Scot pressed his lips against the alpha stiff shoulder.

“I think she still thinks about it. Especially with everyone being away it’s easy to let her mind wander. Being close to you- being reminded of how much you love her will shake any doubts she might have,” Johnny explained. John relaxed. That is exactly what he needed to hear. A lone tear fled from his eye and he rubbed it away with his thumb. One of the most common misconceptions about Johnny was that emotions flew over his head. Whilst the man was brash and impulsive, he felt everything so deeply and he always knew what to say in the aide of others.

You washed as much of Kyle as you could without disrupting him.

He knew you were there.

You could feel it. His muscles twitched, despite the medicine in his system, like something inside him was trying to claw its way out to get to you. You could hear the clatter of shoes against the floor, not paying much mind until then entered the room. It was a nurse, one that you could already tell knew what she was doing. She was an alpha. You could tell by her square shoulders and frown lines.

“You got here fast. That is good,” her accent was strong, but her pronunciation was perfect. She eyed the curtains that had been pulled back and the wet cloth on your hands. “You have strong instincts. That is good, knowing what your beta needs to get better,” she praised. “He has a fractured leg, an overstretched ligament in his shoulder, and multiple lacerations across his abdomen,” she explained.

“How long will he be asleep?” you questioned. While you had heard the information it was like your brain rejected it. You didn't want to hear what had happened, just how you could fix him. Asking how long he would be asleep felt manageable. Something you could prepare for.

“Whenever the anesthesia wears off,” She responded curtly. “For these types of injuries, we recommend keeping as close as possible to him. He needs to know you are here,” she spoke, brushing past you. She pushed down the rail of the side of the bed and pushed a button on the headboard. The bed expanded on the left side and you took a few steps back to allow it some room. “You can sleep here,” she patted the newly extended portion. “I suggest skin-on-skin contact. That may be a little hard due to injuries but it can be something as small as resting your hand here,” she pointed to his rising chest. “There are blankets in the cabinet. You might be tempted to get some softer blankets from the store around the corner, but it'll be best if you’re a little uncomfortable. Your discomfort will heighten his instincts and spur on the healing process,” she reminded, opening the cabinet you had just dug through. “I’ll be back when he wakes up,” she said, not bothering to look over her shoulder.

“Thank you!” you called after her. You sighed, heading for the papery thin sheet from the cabinet. You crawled onto the bed, using it to cover both you and Kyle. You pressed your cheek against his bare shoulder, inhaling deeply. Fresh linen, mixed with a slight salty breeze from his sweat. “I love you,” you mumbled against him. Your fingers brushed against his side and you resisted the urge to throw yourself against him and bury yourself as far into him as you could. You settled for wrapping around his good arm, resting it between your thighs just like he always slept.

It wasn't long before you drifted off to sleep.

John and Johnny entered shortly after, wanting to make sure you had enough time to get settled. John growled at the state of you. Your tired form shaking from nerves and low temperature. Your eyes rubbed raw, and your hair knotted and unkempt. Your cheeks heated from a slight fever. You always got fevers when you were upset. You've probably had one for weeks. He dug into the bag Johnny had brought with him, pulling out one of the blankets he had packed you.

“Ya heard what the nurse sai”-

“Kyle would murder us if he found out we let her suffer at his expense,” John cut him off. “Besides after what he's been through he’ll want to wake up to her being as comfortable as possible.” John tucked you in, making sure the blanket was rolled up to your neck and chin.

“Her jellyfish is next to her socks,” Johnny added. John dug into the bag again, tucking it under the covers with you.

“What happened?” Johnny worked up the nerve to press.

John sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His knuckles brushed up and down your side, adjusting the blanket again.

“Car crash,” John sighed. “He was in a car that was headin’ towards a warehouse. It was intercepted,” He explained through gritted teeth. Johnny grumbled under his breath, adjusting in his seat.

“We know by who?” He pressed. John hummed in agreement.

“I was in the car behind ‘em. It's been handled,” He assured. Johnny stood, gripping the back of the alpha’s neck pulling him against him. John rested his head against Johnny’s stomach, his hand gripping his shirt. Johnny's hands ran up and down his back, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles.

“You’re exhausted. Need to sleep,” Johnny reasoned. He pulled away from him, setting up a small area on the floor for them to sleep. They've slept on worse.

You woke up slowly. The room was dark. Too dark. You whimpered quietly, causing shuffling in the corner.

“You alright?” John rasped. A purr echoed through your body before you could stop it, the sound pure instinct. “Sweet girl,” he groaned, more to himself than anything. A hand rested on the top of your head, dragging down your back, dipping under the familiar softness of your blanket. You tried to remind yourself you were still hurt by him, yet the addicting warmth of his hand against your skin had you melting into the bed. “Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, leaning forward, his lips pressed against your hairline. “Both did,” he added, pressing you closer to Kyle. You whimpered out, your hands finding their way to his face, his beard tickling against your skin just like how you remembered. His chest rumbled with a sad sound, his face making a beeline straight to your neck, pressing his way between your shoulder and jaw. “I’m sorry I had to leave when I did,” he said softly. His teeth ached being so close to your neck. All he had to do was bite down and you would be his forever. Connected and bound together. He was tempted to do it while you were letting him be so close to you.

“John?” you whispered, your nails digging into his biceps. A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. God, he missed you. He hummed in response, his cheek pressed against yours. “You don't wish I was someone else….do you?” you asked softly. His heart fell into his stomach, a familiar uneasiness falling over him. How could you even think that? “I just don't want you to wish you had picked someone different th”-

A sharp growl cuts you off, your body being pressed further into the mattress.

“Pull your head out of your arse, pretty,” he growled against your cheek. Your eyes widened and you tried to move your head to look at him. “Remember the first time we met? You walked in and the door blew your scent right in my face. Wanted to make you mine right there. One scent, one look, one word and I knew you were mine. Nothin’ll waver that,” his tone was passionate and slightly desperate, offering you no room for disagreement. He had never shown you he had wanted someone else or that he was unhappy with you in any way.

You just needed to hear it from him.

Sorry for the late update! Chapter 29 will be posted in three days! 🧡😊

[lostgirlmuseum]

The Signal

Made this using images from Pinterest ^ Word Count: 6.1k 

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: You and Bucky get separated from the team after an unfortunate mishap, of which Bucky blames you. Except you’re not at fault! You thought… you aren’t too sure anymore.

A/N: Thank you all so much for all of the positivity on my first fic, I am actually BLOWN AWAY. You are all so kind!! I actually started writing this all the way back in February of 2022, but seeing the response gave me the motivation to finally finish it. 

Warnings: Nothing absolutely horrible, just a bit of angst and fluff(?), plus a little gaslighting and violence.

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“Everything is going to be okay. We’re fine. Everything is fine. Everything–” She repeated the mantra over and over again, not quite believing it.

“Will you shut up?” Bucky growled. 

Only an hour prior had both of them been sneaking through a dense forest and scoping out a running ex-HYDRA base deep in the frozen woods. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, and Y/N were used to missions like this, except this one required a higher level of subtlety and a successful sneak attack was critical. Their intel informed them that the base was rigged to blow if any unrecognized technology was detected, including any disturbances in the radio waves. Because of this, they all turned off their communications signals once they approached the range of the base. At least, they were supposed to.

“I’m just trying to keep myself from freaking out.” She grumbled, slightly trailing behind Bucky as they crunched through the brittle layer of snow.

“Why? You should be freaking out. You should very much be freaking out right now. Considering we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no connection to anyone who can help, and I’m stuck with you.” He recognized he was being cruel, but he didn’t have the strength to stop.

“It wasn’t my fault!” 

“The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the better.” Bucky responded without even looking over his shoulder. He hadn’t looked at her for the majority of their trek to the nearest safe house since they got separated from the rest of the group by the explosion.

“This is not my damn fault! I turned off my signal, just like Steve told us to.” She struggled to keep up with him, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t show him any weakness–he’d just use it against her.

“Except you didn’t!”

“How are you so sure it was me? There were five of us!” She awkwardly jogged to get a bit ahead of him, and turned around to face him as she walked backward. “What makes you think it wasn’t you?”

“Please, like I would ever be so careless.” His gaze remained on the terrain ahead, and it looked like the trees of the woods were starting to thin out, signaling an exit soon.

“And I would?”

“Yes! Yes, you would. I knew from the start it was a bad idea to take you along. You can’t even follow simple instructions like turning off a signal.” He managed to pass her again, leaving her to struggle to stay next to him. He saw out of the corner of his eye her pointing a finger at him.

“I’m trying really hard not to take your attitude personally. You’ve been acting like a dick for the past week, but I’m sick of it.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sweetheart?” He finally glanced at her. 

“Yes.”

“Why? Is it reserved for Steve?” Bucky’s eyes quickly returned to the path in front of him.

“What are you on about?” Genuine confusion laced her voice, but her question went unanswered as they reached a block in their path. 

“Y’know your genius safe house plan?” Bucky gestured to the map balled up in her hand, the thing they had been using to guide them to safety. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“This can’t be right,” she shook her head, quickly unfolding the map, “maybe we got turned around.”

“Just look up.” 

She followed Bucky’s gaze to the sky, at which she finally realized the ridiculousness of their situation. They were stranded at the bottom of a steep cliff, which looked to stand nearly a hundred feet in the sky.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Because who the fuck puts a safe house on top of a cliff? “There’s got to be an elevator or something, there’s no way we’re expected to climb this.”

They both scanned the base of the cliff, looking for any indication of a secret passage to the top. She ran her hand along the jagged rock and ice, and bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on the wall, eventually spotting a thick rope among a couple vines. 

“Shit.” 

Her voice gained Bucky’s attention, and he looked over to see her holding not one, but two ropes, each attached to a relatively large weaved basket. It wasn’t quite big enough for the two of them, but one person could definitely fit. 

“After you,” he mocked, gesturing to the basket that was meant to work as a (sketchy as hell) pulley system.

Instead of answering, she merely pointed to the inside of the damp basket. Bucky peered his head over to see the bottom had completely fallen apart, leaving a gaping hole where a person would supposedly stand. 

“Looks like we’re climbing.” Bucky sighed.

“I can’t–” 

“Afraid of heights?” He snapped.

“No, but–” 

“Good. Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” 

He grabbed a knife from his belt and efficiently cut both sides of the rope from the basket. She watched, dumbfounded, as he took one rope and tied it around his waist. Then, he gave the rope a hard tug, and satisfied by the lack of give, turned to his belt and grabbed three more knives. He grabbed duct tape out of his tac pants, and expertly taped one knife to the bottom of each shoe. Finally, he tossed her the duct tape, knowing she already had her own knives. She watched both impressed and annoyed as he firmly stuck his feet as best he could into the ice and rock of the cliff, and used the other knives in his hands as leverage.

He made it about ten feet up before glancing back down to see she hadn’t moved.

“Are you coming or what?” The impatience of his voice stung almost as much as the cold did her nose. 

She looked at him, then the rope, and then the knives attached to her legs, before making a move. Unlike Bucky, her combat boots came equipped with hidden spikes that could be used for climbing (although she had never used them for such activity, and normally used them as a treat when fighting, basking in the pride of catching her enemies off guard with a swift kick and metal spike to the face, groin, etc). She adjusted the spikes to be poking out of the toe of her boots, and tried not to think as she grabbed the second rope and knotted it around her waist. 

Ignoring her left hand, she grabbed only one knife opposed to Bucky’s two, and stabbed it into the ice. She cautiously looked down at her feet as she began her climb, and looked back up at her hand as she found purchase a foot above her head. Already exhausted from the fighting and explosion earlier, she winced at the tension in her right arm as she pulled herself up. 

At the slow pace she was going, Bucky was already 15 feet in the air by the time she was 3 feet off the ground.

Bucky looked down to see her far behind, and raised an eyebrow when he saw her climbing with only one hand.

“You’re supposed to use both hands, you know?” He mocked.

She rolled her eyes, but said nothing, as she let her left hand join her right hand on the handle of the knife protruding from the rock. Bucky noticed her silent grimace as she successfully pulled herself up to the next level. He continued to watch as she stiffly removed her right foot from the wall and placed it above her left foot, before once again grabbing the single knife with both her hands and pulling for a second before letting out an agonizing cry.

Out of curiosity more than frustration, he called down.

“What’s going on down there?” 

She briefly looked up at him before looking back at the ground, “I can’t climb.”

“Missed the training day on it?” 

His sarcasm went unappreciated as she growled.

“My wrist is broken, asshole.”

Her wrist is broken, and she’s climbing? What is she thinking?

“And you’re still trying to climb? You should’ve told me.” 

“I fucking tried telling you! But everytime I try to say something, you interrupt me! Constantly! Besides, what’s the point in telling you if you’re just going to brush it off?”

Bucky swiftly removed the knives in his hands from the cliff, and held onto his rope, before half-hopping and half-climbing down the wall to the ground.

