#that I might sound very know it all here so of course there’s a chance I could be wrong since I haven’t actually spoken to Harlan

[samglyph]

Hey do you think Kayne calling Dark Arthur Darthur is a reference to the ship name Jarthur? Do you have any thoughts on this?

No, Darthur is a reference to a lot of other fictional characters that have been called “d[insert character name] or “dark [insert character name]” whenever that character has an evil version. This is usually a fan thing and might be a nod to Kayne treating Arthur and John like a show he likes.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.  

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."  

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."  

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.  

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."  

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.  

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."  

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.  

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--" 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.  

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."  

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.  

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties.  As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu." 

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.  

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.  

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."  

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?" 

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.  

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?" 

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.  

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten. 

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component. 

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.  

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity. 

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this!

feedback | masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli

@tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely

@whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @harryhitties

@mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton @youcan-nolonger-run @prettythingsworld   @chesthairrry

@becauseheartsgetbroken-hs   @hisparentsgallerryy @storyschanging   @selluequestrian   @islakp217 @swiftmendeshoran @princessaxoxo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hermoinelove @chronicallybubbly @angeldavis777

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 11)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Your heart could very well have stopped beating and you’d be none the wiser.

By now, you’ve experienced fear in all its varietals. The stomach churning and the latent, the languid; the swift moving silverfish slipping out of your grasp. The monstrous rising beast of it the day you turned