“Bucky, just go,” she sighed, “I’ll figure something else out. I’m not going to be a burden on you.”

She said it in part because, yes, she didn’t want to burden him, but also because she didn’t want to hear his whiny complaints.

He ignored her protests and gently reached for her left hand, inspecting the incredibly swollen wrist. He winced at her soft whimper. He let go and simply looked at her.

“Hop down.” 

She didn’t like that he was ordering her around, but his voice was void of any emotion, and out of curiosity and self preservation skills, she obeyed.

“C’mon.” Bucky turned around so his back faced her.

After a couple moments of silence, he looked over his shoulder to see her face twisted in confusion.

“C’mon now, just get on.” He repeated, squatting down a bit more. “You’re going to have to hold on tight.”

Ignoring the absurdity of the situation, she did her best to climb onto his back, at which point he gently grabbed her non-injured arm and wrapped it around his neck to encourage her to not be afraid to cling to him.

After what likely was about twenty minutes of climbing in utter silence, minus the whipping of the cool wind, Bucky made the mistake of looking down. The good news was that they were almost at the top–probably about a quarter of the climb left. The bad news was that meant that they had already climbed about 75 feet, and despite Bucky’s fearless persona, he was not fearless.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

“What’s wrong?” She rested her chin on his right shoulder.

“Nothing… I just didn’t realize how high up we were.” He grimaced the moment he said it. He’d shown weakness. He’d given her ammo. “Gonna make fun of me now?” He started to shake just a little, and prayed that she would assume it was because of the cold and not his anxiety…even though it had been cold for the entirety of the climb.

“No.” She stated.

His head started to spin from the memories. He tried to push through it, but all he could think about was the first time he was this high up. It was as cold as this too. He felt as his left arm subconsciously twitched. 

The first time I was this high up, I still had two human arms.

A sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“I think I can see the compound from here.” 

It was a stupid joke, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You know, I’m pretty scared of the ocean.” She continued.

He didn’t respond, unsure of where she was going with this. He continued to pull themselves up.

“Just deep water in general scares me. My brother always made fun of me for it.” 

Don’t look down, Bucky. Don’t look–

“One time when I was like–fifteen? I think? My family took a trip to this really big lake. We got on one of those pontoon boats and went out into the water.”

He was glad that she was so close to him, otherwise the whipping of the wind would’ve been too loud to hear her calming voice.

“My brother thought he was really funny, and told me to look over the edge of the boat while we were still in motion.”

He tried to grunt to indicate he was listening, but no noise came out.

“He pushed me right as my dad started speeding up. I fell in, and freaked out. Especially as I watched the boat leave me behind.”

He continued to listen to her and focused on her voice, and the vibrations. Her tone was casual, but he couldn’t help but sense she was telling him a secret.

“Luckily, my mom saw what happened, and got my dad to turn around.” She chuckled. “He claimed he was trying to help me get over my fear. But I got my revenge later that day, so it was fine.”

“What’d you do?” Bucky finally spoke up.

“Well, he’s afraid of peanut butter.” She tried to shrug, despite having one arm around his neck and the other hanging limply. 

“Do you mean allergic?”

“No, I mean afraid. The stuff freaks him out. He won’t go near it. He’s weird like that.” She sighed in remembrance, and continued.

“So once we got back to the house I grabbed some peanut butter, and slathered it into his hair when he wasn’t looking.”

Bucky looked up again and was surprised to see how close they were to the top. When did that happen?

“He screamed so loud–it was hilarious.” She smiled. “He ran to take a shower, flailing around and being dramatic. ‘Mom! She put peanut butter in my hair! My hair! Mommy, get it out!’” 

Worried that Bucky was judging her, she quickly added,

“He was seventeen at the time, by the way.”

Still no answer.

“I don’t think he’s forgiven me yet.” She whispered more to herself than Bucky, but he still nodded as he grabbed at the top of the cliff.

“We’re here.” Bucky didn’t mean for his voice to come across gruff, but the cold wasn’t helping his throat. 

“Thank you for carrying me.” She smiled once she had both feet on the ground. It didn’t reach her eyes, but he could still tell she meant it.

Slightly embarrassed, Bucky attempted to grumble out a ‘Thank you for distracting me,’ but he wasn’t sure she heard it.

Come on, you can do better than that Barnes. Just apologize to her, he thought.

“Listen, I know I’ve been acting like a–”

Bucky’s words were cut off by a mysterious and sudden mangled…shriek?

“Oh my God, Bucky.” She patted his arm to get him to turn around.

He obliged, and his eyes became saucers when he saw what had made the noise. 

At the top of the cliff was a partially snowy but also grassy plateau, inhabited by a herd of roaming goats. So, so many goats. 

“Look at all the goats!” She gasped.

Right as she had said it, one goat had snuck up to them and started biting at Bucky’s prosthetic. 

“Get off,” he quelled his shock and grumbled as he shook the animal off of his hand.

“Aw, it likes you.” She giggled, falling to her knees to pet the goat—more like ‘goats’, plural, because the animals seemed to multiply, and fast. 

“Let’s get inside. We need to fix that wrist.”

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Beside the disturbingly large population of goats, and the absurd location of the safe house, the house itself was fine. Well, it was shaped more like a barn, but it was decorated like a house. After coaxing Y/N away from the “adorable” (her words, not Bucky’s) goats, and inside, Bucky led Y/N to the forest green rug where he had started a fire in the fireplace. 

When he finished briefly looking around, Bucky grabbed some ice that had frozen outside the barn and wrapped it in a cloth from the kitchen. With her permission, Bucky carefully placed the ice pack where he saw the most bruising around her wrist. 

“So,” Bucky had settled himself across from her, so they could face each other as they talked. He couldn’t help the pang of sadness he felt as she stood up and backed away to sit on the couch.

She wouldn’t move away if I were Steve, he thought, staring into the fire. They’d probably cuddle up together like they do on the couch during movie nights at the tower. 

Y/N didn’t want to move away from Bucky, especially now that he was being amicable again. But the heat from the flames was melting the ice that cradled her wrist, and she didn’t want to add ‘soggy’ to her list of problems.

“So?” She asked, noticing Bucky never finished his thought.

“I’m just thinking about the logistics of this. There’s a high possibility we could be stuck here anywhere from a week to a month. Your signal was fried in the blast too, right?”

She nodded, and released her right hand from holding the ice, letting it balance on her wrist, as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her signal. Definitely fried. 

He pulled out his own signal from where he had kept it in his pants pocket, and showed her how it was crushed. “Well, without our signals, our team can’t track us. We just have to hope that they’ll figure out that we made it to a safe house, and that they don’t check this one last. Because I’m pretty sure there are at least two more safehouses dedicated to the vicinity of the Hydra base, right?”

She nodded. “We got unlucky with this one.”

“First thing we need to worry about,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to gain her attention, “is food. I looked at the kitchen pretty quickly and there’s not that much stuff stocked. A couple cans of beans, and such. Not nearly enough for how long we’re going to be here though. So unless we want to climb back down again, and see if we can find any food anywhere…”

She squinted and tilted her head as if she was a confused puppy.

“We’re going to have to kill a goat.” He finished.

Her eyes went comically wide. “I am not letting you kill Cheetoh!”

Bucky shook his head, exasperated, “You’ve already named them?”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The longer they were there, the worse the winds got. But that didn’t stop Bucky from hearing the strange overlap of whipping winds, leading him to lean into the noise from his spot on the couch. 

“Do you hear that?” Bucky nudged her.

“It sounds like the wind got a lot worse,” She nodded.

“No, something’s off.”

At Bucky’s concern, Y/N got up off the couch and beat him to the doors. She looked at Bucky, who stood directly behind her, before pushing hard to get the sliding door to budge. Instantly the biting cold attacked them again, and she had to place her right arm over her forehead to keep her hair from whipping into her eyes. Everything outside seemed to be an array of grays, until she was able to spot a shadowy figure emerge from the settling fog. A person appeared, as well as a helicopter.

“Sam?” She called, hoping her voice carried far enough to be heard above the wind.  

“Y/N! Bucky! Thank god you guys are okay,” Sam called back, and was quickly met by Y/N who had run the rest of the distance to meet him. Bucky was shortly behind. 

“I’ve never been so happy to see your face, Sam.” She giggled, setting her right hand appreciatively on his shoulder. 

Quickly spotting Steve exiting the chopper, Bucky hid a scowl as he watched Y/N light up and bound over to the bundled up blond, while calling, “Steve!” He wished he had looked away before seeing her pull him in for a hug.

Wanting to distance himself from the interaction, Bucky stood by Sam.

“How did you find us so fast?” Bucky shook his head, and raised his voice, as the wind started to pick up again. 

“My signal, man.” Sam yelled back, despite being three feet apart. 

“What?” Bucky wondered if he heard him right. 

Sam reached into the left pocket of Bucky’s under jacket, and pulled out a small familiar looking device. 

Bucky felt a punch to the gut as he suddenly remembered.

The group had just landed the quinjet deep into the forest. They couldn’t land too close to the base and risk setting off alarms, so they settled for a three mile hike away. Bucky and Sam were meant to approach from the north side, while Steve, Natasha, and Y/N planned to approach from the south side, so the group split off after the jet to take opposite round-a-bout paths. It was about two miles left to go when Sam started complaining. 

“Dude, does this thing actually fit in your ear?” Sam gestured to the communications device in his hand. “Because it keeps falling out. It’s getting on my nerves.”

Bucky gave a short grunt, which Sam translated to a ‘yes, it does fit in my ear.’

“I can’t,” Sam finally huffed, “I give up. I don’t have any pockets, can you hold this so I don’t lose it?” 

Simply wishing for Sam to shut up, he obliged, and shoved the tiny device into his pocket for safe keeping. Neither of them thought to turn it off first, because in their minds, and past experiences, it always stays turned on in the field. Excluding the moments when people turn them off in acts of defiance. 

About a mile later, both men heard a small rustling to their right. In hindsight, it was probably just a rabbit, but Sam suggested he go check it out, just in case. That’s what led to the two splitting up, but Bucky wasn’t worried. He knew that if there was a problem, Sam would’ve made it clear immediately. He also knew that Sam knew his way to the base all on his own. 

Bucky arrived at his location at the same time that Steve’s voice buzzed in his ear. At this point, the extra signal was long forgotten. 

“We’re in position.” Steve’s voice rattled. 

“10-4.” Bucky responded. 

“Alright, going dark now. Turn off your comms, let’s go.” 

Steve’s voice was followed by the soft beep of Bucky’s signal as he turned it off. 

He didn’t realize Sam’s signal was still active in his pocket.

“It was just bad luck dude, don’t feel too bad. I should’ve turned it off before I gave it to you, and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d turn it off yourself.” Sam tried to hide his pity with a half-smile.

“I–I was the leak?” Bucky whispered right as the wind started to calm again. He stared at the small device as Sam hid it in the pocket of his own coat. If only Sam had worn that on the way to the base.

“Yeah,” Sam said at a normal level now that the noise had nearly ceased, “but everyone’s safe now, that’s all that matters.” Sam reassuringly pat Bucky’s shoulder twice before looking back at Steve helping Y/N into the chopper.

Bucky let out a short hum, and focused on the ground. He wanted to crush that stupid little signal. He hated the way it made his chest feel tight, and his heart heavy with guilt. 

Sam’s voice interrupted Bucky’s thoughts.

“Those are a lot of goats, man.”

Before Bucky could respond, Steve appeared in front of them.

“Hey Buck,” Steve smiled, pulling him in for a quick hug, “I’m glad we found you so fast. Are you injured at all?” Steve pulled back to examine Bucky’s form.

“No, I’m fine,” Bucky swiftly assured, before feeling the throbbing of guilt consume him again, “but Y/N’s wrist is broken.”

“Don’t worry, I know. I already told her I’d take her straight to medical once we get back. Speaking of, we should get going.”

“Right.” 

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Three hours later, the group made it back to New York. As the ramp lowered, Bucky quietly pulled Steve aside.

“I can walk Y/N to med.” He nodded to where she was sitting, staring off into space.

“You sure?” Steve struggled to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded.

“Okay.”

Bucky gave his friend a firm pat on the shoulder before sauntering toward Y/N, who remained in her seat.

“Come on, Y/N.” He held out his right hand, offering her to take it.

“Huh?” She blinked twice, and stared up at him, eyebrows scrunched.

“I’m walking you to med.” 

“Oh. Okay.” She paused for a moment before standing up. “So much for being stuck for months.”

“Yeah, I guess that calculation was a bit off.”

“I’m just glad we’re back home. And that you didn’t need to kill any goats.”

“I was going to leave Cheetoh alone.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

The rest of their walk was relatively short, but silent, until they reached the doors of Dr. Cho. Bucky didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, as Dr. Cho was given a heads up to Y/N’s injury, and already whisked her away.

Bucky rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet for a minute, until he decided it would be uncomfortable for all parties involved if he stayed. He knew she’d be alright, he convinced himself, so there was no need to be in the way.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

A couple of the Avengers found themselves mentally recovering in the lounge, waiting for Y/N to get out of her evaluation.

“She’ll probably be out for two months. Broken wrist and all that.” Steve relayed, taking a seat on the couch.

“Two months?” Sam repeated, looking up from his bag of chips.

“I think she’s pretty bummed, so try not to mention it.”

As if on cue, Y/N entered the room.

“Hey guys,” she smiled, waving with the arm that wasn’t in a cast.

“Hey Hon. How’s the wrist?”

“Really, Tony?” Natasha glared at him.

“What?” He feigned innocence, throwing his hands in the air.

“It’s fine guys. It doesn’t hurt that bad, I’m more embarrassed than anything.” 

“Embarrassed by what? I think that cast makes you look tough.” Sam added, doing his best to cheer others up as always. “And hey, you and Bucky can be twins now.”

“Yeah, kinda. Look at that Buck!” She lifted her left arm in the direction of Bucky, who had been silently brooding in the corner. The bulk could be seen under the fabric of her hoodie, but she felt the need to emphasize the point by taking the pullover off.

She first tried tugging the sleeve off her cast, but it was a bit too snug. After a couple more moments of failing, she switched tactics to just pulling off the hoodie from over her head, but that got her stuck in an awkward position too.

After a second too long of borderline uncomfortable silence and shuffling, Steve spoke up.

“Do you want help with that?”

“Nope, I got it. Just gimme- a second…” 

Somehow she had gotten the garment twisted around her right arm and upper body.

“Hon, just let us-” Tony started, but was quickly cut off.

“You know what? It’s suddenly cold again. There’s a weird draft over here.” Y/N quickly tugged the hoodie back down and gave a weary smile. “I’m going to go to my room.”

She ran off before anyone could offer an opinion. Unsurprisingly, Steve was the first to speak.

“I’m going to go check on her.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

A soft knock came to her door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve gave a sympathetic smile as he gently closed the door behind him.

“Hi Steve, what’s up?” She looked fine, but he could hear the strain in her voice.

“Nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He stood in front of where she sat at the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a little frustrated, it’s no big deal.” She shrugged it off, avoiding his eye line.

“It’s okay to feel frustrated.” 

“I know. I shouldn’t though. It’s my fault, anyways.”

“How so?”

She cast her gaze to the floor and swept a hand through her hair.

“Well, I think the whole reason we were ambushed was because of me.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

She took a deep breath.

“After Bucky and I got stranded after the attack, I was sure it wasn’t my fault. But then he started saying things, and they were mean… but he was also right. I started second guessing myself, and I thought about it. I mean, out of all of us, I’m the newest. And I was so sure that I turned my signal off…but now I don’t know. I can’t remember. And if it really is my fault they found us, then it’s my fault that fight happened, and it’s my own doing that this—” she pointed to her cast, “happened. I just feel stupid.”

“You weren’t the leak, Y/N.”

“What?”

“It was an accident. Bucky was carrying an extra signal, and no one thought to turn it off.”

“Bucky?” She looked bewildered, shaking her head at this fact.

“Yes.”

“Does he know?”

“Um…I’m not sure. I didn’t tell him. We never had a proper briefing after the chaos derailed our schedule when we got back.”

“I have to go find him.” Her shock turned to a quiet determination of which Steve decided not to push her on.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still want your hoodie off?”

“Yes please.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“Buck, wait up!”

Bucky slowed his jog around the track to a stop when he heard her voice.

“Y/N?”

“Hey.” She gave him a sweet smile once she caught up, one he felt undeserving of.

“Is there something you need?” 

“No. I just had to tell you something.”

“I’m listening.” He nodded, crossing his arms. He didn’t mean it in a defensive way, it just happened.

“First of all, you should know it’s not your fault.”

“What?” 

“I just found out how we got ambushed, and I figured I should tell you.”

“Oh.” He fought the urge to look away.

“Sam gave you his signal, right? But it was never turned off. It was just an accident. But I needed to tell you, because I know you’re going to blame yourself when they tell everyone at the briefing.” Her concerned tone and eyes met him for the briefest second before he wiped his hands down his face.

“I feel like an asshole.”

“No, please don’t.” She softly touched his elbow.

“I’m going to be honest Y/N, I thought you were going to take it a lot worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you found out that it was me. I was worried you were going to get really mad.”

“Wait, you already knew?”

“Yeah? Sam told me right when he found us…I thought you knew I knew, isn’t that why you just told me all that?”

“I thought you didn’t know. I wanted to be the one to tell you before the briefing, to tell you not to worry about it, because I knew you’d take it hard. But–but you already knew?”

Bucky just stared, jaw dropped at a loss for words.

“And–” She scoffed, “—and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Y/N, I-” 

“Don’t ‘Y/N’, me! You—you, jerk! I can’t believe you knew all this time that you were the leak, and after belittling me and convincing me it was my fault, you didn’t tell me the truth!” She laughed in disbelief. “You selfish, cold-hearted, dickhead!”

He wasn’t sure what to say, but it didn’t matter, because she kept going.

“I’m stuck off missions for the next two months with a broken wrist, and you let me think it was my own doing! You made me feel like an idiot!”

“I was going to tell you—”

“When? After I was already told at the meeting? I can’t believe you!” She turned around briefly as if she couldn’t even face him, but quickly turned back. “To think I felt bad for you when I found out it was you who got us ambushed!”

With each insult she managed to get a little closer to him. So close, in fact, that Bucky was struggling to even comprehend what she was saying anymore. All he could think of was how close he was to her, how his hands were just itching to grab her waist. His head was nearly empty when he finally did carefully grab her and pull her closer to him. She paused her rampage to look up into his adoring eyes at his sudden movement.

“Bucky?” She whispered, a swirl of confusion and intrigue.

He replied by placing his lips gently on hers, feeling the warmth of her touch. She reciprocated, kissing him back for a couple seconds before bringing her hands to his chest to furiously push him away, followed by a swift slap to the face.

“Jeez-” The sudden change from bliss to reality was shocking.

“I can’t believe you James!” She yelled, her flustered look from both the kiss and her rage. “I can’t believe you just kissed me! I have a right to be angry, fuck you for thinking you can shut me up by locking my lips!”

‘Shit, I messed up,” he starts to think, about to spew apologies, when he gets cut off by her grasping his hoodie in her hand and pulling him back in for another kiss. The moment his shock subsides and he sinks back into the waves of her kiss, he’s just as abruptly taken from it, head dizzy as she parts from him just to slap him across the cheek again.

“Ow! What was that for?” He brings his hand to the sting. He’s so dazed and confused, a hurricane of thoughts and emotions all fighting for his attention.

“You make me so mad! I’m fuming right now! You are so selfish—”

She cuts herself off, pulling him in for another kiss, one that he’s still not prepared for. His frustration rising at her antics, he brings both hands to either side of her face and holds her steadily against him, resulting in their first kiss that lasted longer than five seconds. When he finally feels her about to let go for breath, he lets his lips leave hers, and continues to cradle her head, their foreheads resting against each other as they both gasp for breath. 

“You’re not going to slap me again, are you?” He carefully asks, looking into her eyes.

“No.” 

“You’re sure?”

“No.”

He laughs and slowly lets go of her.

“You okay?”

After a few seconds of silence, she responds with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I’ve already given you enough reason to hate me, I was sure that if you found out I was the leak, you’d finally hate me for good.”

“I don’t hate you Bucky. I always figured you kind of hated me. Lately you’ve been acting kind of like-”

“A dick, I know,” he nods. “And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. It’s just-” Bucky’s voice seizes as she sees him look intensely at her mouth.

“It’s what?”

“Can I please kiss you again?”

She slowly nods, and allows Bucky to kiss her for the fourth time. It was fucking heaven to him. Regardless, he abruptly pulls back when a thought crosses his mind.

“Shit, what about Steve?”

“What about Steve?”

“Don’t you like each other?” 

She couldn’t help but think his concern was cute, the way he acted like he was talking about middle school crushes.

“Bucky, no,” she laughs, “Steve and I have just always been really good friends. You know, when people are nice to each other, and they like to hang around each other?”

“I just always thought that-”

“Never. He’s my friend. And I can guarantee you he feels the same as me.”

She lets him process the information, watching him nod to himself as if taking it in.

“Oh.”

“Are you jealous?” She smirks, giving him a flirty shove.

His cheeks go pink as he starts to stutter.

“Jea- jealous? No, not jealous. Just-”

Was he jealous? Was it emasculating to admit it? It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, he’s sick of lying.

“Okay, maybe I was a little bit jealous.” He mumbled, drawing his attention to a pebble on the ground that he was toeing. “So, you do like me, right?” 

She lifts his chin upwards and gives him the softest, sweetest, slowest peck. 

“Does that answer your question?” She flutters.

“I think so. But the slapping earlier was a bit confusing.” He teased.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, it was well deserved.”

“No, I still shouldn’t have hit you.” She said with certainty. “But I am still a little bit upset that you didn’t tell me.”

“Doll, I know I should’ve told you that you weren’t the leak. I wish–”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m upset you never told me how you felt about me. Instead you acted-”

“Like a dick, I know–”

“No, I was going to say like a child. But yeah, a dick, too.”

They just stood together for that moment, appreciating the start of something new. New, and beautiful, with a lot less animosity, and a lot more kisses.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far, thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you liked it. If you feel like it, please lemme know your thoughts! I hope you have a peaceful day/night 💕

[matthewtkachuk]

last night (blame it on the vodka)

They say drunk words are sober thoughts, so what are drunken confessions of love?

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: a pinch of angst, swearing, alcohol (and its after effects - aka a fat hangover and a twinge of regret)

word count: 3k

a/n: matthew tkachuk is a stanley cup champion!!!! you know i had to do it to ya. ps this idea was formed a million years ago (pre trade) therefore I have simply plucked Cowboys from downtown Calgary to downtown Miami deal with it. big ups to @wyattjohnston for the edit and for outsourcing my geography queries. title and inspo from the song by the same name by lucy spraggan. enjoy my loves and let me know what you think <3

You’re never drinking again. 

It’s a mantra you repeat all morning, from the minute you’re dragged back into consciousness by the sound of construction down on the street, to when you finally pull from bed to dramatically slam the window shut, to the one-two-three-four times you end up with your knees on the bathroom mat and your head in the toilet. 

You’re far too old to be drinking like that on a nearly empty stomach, far too old to be drinking like that regardless. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, being a mostly single twenty something year old in downtown Miami. Mostly single in that every time you drank, your painfully unrequited crush on probably the one guy in all of Florida you couldn’t pull came out with a vengeance. 

Looking at your phone and all the unread texts you groan, realizing that the little girl who used to write ‘Mrs. Matty Tkachuk’ in all of her diaries came out in full force last night. 

Hyping yourself up, you type out and forward the message ‘What the hell did I do last night?’ to everyone you remember being out with you. Everyone, that is, except Matty himself. 

Brielle: Last night you told him you loved him 

It’s not atypical for you to be out on a Friday night, a group of your closest girlfriends at your side. Neither is it uncommon for the night to begin with the three of you taking thirst traps for the ‘gram before taking shots as the Uber pulls up. 

Cowboys is a favorite place, certainly not for the high class atmosphere or clientele—of which you’ll find neither. But who doesn’t love to let loose in an environment where the city boys of Miami don Stetsons and large belt buckles? And okay, maybe you’re a bit of a gambler—though, with money or love as the currency depends on the night. 

Tonight you’re pressing your luck, drinking enough to dull the edge and to keep you from overreacting to Matt’s response to the aforementioned Insta story. It’s a simple message, a string of fire emojis, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t refresh the app until his username appeared as ‘Seen’ under the story. 

You don’t want to think it means anything when he shows up with a couple of his boys an hour into dancing with the girls. Cowboys is a popular place, evidenced by the crowded dance floor and the complete lack of personal space. So what Brielle was wearing a cowboy hat in one of the pictures and so what everyone and their mother knew this bar was your favorite place to spend Friday nights and so what you’d even tagged the place in a boomerang of your shot glasses five minutes after arriving. 

It didn’t mean anything—doesn’t mean anything. 

That thought doesn’t stop you from abandoning your friends the second you see the all too familiar head of curls.

“Hi Matty,” you greet, stumbling into him and sliding your hand around his waist. He feels solid beneath your fingertips, warm and secure and everything you’ve ever wanted. His resulting grin could build and topple empires, you think. 

But then reality all comes crashing down again as he slides his arm around your shoulders in turn, squeezing gently as he replies, “Hey, Kid.”

It’s the gentle reminder you’ll never be anything more than the annoying girl next door who used to follow him and Brady around like they were the greatest thing in the world. 

If he notices the way you deflate, he doesn’t say a word, though his hand rubs comfortingly at your shoulder for a moment until you can’t stand it anymore and go back to your friends and their sympathetic faces. 

The thing about you when you drink is the filter comes off. Normally you play your cards close to your chest, making it very hard for others to know your emotions. But a little vodka and you’re suddenly ready to face your feelings head on. 

It starts off innocently enough, an over exaggerated ‘I love you!’ when he brings you a drink without you having to ask. But then Georgia is all but holding you down to prevent you from running after him and professing your love. She doesn’t succeed, what with you running into his arms midway through the night anyway. 

He has that same grin on his face as you tell him how much you love him, and though he doesn’t mean it the way you do, he tells you that he loves you too just the same. 

Though you haven’t eaten in at least twelve hours, the thought of food makes your already upset stomach turn some more, and so you settle for making a cup of tea to get some fluids back in you. 

Not quite ready to face the music in terms of what your alcohol fueled self did last night, you ignore the unread messages to flip through some Insta stories. There’s cute pics and videos of you and your girls, you screen shot your favorites and tap away until you pause on a boomerang of Georgia and Brielle. It’s cute enough if you ignore the small stain by Bri’s collar where she’d lost some of the second tequila shot. Oh, and you looking up at Matthew with the most pathetic lovesick look on your face in the background. 

It unsettles your stomach further, and so you abandon all plans of tea—turning off your kettle and grabbing the water bottle you’d prepped for yourself before you left last night and taking up residence on the couch. 

Putting on a random movie from your childhood on Disney+, you lay back and cover yourself with your favorite quilt. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and so you prop yourself up with a few extra pillows and fall asleep sitting up. 

It mustn’t be more than half an hour of uninterrupted sleep before you’re pulled out of it by the incessant buzzing of your phone. It’s a set of four pictures of you on Matt’s lap and another incriminating tidbit from the night before. 

Georgia: Last night you told him you need him

“Shut up Sammy,” you glare, angrily poking his chest with your index finger. You’re grateful for the uncharacteristic change in nail shape at your last manicure, the stiletto tip serving as a makeshift weapon that actually makes him wince before laughing in your face. 

Truthfully, you’re not sure how the night got to this point—you and your girls hanging around a table with Matty and his boys. You’re not complaining though, not with how your bare legs pressed to Matty’s jeans or how his arm rests above your shoulders, fingertips brushing your skin now and then. 

Matt can spot a fight coming from a mile away, well versed in the language that is your rage from the countless years he was the source of it, pulling on your pigtails and breaking your barbies. 

“That’s not my name,” Sam rolls his eyes, rubbing his chest and stealing a swig of your beer. “Lightweight.”

He’s referring to your drunken state and the fact that Matt himself had to drag you to the table with the promise of a Bud Light if, and only if, you drank an entire glass of water. Narrowing your eyes, you begin to lunge at him again, stopped only by the force of Matt pulling you onto his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, one hand resting on your stomach and the other on your bare knee. 

The effects of being wrapped up in him are almost instantaneous. Your rage quickly simmers, your body relaxes and you all but sink into the embrace. You quiet then, content to let the rest of the table do the talking for the moment while you memorize the feel of his arms. 

It’s a nervous habit to fiddle with the small charm around your neck, something you do unconsciously, not even noticing until it’s somehow come undone in your grasp. 

“Matty, I need you,” you whisper against the side of his face, watching his eyes darken and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt with your fist coming at his face with your necklace clenched tightly within. 

He visibly relaxes, motioning for you to lean forward and swiping your hair to the side.You grab the strands of your hair after he takes the necklace from you, shivering as his cold hands drag across your skin. 

Georgia is shaking her head at you from across the table, having clearly read your lips and witnessed the little moment. You just smile and shrug at her before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin of Matt’s jaw. “Thank you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re dying. By the grace of some higher power, you haven’t seen the inside of your bathroom in a hot minute. Yes, you’ve finally moved past stage one of your hangover, however you’re not out of the woods yet. You’re dying a slow death on the couch—feeling yourself dip more and more into dangerous dehydration levels despite the giant water bottle on your coffee table that had been a gag gift from Matt last Christmas. 

Truthfully, the room is still a little spinny and your stomach still a little unsettled, but perhaps the worst of it all is the splitting headache and the sore throat. Both ailments make sense, you’re a yeller when you drink and you’re certain last night was no exception—even if the memories are slow to return to you. 

It’s not aggression, not really. It’s more that your body can’t contain all the emotions that you so carefully hide in your day to day life, and without the control that sobriety brings, you’re wont to let them all spill out. 

And really, you can’t linger on the what ifs too long, so you settle back in for another nap as an attempt to sleep off the symptoms of your poorly thought out night out with another movie playing as background noise. 

Elizabeth has just rejected Darcy when your phone lights up three times. 

sam: let’s just say you’re screwed if you ever wake up in vegas

you: fuck off sammy

sam: still not my name, lightweight 

sam: at least I didn’t propose last night 

“You know, Sammy,” you slur, no longer angry but keeping up the nickname in hopes that the table will think you are and Matty will let you stay in his arms. “You’re very lucky Liz agreed to marry you because other than the hockey thing you really have no redeeming qualities.”

“At least someone wanted to marry me,” he retorts not unkindly. 

“Matty would marry me,” you state confidently, tilting your head back to look up at the man beneath you. “Wouldn’t you, Matty?”

“Gonna have to get down on one knee, Kid,” Matty laughs, shaking your body slightly from where it leans against him. The dopiest smile crosses your face at the sound and you know you’re being far too obvious but you can’t help it. Matty laughing is your favorite sound, and happiness looks so good on him. There’s nothing you hate more than seeing him sad or upset. Nothing except dirty, sticky bar floors, which makes your next actions even more comical. 

Pulling from his arms for the first time in what feels like an eternity—not that you were complaining—you jump from the table and dramatically flop down to one knee. 

“Matthew—M-Matty,” you hiccup, keenly aware of the dozens of eyes on you and yet utterly uncaring of any of them except the icy blue you stare into now. “You’re my b-best friend. Marry me?”

The look he gives you is fond if frigid, not at all the passionate love declaration you were hoping for. Pouting deeply, you don’t move to pull up from the floor. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not right now’,” he answers, getting up himself and pulling you up by your armpits. You wrap around him like a vine, not even protesting as he leads you to the bar to grab another glass of water and some appetizers for the table. 

God, you really regret asking about last night. Maybe it was better to live in beautiful, blissful ignorance — if you never remembered all the embarrassing behavior did it really happen? 

Unfortunately your vibrating phone simply refuses to let that happen. 

brielle: and you totally ate shit on the pavement leaving the bar last night 

That certainly explains the dull ache of your biceps, having caught the weight of you alongside breaking your fall. Luckily that appears to be the extent of the damage, given you can wiggle all of your fingers and toes and no other part of your body stings. 

Just your ego is bruised. 

“Why would we go home?” you ask, gesturing wildly at the emptying bar around you as though it were still the hopping venue of an hour ago. 

“Cause the bar staff would like to go home too,” Brielle explains kindly. 

“So we go to the next bar? I’m sure there’s somewhere still open, it’s only midnight!” 

Matty’s arm is heavy and warm and secure as it wraps around your shoulder to guide you to the exit. “I’ve already called us an Uber.”

You preen at the mention of an ‘us’ between you and Matt, suddenly docile and calm, allowing him to guide you outside. 

Far too preoccupied with the weight of him, you miss the broken piece of sidewalk and subsequently toe pick the crack, ending up face down on the pavement. 

Matt is quick, pulling you to your feet with ease and examining your face and upper body for damage. “You alright?”

“If I say no, will you kiss it better?” you crack back, only half joking. 

Shaking his head at your antics, he guides you into the waiting car before sliding in beside you. 

You’re quite content to lean your head on his shoulder the whole drive home, arm curled around his before letting him lead you to your bed.

A joke about inviting him into your bed doesn’t leave your lips, momentarily mesmerized by the gentle way he tucks you in, the soft press of his lips to your forehead. 

Could it possibly get worse, you wonder. 

Matty: let me up?

He’s got a key for emergencies, and although you usually appreciate that he doesn’t misuse it, in this case you almost wish he would let himself in. 

It would give you some extra time to compose yourself and—to be quite honest—you do yet harbor a little fear that getting vertical might have you running for the bathroom once again. 

Neither of those things happen—he doesn’t let himself in and you don’t throw up on your way to the door. You make quick work of the lock before opening the door to reveal Matthew looking as well rested as you’ve ever seen him. 

The contrast between the two of you is likely a stark difference, but his face doesn’t give anything away if he’s thinking it too. 

His first words to you are simple, full of care and compassion. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus that then backed right over me again,” you answer truthfully. 

His responding giggle makes your insides feel warm and you can only hope you don’t have the tell tale lovesick look on your face. There’s a moment of quiet contemplation—his chest visibly puffs up and then deflates as he takes a steeling breath. 

“You said some things last night,” he says and you feel your blood run ice cold in your veins. 

You attempt to deflect. “I say a lot of things, Matty. Especially when I’ve gotten into the Tito’s.”

He shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “Last night you said you loved me.”

“Of course I love you, you’re my best friend.” It’s not a lie, not completely anyway. You love him. He’s your best friend. So what if that love you have for him is something a little bit more than friendship? 

He shakes his head again, little ringlets of curls shaking with the motion. “Didn’t sound friendly. You said you needed me.” His voice is rough, tone something heavy. 

“To fix my necklace, Matty. What are you doing?” Your voice in response is a little wild—short clipped sentences spoken in quick succession.  

He appears frustrated. Not necessarily at you, you don’t think, but it’s clear on his face.  “That’s not—You said you wanted to marry me, got down on one knee even. 

“I was drunk, it’s not that deep.” 

He takes the remaining steps toward you, crowding your space and boxing you in with his arms. Yet you know with one word he would back off if you asked. 

You don’t ask. 

“But what if it is? What if I said that I love you too, that I need you too? That the only person who I’ve ever thought about marrying was you?”

“Matty, what are you doing?” you ask lowly, heart pounding so loud you fear he might hear it. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he murmurs and leans in until your lips barely touch. 

It's the invitation you feel you’ve waited a lifetime for. No amount of doubt or hesitation or uncertainty is going to stop you from wrapping yourself around him and deepening the kiss. 

It’s soft and sweet—two decades of buildup, of a beautiful friendship turned something more. It’s you and Matty the way it was always supposed to be—the way it was always going to end up. 

[fandomfucker]

I WANT TO BE MANHANDLED BY RHEA PLEASEE

WARNINGS: SMUT!!! (thigh riding, fingering, hickies, nicknames, slight degradation, spanking, oral, rough)

Word count: 1,771

Reader's POV

"Oh shit."

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

It was the mantra repeating in my head as I hurried down the nearly empty corridor of the back of whatever arena Raw was taking place in tonight.

My girlfriend, Rhea, had told me to meet her at her locker room twenty minutes ago so we could grab a cab and leave a bit early since we were both done for the night and she had told me that she had something planned for us.

I, however, had gotten a little caught up in something and just about busted my ass trying to get there before she got too mad.

Skidding around the corner to where her dressing room was located I slammed face first into what felt like a solid brick wall.

The impact sent stumbling back but before I could land flat on my ass a hand as familiar as my own wrapped around my waist, keeping me upright.

"I'm so sorry babe," I apologized to my girlfriend as I wrapped my arms around her neck. Her grip on my waist tightened as her eyes flared at me in anger.

"I lost track of time and then I was running backstage and tripped and Rhea, I ate shit, and I'm so so sorry." I panted, trying to catch my breath as I clutched the back of her t-shirt in my fist.

Her jaw clenched as she looked at me, and I could tell she was choosing her next words carefully.

"Are you okay?" She asked me.

I nodded carefully in response.

She gave a curt nod before going back into the room, coming back only a second later with both of our bags in her hands.

"Lets go." She said before brushing past me and making her way down the hallway, leaving me to close the door behind us and scurry after her.

I waited beside her silently until our cab arrived, only looking over at her when she grabbed our bags to put in the trunk, her ordering me to get in the car instead of helping.

Hopping into the back, I buckled in and waited for her to join me. Once she was in and ready, we took off towards our hotel.

The whole ride back was spent in a thick silence. I could feel Rhea's anger pulsing off of her in waves as I trembled nervously in my seat. The only real assurance I got that she wasn't mad mad was her hand squeezing my inner thigh.

Wasting no time, as soon as the car pulled to a stop in front of our hotel, Rhea was up and out of the car getting our luggage. She met me at the front door and I followed her in as we made our way up to our room.

The second the hotel room door closed behind me I was roughly pushed up against it, one of my thighs brought up to her hip as she cradled the back of my head to keep it from hitting the door too hard.

"You were late, Sweetheart. You didn't listen to me, and you know what happens when you don't listen to me." She growled at me before attacking my throat with her lips.

She bit and sucked her way up and down my throat, from the bottom of my ear to the top of my breasts, leaving her mark along the way.

A guttural moan escaped me as she explored my body with her tongue. She bit my throat harshly, a sign to shut up, causing me to whimper as I bit my tongue to stop any further noises from escaping.

Once she was satisfied with her work on my neck, she pulled away, bringing me with her by the hand holding the crown of my head.

Walking us backwards toward the bed, Rhea unleashed her signature devilish grin on me as she licked her lips, her piercing glinting in the moonlight streaming in from the open windows.

She maneuvered us so that she was now behind me as we both faced the bed in front of us.

My face then hit the plush comforter as she pushed me down roughly from behind. And my shirt was ripped in two as she clawed it off my body, her nails leaving little red lines down the length of my back.

Grabbing my shoulder, she turned me over so that I now laid on my back. She removed the remain of my shirt off the front of my body before shimming my jeans over my hips and down my legs.

I now laid before her in nothing but my underwear, having forgone a bra this morning knowing that this is exactly where I would later end up.

"You slut. No bra and a thong?" Giving me another devilish grin she lightly traced a finger down my clothed core, making me shiver from her cool touch. "Only for you, Mami."

My comment received an firm slap on my pussy, making me suck in a large breath as Rhea tore into my underwear, ripping them to shreds just like my shirt.

Her pointer and middle finger were harshly shoved up into my vagina and began pumping in and out of me at a quick pace. She held my hip down with her free hand to keep me from riding her fingers.

She suckled my neck as she finger-fucked me. Her thumb began to draw circles on my clit as her fingers slowly down but ever thrust came harder and harder.

"I can feel you're almost there, babydoll. Tell me what you want." Her voice was low and sultry as she spoke down to me, her amused smirk never leaving her face.

I immediately complied, both dying to come and to appease her. "Please, Mami, I want to come. Mami, I want to come please."

Satisfied with my answer she gave me a small nod, picking the pace back up and hitting my g-spot with every thrust as she simultaneously rubbed my clit.

The pressure finally sent me over the edge. I shook with pleasure, coming all over Rhea's hand as she slowed down and helped me ride it out.

A loud moan escaped from my mouth as Rhea removed her hand before gripping the underside of my knees, and forcing them up to my chest for better access.

My pussy glistened with my slick, bared wide before my goddess of a girlfriend as she kept me folded in half and bit her lip in excitement as she kept her eyes trained on my body.

Her head bent down, her tongue coming out to lick up the mess she'd made. My legs trembled and goosebumps prickled my flesh when her piercing grazed my clit, all the while her hands massaged the back of my thighs, keeping them up in the air above her head.

Once she deemed me clean enough, she stood back up and threw my legs to the side, much like she would her opponents before pinning them.

Finally stripping off all of her own clothes, I was ordered to sit there on the edge of the bed with my hands laid on the bed beside me.

Admiring her naked body before me I sat and waited just as she had told me to.

She slowly stalked up to me, her eyes trained on mine and she stood in front of me, both of my legs between hers. She kicked one of my legs away, spreading my legs apart, before slowly lowering herself to straddle one of my thighs.

I could feel how wet she was on my leg, especially once she grabbed my neck and shoulder for leverage and started to grind herself on my leg.

Moaning at the feeling, she closed her eyes, completely at the mercy of the bliss she was feeling.

Wanting to give her the most pleasure possible, I began to move my thigh against the pace she had set for herself, doubling what she was already feeling.

The hand that was holding onto my shoulder moved down to my breast squeezing it as she rode me. Finally opening her eyes she addressed me. "Touch me, slut."

My hand immediately found one of her breasts, teasing her nipple, as my mouth found the other, sucking and biting until she was frantically grinding herself against my thigh.

Loving when she came undone, I continued to suck at her nipple, being careful not to irritate her piercing too much, and brought my other hand down to her pussy.

She was so soaked she had me moaning but I quickly found her hole and inserted three fingers into her, pumping hard as she continued to grind on what was now the palm of my hand.

Not a minute later she was crying out and coming all over my hand. She laid her head on my shoulder as I helped her ride out her high.

Once she stopped shaking as much I removed my hand from underneath her.

"Lick it up." She ordered as she lifted her head, her cheeks flushed and forehead sweaty.

Happily, I sucked the cum off of each finger, preening at the hungry look in her eyes as she watched.

Standing up and backing away from my thigh, I could see not only the puddle Rhea had left on my thigh that was now dripping down both sides, and onto the floor, but the strings of cum that stretched from her pussy to my leg as she stood up.

Putting her hands under my thighs and around my waist, she picked me up bridal style and threw me further up on the bed, immediately grabbing my side and flipping me over onto my stomach.

My breath left me for a second after being flipped around so quickly. Her hands slid under my thighs and brought them up to her, leaving me on my knees in front of her.

Without warning, I felt her hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks wide open just before her mouth was on my core. Moaning loudly, I leaned into her face, resulting in a smack on my ass as she began to tongue-fuck me.

She was rough and soon began sucking on my clit again as she fucked me with her fingers. In no time at all I was a shaking, moaning mess again, begging to come.

Rhea rode me down from the high, flipping me back onto my stomach before crawling over me and laying down on top of me with her head resting on my breast, her right hand splayed across my stomach and tracing the tattoo on my ribcage.

"I'm sorry I was late, Rhea." I apologized as I brushed her hair out of her face. She snuggled closer into me and held me tighter. "'s okay, babe. You should be late more often." Laughing, I closed my eyes as we fell asleep together.

[angelic-muse]

unforgettable

a/n: i couldn't not write anything for his special day, so enjoy, and happiest of birthdays to my silly mosshead man. this was written with both anime and opla zoro in mind so feel free to interpret it as either.

pairing: roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings: just fluff, not proofread

summary: it's your lover's birthday, and what better way to start the celebration than to stay awake and surprise him at midnight?

...that is, if you can stay awake.

must stay awake... must stay awake.

the sentence replayed itself in your groggy head like a mantra, a broken record stuck on repeat, a toy train running in slow circles around your brain as you fought the urge to tip over the line between wakefulness and sleep.

zoro deserved more than that.

"my birthday? never really done anything for it," he'd grunted the day before after you'd brought it up. the swordsman had frowned, scratched his head. "kinda forgot it was tomorrow, actually."

and it was then that you decided to make this birthday — and all his next ones, for that matter — unforgettable.

so after some pleading with nami that then lead to careful rearrangement of night watch schedules (despite the crew's grumbling), zoro would be set to finish his shift at midnight — exactly midnight.

and what would he find when he returned to his room? you, of course, waiting for the moment he stepped through the door to shower him in love and birthday wishes, followed by a day of celebrations just for him.

well, that was your plan.

but the actual staying awake hadn't been part of it.

since your shift for night watch was the last one, just before sunrise, you were lucky enough to be able to sleep soundly all night till then. which meant you were not at all used to being awake at this time and your body was slowly but surely losing the fight to fall unconscious.

you yawned, blinking heavy eyelids as you turned to squint at the sky, the gentle moonlight washing the deck of the going merry in its milky glow. it wasn't quite yet at its highest point — still not midnight.

surely a little lay down before zoro returned couldn't hurt, right?

don't fall asleep, you promised yourself one last time as you settled into his own hammock, breathing in the lingering scent of him with a sigh. don't fall asleep...

zoro muttered angrily as he stomped across the ship back to his room, not bothering to soften the loud thumping of his boots against the planks, swords clanking noisily at his hip.

"serves 'em right if they wake up," he groused, "putting me up there at this time all of a sudden for no fuckin' reason—"

he cut short as he shoved into his room, raising a brow at the sight that met him as he rid himself of swords and shirt. there you were, curled up in his spot, sleeping soundly like a contented cat.

"the hell you doing in my hammock?" he grumbled under his breath, but zoro slid in beside you anyways, throwing an arm over your shoulders and folding the other behind his head. he didn't mind that you were here — he never did. sleeping beside you was nothing out of the ordinary anymore. he liked it, enjoyed the easy comfort and security that came with you tucked against his side; hearts beating in time, every breath shared.

it was right when zoro was beginning to drift off that he felt you stir awake. cracking open one eye, he watched as you sat up, blinking tiredly. "zo... zoro?"

"what got you up?" he murmured as you yawned and stretched your arms overheard. "m'here, get back to sleep." get back to cuddling me.

"the smell of a pirate who hasn't showered in a week," you joked groggily, rubbing at your eyes. then you froze. shit.

shit!

"no, i fell asleep!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands. how could you? you promised yourself you wouldn't, for him, and now... "fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck... i'm sorry." you peeked back up at him, lower lip stuck out.

zoro frowned. "hah? what the hell are you on about?"

"i was meant to stay up," you said sadly. "to say happy birthday to you. at midnight. that's why i got nami to change your watch..."

rubbing a hand across his face, zoro sat up to look at you properly, blinking sleep away. you went to the trouble of getting his night watch changed and stayed up in his room just to say happy birthday to him? seriously?

he'd be surprised, but really, that was just the kind of stupid, endearing thing you'd do.

and so he laughed.

you blinked at him as his wide shoulders shook with mirth, head tossed back. an embarrassed warmth crept up your neck and you folded your arms, attempting to glare at him even as you fought to hold down a smile. "wh— it's not funny!"

"nah," he grinned at you as his laughter died down. "it's just cute. c'mere."

you yelped in half-protest as zoro grabbed your head to pull into his chest, laying back down with a sigh.

"you don't hafta... stay up until midnight or do shit like that just for me." he uttered after a moment of quiet, brushing his fingers through your hair. "you need your sleep, and i need mine. so just... just wait until morning next year, yeah?"

"i... okay," you sighed, trailing a finger across his chest, drawing mindless patterns over scarred, tawny skin, making him suppress a shiver. "i still have stuff planned for later, though."

"yeah? let's hear it."

"i'm not ruining the surprise, silly. but... i did get you some presents and convinced sanji to bake you a cake. among other things."

zoro snorted. "bet that shitty cook did it for you more than me."

"probably," you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. "don't get jealous that he might love me more than you, it's okay."

the swordsman scoffed, turning you both on your sides with a grunt. "maybe, but he'll never love you as much as i do."

you chuckled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; steel and sweat with an earthier undertone somewhere beneath. "i love you too, even though you still smell like you've never showered."

zoro barked out a laugh, tightening a thick arm around your waist to pull you further into him. "i'll take a shower for your birthday, how's that sound?"

you peered up at him and wrinkled your nose. he grinned.

"you're gross," you muttered with a smile even as you snuggled further into him. he kissed your forehead and you could feel his own smile against your skin.

"and you still love me."

"lucky you, huh?"

zoro exhaled softly, closing his eyes. "yeah, lucky me."

slowly, quiet draped itself over the two of you like the softest blanket, comforting and warm as the sounds of your breathing lulled each other to sleep after gentle whispers of goodnight and wishes of good dreams. and he rocked you in his arms, like how the gentle waves rocked you from below, mother nature's cradle for her sleeping children as they rested in an embrace so tightly woven with nothing but pure love not even the sharpest sword could ever hope to sever it.

and that morning, when zoro awoke to his dear lover smothering his face with kisses as they pulled him from his sleep with the promise of birthday gifts, he knew with clarity, such a deep, resounding clarity it made his heart ache—

that you, on this day and every other, were the greatest gift he could ever ask for.

nia's ask box is open!

[sinkovia]

Coffee Shop: VIII

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

In the following weeks that passed after you went over to Simon’s house, a subtle but noticeable shift occurred in the routine. Simon found himself lingering longer at the cafe, no longer constrained by a schedule. Conveniently, he managed to time his departures to coincide with the end of your shift, providing an opportunity to walk you home. 

Simon couldn't ignore the routine he'd established—walking you home, exchanging casual conversation, and the comforting warmth that enveloped him when you smiled.

In the beginning, he clung to the excuse that he merely enjoyed the way you made tea. He wasn't interested; he repeated the words like a mantra. But the days blurred, and a subtle transformation occurred. A small smile appeared unbidden on his face when you spoke, and your laughter became a melody that lingered in his thoughts.

As the weeks passed, he noticed a lightness in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation. 

Love. 

It took him a while to accept the truth. Denial crumbled like sand, revealing a simple reality—he was falling for you. Every day spent with you became a cherished moment, and he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You had woven your way into his heart, and he was grateful for the joy you brought into his life. His chest felt lighter, his heart seemed to skip a beat in your presence, and he couldn't deny the warmth that enveloped him whenever you were near. 

You made him happy, and, more importantly, you made him feel in ways he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge before.

A week after Simon deployed again, you found yourself on the couch, surrounded by the comforting presence of Riley and Missy. To your surprise, the two pets, despite their differences, got along remarkably well. You couldn't resist capturing the moment, snapping a picture of them sleeping peacefully. You decided to share the moment with Simon, sending him the photo.

In the rec room at the base, Simon received the picture. A smile played on his lips, though his expression was hidden behind his balaclava. Johnny, his keen eyes catching the subtle change, teased Simon about you.

"How’s the missus?" Simon put down his phone and met Johnny's gaze with a poker face.

“She’s not my missus,” His tone betraying little.

“When you asking her out then?” Johnny grinned, fully aware of the dynamics at play. Simon fell silent, the notion of pursuing a relationship with you lingering in his thoughts. He contemplated whether you would even want someone with his scars and emotional baggage.

“I'm not,” 

“Why’d you have to think about it?” Johnny's smile grew wider, prompting Simon to huff in mild frustration. He abruptly stood up and left the rec room, Johnny calling after him.

“L.t she likes you, don't overthink it!” Johnny's words echoed as Simon disappeared back into his room, contemplating the possibilities that lay ahead.

A few days later, after getting out of the shower, Simon received a Facetime call from you. He quickly threw on a black shirt and answered. As the call connected, he saw Riley on the screen and smiled when he heard the dog whine.

“Miss me, Riley?” Riley whined again, and then your face came into view, a breath of fresh air after not seeing you for two weeks.

“How has he been?” you set up the camera so both you and Riley were in the frame as you sat on your couch. “He’s been good, he destroyed one of his toys.” You flipped the camera to the shredded stuffed penguin, the remains scattered around. Simon laughed, and you smiled, feeling warmth and lightness in your chest.

You flipped the camera back, “How have you been?” Simon set you down on the sink counter, drying his hair with a towel as he looked at you, not wanting to waste a second admiring you before the call ended.

“Been alright, wrapping up a mission tomorrow. I’ll be back in a week.” You smiled, and Simon noticed the way your eyes lit up.

“How have you been, love? How’s work been?” You rambled about a rude customer and then about the snowfall, covering your garden to protect the vegetables. Simon just smiled, loving to hear you talk, finding ease in your voice.

“There’s this book convention in two weeks, they raffle off a five hundred dollar Barnes and Noble gift card. Some authors go, and you can get your books signed too!”

“Five hundred dollars? Sounds like a steal.” You lay down on the couch with Riley taking up most of the camera.

“It is! You could tag along with me… if that’s something you’re interested in.” You nervously started petting Riley, and Simon smiled. “I’d love to, it’ll give me something to look forward to when I get back.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” You smiled, continuing to pet Riley. Simon’s attention shifted to his door, where Johnny called out that the captain wanted them in the debriefing room.

“I have to go, love. I’ll talk to you later?” You sat up and smiled, Simon's eyes lingering on it. He tried to burn the image in his mind, your hand going to Riley again, aggressively petting his head.

“Yeah, be safe, Si.” He smiled at the nickname you had been using for the past few weeks, relishing in the warmth it brought.

“I will, love.” You smiled and held up Riley, waving his paw. Simon laughed before hanging up the call. He sat for a moment in his room, the silence deafening. Was this really what his life was like before he met you?

Depressing?

You had truly become the light in his life.

His mission went by in a blur, and before he knew it, the day of the convention arrived, and Simon found himself on your front doorstep. He asked if you wanted to tag along while he took Riley to the park in the morning. 

Simon dropped the leash, and Riley ran around in the grass, chasing a small butterfly on a flower. He bit a dandelion before wiggling around in the grass. You laughed as you watched Riley, but Simon's eyes were on you as he smiled.

After taking some pictures of Riley on the slide and letting a few kids pet him, you decided it was time to head back. On the drive home, you pointed out a diner that had really good milkshakes and recommended it to him if he ever had the craving. Simon changed lanes and turned into the parking lot of the diner.

“Could I get fries and a vanilla malt?”

“What do you want, love?” he turned to you and caught you smiling up at him, to which he only smiled. Caught in the moment, the cashier cleared their throat, and you quickly muttered out what you wanted.

You sat in the booth across from Simon, admiring the retro-style diner. "Forever" by The Little Dippers was playing on the jukebox, and he smiled as he gazed at you playing with Riley in your lap. The waitress brought over a small cup filled with whipped cream for Riley, and you both conversed about random things as Riley destroyed the whipped cream next to you on the floor.

You checked the time on your phone after you both finished your food. “We still have a little over two hours before the convention starts.” Simon sat back in the booth, thinking for a moment. What could the both of you do for two hours?

“Is there a theater nearby?” You nodded and put your napkin on your tray. “Yeah, there is actually one right next to the convention.”

“Wanna catch a movie?” You smiled and got up from the booth. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

Simon drove back to his house and dropped Riley off before making his way to the theater. There was a showtime in about ten minutes, so you decided on watching "Priscilla." You both stood in line for concessions. Simon ordered you a Coca Cola slushie and nachos before you walked side by side to the theater, which was fairly empty. After the movie, you rambled on about how awful Elvis Presley was, telling him you hoped he was rotting some where.

“God, what an asshole. The way he whistled when that girl told him she wore Chanel, and Priscilla literally wears the same perfume!” You went on a whole rant as you waited in line to enter the convention, and Simon just laughed as you dragged Elvis through the mud.

You walked up to the raffle stand and wrote your names down with your contact information on small pieces of paper and slipped them into the big bowl.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, Si.” you smiled, and Simon quirked his brow, “You want me to win?” You opened your mouth, shocked.

“The Hunger Games?”

“Never heard of it.” You lightly slapped his arm with the back of your hand, “We need to watch them; they are the best movies. A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes came out a few months ago, so it's perfect!” Simon smiled and nodded. He didn't know what a ballad had to do with the movies, but he was just happy that he was going to have another excuse to hang out with you.

For the next few hours, you and Simon walked around the convention, buying a few books and getting some signed by the authors. Simon wasn’t a book fanatic like you, but he loved the way your eyes lit up and the smile you had after an author signed a book you purchased. You would say how cool it was and even show him the signature, even though he was standing next to watching them sign it.

Simon observed from a distance as you eagerly approached the booth where another author sat, ready to get your book signed. His eyes narrowed with an unreadable intensity as he watched the author engage you in conversation. The author's questions seemed to linger a bit too long, and Simon, ever vigilant, detected subtle undercurrents of flirtation that you, in your excitement, remained blissfully unaware of.

Unbeknownst to you, Simon had subtly positioned himself right behind you, an almost protective aura surrounding him as he kept a watchful eye on the exchange. His gaze hardened when he noticed the author beginning to write something other than a typical autograph—numbers, perhaps. The scratch of the pen abruptly stopped as Simon cleared his throat.

Simon loomed over your shoulder, an unmistakable death glare fixed upon the author. The author's smile wavered as he met Simon's intense gaze. Hesitatingly, he put his pen down and closed the book, offering a swift, somewhat forced farewell, sensing the change in atmosphere. 

Simon's protective stance remained, sending a clear message that your excitement was to be respected, but not exploited. His hand subconcously went to your upper back as he guided you away from the table. 

You showed him the autograph, and he hummed before checking his watch, “The raffle is about to start; we should go to the main room.” You nodded, and you both walked over to where everyone was gathered. They began calling out the names for the smaller prizes, the gift baskets, and fifty-dollar gift cards. Neither of you won those, which was good since the people who got those prizes could no longer win the grand prize.

“We will now pull the name of the winner of the five hundred dollar grand prize!” The room was silent as everyone watched him reach into the bowl and grab a slip of paper. He opened it and paused for a few seconds.

“Simon Riley!”

You gasped and turned to him, hugging his arm and shaking it, “Si, you won! Oh my god!”

“Everyone whose name was called can pick up their prize before leaving at the main desk.”

“Bloody hell, I did,” Simon smiled as you shook his arm again, “You just won five hundred dollars to Barnes and Noble! Do you know how many books you can get?!” Simon laughed at the fact that you were more excited than he was. He had already told himself that if he won, he would give it to you since he had more than enough money to buy books.

You were now on your way back home, going back and forth after Simon told you to keep the gift card. “Si, you won the raffle; I can't take it from you.”

“Love, I insist. I don't need it; I know you go through books quickly.”

“Si, I'll feel bad if I take it from you.”

“You can't refuse a gift, love.” You opened your mouth to protest but then sighed. He was right; if you tried gifting him something and he refused, it would break your heart.

“Fine, but I'll make it up to you.”

“Mm, maybe tea on the house?” You laughed and nodded, “Fine, tea on the house.”

As Simon pulled into your driveway, a slight sinking feeling settled in your chest, knowing that your time together was coming to an end. The day had been nothing short of amazing, and over the past month, you and Simon had grown remarkably close. Now, with the engine humming to a stop, you wondered whether it was the right time to express your feelings.

Thoughts swirled in your mind, wondering if he felt the same way. The connection you felt with Simon was special, and you found yourself yearning to spend more time in his company. His smile, his voice—everything about him seemed to captivate you. 

As he walked you to the door, you turned around and looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips. The moment felt significant, and you couldn't bear the thought of going another day without telling him how you felt. 

"I had such an amazing day today," you began, meeting his eyes with sincerity. "Thank you for everything. I honestly can't remember the last time I had this much fun... Your company means a lot to me."

Simon's smile softened, and he looked at you attentively. "I'm glad you had a good time”

Say it Simon, say you enjoyed being with her too.

“...I um… I enjoy spending time with you too," Simon's expression remained warm, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still.

Encouraged by his response, you both find yourselves face to face, the air charged with a subtle tension. Simon stands extremely close to you as he gazes down, and you meet his eyes, feeling a connection.

The moment seems to stretch on forever, and in the warmth of the shared silence, you decide to make the first move.

As you slightly leaned in, hoping to bridge the gap with a kiss, Simon unexpectedly leaned back on instinct, causing you to pull back, your heart sinking a bit.

The air shifted, and you took a step back, searching for clues in his eyes. There was a pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging between you. Simon's wide gaze remained fixed on yours, leaving the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

Simon watched as the pain of rejection etched itself onto your face, and in that moment, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. Why had he pulled away? Was it fear? Fear of letting himself be vulnerable to love? Fear of admitting that he cared deeply for someone? Fear that if you knew the real him, you might turn your back on him? Fear of not being good enough for someone as perfect as you?

Seeing the hurt in your eyes, Simon felt an ache in his chest, and the weight of his actions pressed down on him. He tried to find the right words, his brain going a million miles per hour, but all he managed to utter was a sincere, "I'm sorry."

The apology hung in the air, and Simon desperately wished he could articulate the maelstrom of emotions within him. The fear that had driven him to pull away now seemed like a barrier between what he desired and what he feared.

In that vulnerable moment, he struggled to make sense of his own feelings and reconcile them with the connection he felt with you. The air between you was heavy with unspoken words, and Simon knew he owed you an explanation.

He takes a step forward, desperation in his eyes, but you instinctively take a step back, your hand raised as if to stop him. "No, it's okay," you assure him, managing a small, understanding smile. "I understand."

Simon, desperately wanting to explain, takes a breath, "It's not what you think—"

Cutting him off gently, you shake your head, "It's okay. You don't need to explain yourself. I understand." Despite your attempt to hold back the tears, your eyes water, reflecting a mix of understanding and hurt.

“Thank you again for today simon, goodnight.”

Simon's heart splits as he sees your eyes water, and he's left standing there on your doorstep, feeling the weight of his choices. Silently, you turn away, leaving him outside as you retreat into the comfort of your home. Behind closed doors, you let the tears flow, the soft sobs muffled against your pillow.

[solbaby7]

A Guy Who Takes His Time

pairing: azriel x burlesque!reader

warnings: nothing really, just me watching Burlesque and yet again not having any form of self-control

summary: The High Lord takes his two brothers to a Burlesque show to take in and watch the finer things in life—you.

—

String pearls.

Tassels.

Waiting staff wearing skimpy little skirts and tops that earned plenty of stares and even more tips teased into the dip of their bustier.

Liquor flowed and desire pulsed hotter than any of the dimly glowing lights hanging from the ceiling. “You’re up in five,” Tess’ voice shouts through the changing room as you shimmy your next number on.

Ten years here and still you’d never get tired of the confidence that ebbed from your form when wearing nothing but leather and diamonds, feathers and pearls, lace and miles and miles of bare skin. Someone’s touching up your makeup, probably Sean with a brush coated in a lipstick a brighter red than the blood pulsing in your veins and when the stage lights go black, you know it’s time. “Wish me luck.”

Tess swats at your ass, a playful smile on regal features. “You don’t need it.”

You take your place, the slow drag of your heels against the stage is the only sound in the whole bar and you can feel yourself shift into the persona that takes place to exude the role you’re playing. The crowd is full, every seat occupied and even then there are more filtering in, standing in the corners with drinks in their hands and eyes trained on the stage—on you.

One group catches your eye, placed smack dab in the middle of the room is a trio of men; powerful, that much is obvious even with their plainclothes on but there’s no time to ponder when the music begins and a bright light shines on you.

A two, eight count pause while the band sets the mood and you’ll never grow tired of the way the crowd shifts in their seats when you begin to sing.

Oh, oh, oh, oh

A guy who takes his time, I’ll go for anytime

Countless hours of dancing, training the moves over and over until you were ready to rip your hair out from the root when Tess kept telling you to be aware of every part of your body.

Presence.

Engagement.

Confidence.

It repeated in your brain like a mantra.

“If you let them make you believe you don’t belong on that stage—that you don’t own that stage then you don’t have any business being up there in the first place.” She’d drilled into you after applying ointment to the blisters on your feet, wrapping them in bandages thick enough that it didn’t irritate in your high heels.

Presence.

Your hands rake over your body, fingers hooking into the see through cover-up and sliding it off your shoulders. You can feel their eyes follow the clothing drop to the ground; the air charged with anticipation, wondering exactly how much you were planning on taking off while looking so pretty doing it.

I’m a fast-moving gal who likes ‘em slow

You’re eyes catch on that group in the middle, sliding over their faces while you continue your routine and while you were supposed to stay up here, you can’t help the way your body slinks off of the edge of the stage, back arching like a stretching feline.

Got no use for fancy drivin’, want to see a guy arrivin’ in low

The lights follow your every move, back-up dancers filling up the space you’d left occupied but it’s like you’d taken the stage with you—attendees twisting in their chairs, necks craning and eyes glued on you as you ease through the tables.

Engagement.

You stop by one male, dressed nicer than most and the cocky smirk he sends his group of friends makes your fingers itch to bring him down a peg. Your palm ruffles through his pristinely styled hair, painted nails tracing down his neck and you pause as cup your hand around his throat. A public display of dominance—of who really ran this fucking show and commanded the attention of everyone who’d handed over their hard-earned money just to watch you prance around in your tiny little clothes and sing just like you did at home when no one was looking. There’s a ring on his finger and you make sure to loosen up the tie around his neck, pressing a red kiss on your hand to smear over his mouth before leaving as if you’d never ever seen him.

I’d be satisfied, electrified to know a guy what takes his time

A hurry-up affair, I always give the air

The three men in the middle are even more handsome up close, you realize. The thin material of your tights brushing their knees and you see the one in the middle tense—happily taken, you conclude.

A huge part of your job was reading body language, understanding the people in your crowd without truly exchanging words and he sends you a grateful smile when you casually avoid him.

His other two friends were fair game, both with inky black hair but while ones was cropped short at the shoulder, the other; it was clear there was even more hiding in that bun at the nape of his neck. Their wings are tucked tight behind them, a silent warning not to touch without permission and you’re careful when extending your hand.

The one of the left comes to your aid without hesitation, eyes wide with awe as the alluring scent of your perfume washed over him. His hand is slightly calloused in yours as he helps you onto the table before them, lights shifting with your new position with ease and you can feel a few of the male bar staff gravitate a little closer—trained to ensure the safety of the dancers above all else.

Confidence.

Your routine continues without a hitch, moves coming to you like second nature. Exaggerated movements that didn’t seem so obvious when the rest of your body followed suit so smoothly, hips slow when you put on a show and you’re certain they’re staring at the pearl thong shoved up your ass when you bend at the hips slowly.

You could hear Tess’ voice in your head. “Balance, baby. Every naughty move has to be followed by something soft and sweet. I can’t explain it but it just adds to the allure.”

And while one friend is eager to appease you, the one on the right pretends you aren’t even there. A brow quirks—finally, a challenge.

You voice carries through the space, a picture worth painting when gently pressing a heel to his chest. It forces his gaze, hazel eyes burning as he looks at you for what seems like the first time the whole night and you try to ignore the chill that runs down your spine—like you’d met him before, known him from somewhere but you can’t quite put your finger on it and you’re certain he catches the way your eye squints down at him.

Your head shakes slightly, as if physically pulling yourself free from the feeling and the cool mask you wore when performing slid back into place when reaching for his hand. You can feel his whole body tense and he waits for you to recoil, to pull your hand back but you truly make no indication that you could even feel the misshapen scars there and it’s then when you gain his full attention.

Hazel eyes boring into yours like you were a puzzle he had to solve in five minutes or less and the clock was tick, tick, ticking away.

It surprises you; the way your body reacts to the slow drag of his palm up your thigh and you don’t stop until it’s reached the little clip at the top holding your stocking in place. His throat bobs when it flicks open with a click, sheer material pliant and loose and sliding down the length of leg you’d guided him up before but this time he does it on his own.

Everyone else seems to melt away when you stare at the way he does it, seemingly captivated by the truly bared skin and when it’s bunched at your ankles he makes gentle work of slipping off your heel, planting a kiss on the flesh toned bandage wrapped just under your big toe. The fabric falls free from your body, heel back in place and your steps are a little wobbly when you retract, Luca; one of the newer staff security subtly raising an arm to stabilize you.

Oh a guy what takes his time, I’d go for every time

A hasty job really spoils a master’s touch

It takes every bone in your body to step away, to finish your set–on stage where you were supposed to be but every step felt like you were leaving behind something you didn’t even realize you were missing. And when you finish off the final note, the lights go dark and the curtains close.

You’re rushed back to the fitting room to change for the next set and the whole time you’re shaking in anticipation, waiting for the chance to see him again but when you go to finish your final number—he’s not there.

In fact, all three of them had left, their table cleaned and another group was being ushered to sit in their place. You shun away the disappointment, silently cursing yourself at the distraction and in an instant you’re back—cool and calm.

This was your stage. You owned it and no one could ever take it from you.

Presence.

Engagement.

Confidence.

The curtains rose and the light snapped to light, focused right on you and you’re sure you did well, judging by the cheers outside when your pushed to the back room, drinks already being brought in and you’re searching for Tess but she’s nowhere to be found. “Tess?” You call out for her, rounding the corner to the dressing rooms, eyes scanning over the empty office before going to the makeup tables and you freeze. “Tess, I need help. I can never get out of this one without breaking the zipper—“

Because sitting at your spot, eyes trained on a framed picture of you and all the girls on some trip you’d taken a few years back—was him.

“You’re not, Tess.”

“No,” He answers and his voice sends a shiver up your spine.

Suddenly, it feels too quiet in here and you’re more aware of the fact that everyone is surely already changed and filtering out for food and drinks after a long night but you can’t bring yourself to tell them to wait for you. “You’re not really supposed to be back here.”

“No? Well, I spoke to woman who claims she owns this bar and she told me I could wait for you here.”

Tess.

It’s then you seem to notice the flowers, a pretty bouquet obviously hand picked from the garden that Tess’ best friend Sean liked to tend to during the day but you don’t point it out. Instead, you look at them like it’s the first time ever seeing such colors on soft petals . “Those for me?”

“They are.” He hands them over almost nervously, pinky finger twitching when your hands grazes his own.

Your eyes flutter shut when you take in their smell, comforting and familiar and everything you could’ve ever wanted. “And who am I to thank for such lovely flowers?”

He’s behind you when he answers, fingers ghosting over the zipper stuck between your shoulder blades and your heart hammers against your chest when his knuckles graze your back as the fabric split down, down, down until you were clutching it in place at your chest. “Azriel,” His name is whispered on your shoulder, breath catching in your throat at the close proximity and every bone in your body is screaming for him to touch you; somewhere, anywhere. “But for now, I’d like to just be a guy who takes things slow.” Your heart skips a beat, excitement and interest and all of the perfect crush forming feelings beginning their dance in your belly when he finishes softly. “You hungry?”

The smile he pulls from you is genuine, eyes sparkling when you look up at him. “Starved.”

“Come on—change. I know a place.”

[tetsuswaifu]

ahh you know how Kuroo always looks out for others and has a confident facade pretty much always. imagine timskip kuroo breaking down after a long day and needing comfort (ToT)/~~~ only wanting to feel yn feeding him or touching us hair lol 🙈

Don't Worry, I've Got You

word count: 785-f!reader

a/n: he just does so much for others and forgets to take care of himself ｡ﾟ･（>﹏<）･ﾟ｡ i just want him to feel better and not so stressed, thank you again for the request, i hope you have a wonderful day/night love ! 🫶🏼

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated, thank you for taking the time to read my work :)

Kuroo Tetsurō prided himself on his ability to handle anything that came his way. His confident demeanor acted as his suit of armor, aiding him in any situation. But sometimes, even the most unshakable façades cracked under the weight of life’s pressures.

It was late in the evening when you finally heard the front door of your shared apartment open and close softly. The sound of keys of keys being placed on the entryway table and the quiet thud of shoes being removed followed. You glanced at the clock, frowning. He had been gone from home since 6 am and now it was late evening. Kuroo’s work days had been growing longer and more stressful, and tonight was no exception. You had noticed the signs for weeks now—the longer hours, the deeper frowns, the way he would zone out even when you were talking.

He came in silent and visibly drained with his shoulders slumped and his eyes blank. He barely managed a tired smile in your direction before heading straight to the bedroom.

You followed, your heart aching for him. By the time you reached the bedroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Without saying a word, you immediately sat on the bed next to him.

"Tetsuro," you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. "Come here."

You wrapped your arms around him while you laid back. One hand gently running through his hair, while the other rubbed up and down his back. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to his body.

"It's too much sometimes," he softly confessed, his voice muffled against your shirt. "I don't know if I can do this," his voice barely above a whisper. It was a crack in his façade, and it broke your heart to see him like this.

"You're not alone, Tetsurō," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It's okay to have moments where you need support. I'm here for you. Always. The burden is not just yours to carry, let me share that burden for you."

He sighed, a long, shuddering breath, and you felt some tension leave his body. He held you tighter with his arms, not wanting to let go of his entire world. "I just... I don't want you to see me like this," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"But I want to," you insisted softly. "I want to be here for you, in all the ways that matter. I want to see all sides of you, even the ones you try to hide. Especially those," you tilted his chin up to you, so you could look into his eyes. "Because I love you, Tetsurō. Every part of you."

His eyes looked at you with gratefulness and vulnerability. He shifted slightly, a tear slipped down his cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb, pulling him closer into your arms. He clung to you, his strong form trembling slightly as he finally allowed himself to let go. You held him close, whispering reassurances and stroking his hair.

"I'm here, my love," you repeated, over and over, until the words became a soothing mantra. "I'm here, and I love you."

Eventually, the tension in his body began to ease. The weight of the day, and the pressure began to lift. In your arms, he found the comfort and solace he desperately needed. For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet of the room was filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing, the steady rhythm providing a sense of calm.

"Thank you," he murmured against your shoulder, his voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. He moved his head to look up at you, "I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you promised with a soft kiss to his lips. "We're in this together, Tetsurō. No matter what." A moment of silence passed, "I'm so tired," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I know," you replied, your voice tender. "You can rest, love. I've got you."

He nodded slightly, and within moments, you felt his breathing even out as he drifted into a much-needed sleep. You continued to hold him, your heart swelling with love and a fierce determination to be his safe haven.

As you lay there, comforting the man who always seemed so unbreakable, you realized that this moment of vulnerability only made your bond stronger. Kuroo Tetsurō might be the pillar of strength for so many, but here, in your arms, he could find his own refuge. And you would always be there, ready to catch him whenever he fell.

[lucialauruce]

SUNGHOON X FEMREADER

Never thought that you'll reach your limit with him.

Warnings: Oral penetration, Overstimulation, Backshots, Manhandling, Domination, Squ!rting, Fingering. Lot of wrong grammar (sorry not sorry)

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Sunghoon and I got in a big argument after knowing that he made a decision without my consent. I followed him inside our our house and we began shouting towards each other like the earlier argument was not enough for us.

“How many times do I have to repeat to you that it was just a small fucking contract!” He yelled at me while throwing his hand out. “But you still didn’t tell me! What if it cost your life? Your business?!” I yelled back "You're being dramatic!" He yelled to me, without thinking I pushed his body out of frustration that made him dumbfounded after my unaware action. “D-did you just-?” My eyes widened in shock after realizing what I just did. He made a hissed sound and clenched his jaw. “You’re going to regret it.” He spat on me. Oh fuck-

I cried out as my heart thumbs loudly on my chest while he kept thrusting his dick on my insides, hitting all my sweet spots that made my mind all white and blur. “F-fuck…y-you’re so…tight.” He groaned on my ear as he kept my legs open wide and close on my chest, folding me down in uncomfortable position but his member reached deep in my limit that made my eyes rolled back in my head. “Th- Gah.”

I choked out and try to let out some words. He slapped my face and gripped on my chin to pucker my lips open before spitting inside. “What a dumb fuck girlfriend I have here.” He chuckled above me while he brutally thrust inside me. He groaned from his chest and put his veiny hand around my neck. “Ahh…I can’t get enough of you, My love.” He gritted his teeth, adjusting himself until he hit me more deeper that made me scream out in pain and pure pleasure. Shakily lifting my hand up to hold on his shoulder while the bed creaks loudly under us because of his hard intense thrust. “F-fuck..Hoonie..s-slow down.” I breath out, choking on my breath and thrown my head back, feeling the unfamiliar sensation from my stomach. “C-coming…Fuck I’m coming.” I groaned as he continue to brutally ruin my spots. I shuddered, coming hard and squirted around his cock, on his abdomen that creates a sticky mess on our sweaty skin. “Fuck, that’s hot. Give me another one, love. Come on.” I screamed and gripped on the sheets harder as I cried out in oversensitivity. I started to feel myself again on the edge and squirted for a second time. “Ahh..fuck just like that.” He groaned, clearly enjoying the scene. “I c-can’t anymore….Tired.” I panted beneath him and tapped his shoulder but he didn’t stop his movements and instead, he pulled out and flipped me on my stomach that made me lay still. I could feel his body move closer behind me, pressing his weight on my back and put his lips close on the shell of my ear while caressing my body with his rough warm hands upwards to my chest, squeezing my breasts using the palm of his hand before thrusting back his dick inside me and I sobbed out in sensitivity. “Who told you we’re done? We still have a lot of time to say sorry to each other, hmm?” I hold my breath after hearing his words before he slammed my head down on the mattress and thrust in animalistic pace behind me, making my moans and cries muffle on the mattress, Drool kept falling from my lips while moaning his name like a mantra. “Ahh...I f-fucking l-love you..so much. I can't get enough of you.” He mutter between his breaths while he continue to ruin me until I’m out of breath..........

I feel drained (haha)

[fafnir19]

Cocky Rowing

It all began when I stumbled upon a beginner's rowing course at my university. Initially, I thought it would be a casual form of exercise, a delightful change from the mundane routine of studying and lectures. Once a week, I'd take to the water, finding myself captivated by the rhythm of the oars and the gentle lull of the waves. On this particular day, however, my routine was about to take an unexpected turn. I found myself in the changing room of the rowing club, amidst the hustle and bustle of the competitive sports team getting ready for their training session. As I fumbled with my rowing gear, they approached me, a sense of urgency in their voices.

"Hey, are you a rower too?" one of them asked, eyeing me curiously. "Well, I've been taking a beginner's course. I'm not really at your level," I admitted, feeling a bit out of place among these seasoned athletes. "We're short one rower for the eights. Would you like to join us? You seem pretty fit," another athlete offered, waving me over to their group. I hesitated for a moment, feeling uncertain about joining them. "I'm not sure if I can keep up with you guys," I confessed, feeling a bit intimidated. "Don't worry, all you need to do is swing a bit. You'll manage just fine," they reassured me, their friendly smiles putting me at ease. Encouraged by their confidence in me, I finally agreed and followed them to the boat. As we rowed, I found my rhythm and felt a surge of exhilaration coursing through my veins. This was a whole new level of rowing, and I was loving every moment of it.

However, as the training session went on, I started feeling the strain on my muscles. I wasn't used to this level of exertion. "Come on, Leon, you've got this!" the coach hollered, pushing us to give it our all. "Exhaustion is all in the mind. Straighten your upper body immediately after each stroke. Envision yourselves as magnificent, erect cockes, proud and strong!" I couldn't help but find the coach's choice of words quite peculiar and frankly suggestive, but I tried to focus on the rowing, putting the strange words out of my mind. The training proved to be incredibly challenging, leaving me barely able to form coherent thoughts. The coach kept repeating the same mantra, urging us to think of ourselves as proud, erect cockes. It was becoming increasingly bizarre, but I pushed through the exhaustion, determined to prove myself. Finally, the grueling training concluded, and the athletes thanked me, commending my performance and expressing gratitude for stepping in as the missing rower was ill. It was then that they asked me if I could fill in for the upcoming weeks, not wanting to let the university team down. Without giving it much thought, I agreed. Now training nine times a week, any worries I had vanished the moment I set foot in the boat. My only thought was that of being a proud, erect cock, just as the coach had drilled into us.

However, things took an unexpected turn when the coach decided that I should row a double scull with Trevor, a handsome and accomplished rower who exuded an air of arrogance and smugness that I couldn't stand. "Great, now I have to deal with Trevor," I grumbled inwardly as we prepared for our first session together. True to my expectations, Trevor lived up to his reputation, making snide remarks and acting as if he was doing me a favor by rowing with me. "Alright, Leon, just focus on mimicking my movements. I'll do the thinking for both of us," Trevor declared, his overbearing demeanor grating on my nerves.

Despite our best efforts, our rowing didn't quite mesh. The trainer took it upon himself to explain gently: “Leon, imitate Trevor’s movements. He is the stroke and he decides what happens in the boat. Remember: you're just a cock made of muscles and sperm cords that can't think." I was taken aback by the coach's comparison, but I bit my tongue and tried to focus on improving our synchronization.

Over time, things improved between Trevor and me, and I found myself becoming incredibly athletic from the frequent training. As much as I disliked Trevor, I couldn't deny the positive impact the rigorous sessions had on my physique and stamina. After a particularly grueling practice, as we docked the boat, the coach posed a question to me: "Leon, what are you?" Without hesitation, I responded, "I am a cock composed of muscles and seminal cords," parroting the coach's words without a second thought. Later, as we grabbed ice cream, the vendor asked me what flavors I wanted, and suddenly, I found myself at a loss, glancing at Trevor for guidance. "He'll have strawberry and vanilla," Trevor decided, taking charge of the situation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As we continued our intense training regimen, Trevor suggested that I would show off my muscles better if I shaved off my body hair, stating that cockes didn't have hair. I saw the logic in his words and proceeded to rid myself of any visible body hair. Before I knew it, Trevor's influence extended beyond rowing sessions. He began making decisions for me, from my workout routines to my diet and even my wardrobe. I was slowly but surely being molded into his image.

"Leon, what's our training goal?" the coach asked one day, directing the question to me. My mind immediately turned to Trevor, waiting for his prompt before responding, "Trevor should answer that." "Our aim is the Olympics," Trevor stated confidently, leaving no room for argument. The coach smiled contentedly, remarking that his methods had evidently been successful, and this time, Trevor's training partner wouldn't be bailing on them. Unbeknownst to me, I had become Trevor's perfect and obedient training partner, my thoughts consumed by the singular focus of growing muscles, obeying Trevor, fulfilling our shared ambition and to fuck.

As the days passed, I found myself drifting further under Trevor's influence, and my own desires and motivations became secondary to his commands. It was after a training session under the showers that Trevor made it abundantly clear just how deeply entrenched his hold over me had become. "You are mine, Leon. Mine to shape and mold as I see fit," he whispered, his words sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't deny the thrum of excitement that coursed through me, knowing that I was completely under his control, giving myself over to his every whim and fancy. With each passing day, I became more like an extension of Trevor, my every action and thought aligned with his desires. Finally, at the peak of our training, as we stood on the brink of our Olympic aspirations, Trevor's words echoed in my mind: "You are mine, Leon. Mine to shape and mold as I see fit." And as the final race approached, my only thought was to grow muscles, to obey Trevor, and to soar to glory together as a proud, erect cock devoted to my master.

In my mind I had become Trevor's virile cock, ready to conquer the world at his command. And so, I rowed on, driven by an unwavering devotion to my master, blissfully unaware of the depths of my submission.

[gayhoediaz]

jell-o

(inspired by reply i left on one of @texasbama's posts)

T | 1k | also on ao3

“I feel like jello.”

The words follow a few long moments of silence as they struggle to catch their breath, panting as they stare up at the ceiling of Eddie’s dimly lit bedroom. 

It’s a fairly normal thing to say after an orgasm like that - Buck could huff in amusement, say ‘Me too,’ except Eddie isn’t praising his skills in bed. His voice is not drenched in happiness and the wonder of afterglow - it sounds… thick. Buck can read Eddie like the back of his own hand, even without looking at him. Eddie is not sad - not at all. Although, he's certainly… emotional. 

Buck swallows, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. 

After he pulled out, they ended up falling onto their backs like two people on a sitcom after having off-screen sex, needing the space to cool their body temperatures down - but now he moves his hand, blindly reaching until it finds Eddie’s. Eddie immediately responds to the touch, lacing their fingers together.

Buck squeezes. Eddie squeezes back. 

Buck wants to say something, but he doesn’t. It doesn’t feel as if it’s what Eddie needs right now. It feels as if he’s gathering up the courage to elaborate, himself. So Buck gives him the time he needs, waiting patiently.

Another few beats pass. Buck remains quiet - moves the pad of his thumb back and forth over the back of Eddie’s - soothing him. 

“I, uh…” Eddie finally continues, trailing off to swallow, the click of his throat audible in the silence of the room. “I used to have to use that every time Marisol and I - I uh…” He stutters a little bit - which isn’t usually his thing, it tends to be Buck’s. “I - we-“ he stutters some more, his voice growing thicker. 

Buck sighs, gently slipping his hand out of Eddie’s only to roll himself up onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow, eyes falling upon Eddie’s flushed face. 

Sinking the hand into his hair, soothingly combing his fingers through the sweat-damp strands, he slips his other hand into Eddie’s instead, giving another reassuring squeeze. 

Eddie’s eyes are closed, but the warm light of the bedside table lamp highlights the slight wetness collected around the corner of his eye. Buck leans down - just barely brushing his lips over the area. Eddie swallows again, squeezing his hand. 

“With Shannon, things were… things were good, with Ana, I used to just… close my eyes. Wait for it to be over, you know, but with Marisol, I… I used to, uh… I had to use that.” 

“You used to have panic attacks?” Buck can’t help but breathe, his chest aching. “With her?” 

“No.” The word leaves Eddie’s mouth with a sad huff of amusement, as he finally opens his eyes, immediately finding Buck’s. “Almost,” he says, then. “Every time, I just… I used to repeat it, it was always this mantra in my head,” he says, bringing his free hand up to gesture towards his own temple. “Everything was okay. I wasn’t in danger. My legs were jello, my arms, my chest, my head, I was a giant…”

“…Eddie shaped jello mold,” Buck finishes softly. Eddie nods. 

Buck swallows down the anger he feels at Marisol. 

Rationally, he recognizes that she didn’t do anything wrong - likely didn’t have any idea whatsoever, because if there is one thing Eddie is good at, it’s compartmentalizing and pretending that everything is okay - especially when it comes to people that ultimately don't know him all that well. 

Irrationally, however, the thought of her touching him when he didn’t enjoy it makes Buck want to vomit. So much so that he apparently makes a face he’s not aware of, because the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches up of amusement, a huff leaving his nose as he reaches a hand across his own body, and up to fit his palm against the side of Buck’s face, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. 

Buck’s heart immediately calms down. He sighs, giving his other hand one last squeeze before he lets go, moving it to wrap around his wrist instead, nodding once to nuzzle his cheek deeper into his cupped palm. 

“It was on me,” Eddie assures him. “I shouldn’t have forced myself to-“ he cuts himself off when Buck makes a slight huff in his throat. It may not have been her fault, but it wasn’t yours either, is what he wants to say - but instead, he nods, allowing Eddie to go on. “…anyway, I just - it… kept the panic at bay, but it didn’t really… work, you know? I didn’t feel…” he trails off again, shrugging best as he can while laying down. “Didn’t feel right, I never felt…” 

“…like jello,” Buck hums. 

“It helped - kept me from... panicking completely, but I never actually felt... like jello - not in those moments.” 

“And jello is calm - relaxed,” Buck hums. 

“Safe, yeah.” 

“If you felt safe, you uh… you wouldn’t have to remind yourself you feel safe,” he says, briefly turning his head to press his lips to Eddie’s palm. Eddie hums, nodding. “But you’re jello now?” Buck asks, allowing a hint of lightheartedness to slip into his tone as he fits his cheek back into the palm of Eddie’s hand. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says, the slight twitch of his mouth melting into a full smile. “You didn’t see my legs shaking?” 

At that, Buck barks out a laugh - loud enough that he has to tilt his head back, eyes briefly falling closed; Eddie’s own chuckles harmonize with his own - and when their eyes meet once again, Eddie’s smile has grown into a full grin, the previous red-flushed tone of his eyes nowhere to be seen. 

“I did,” Buck assures him, leaning down to bring his lips closer to Eddie’s. “I did see that.” 

“Think you can make it happen again?” Eddie teases, his hand slipping up past Buck’s cheek, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as Buck lets go of his wrist, reaching down and across Eddie’s body to find a grip on the outside of his thigh, pulling it over to lay over his own. A few warm, happy chuckles sound somewhere deep in Eddie’s throat, and Buck nods once, only to brush the tips of their noses together. 

“Mhm,” he assures him. “And again.”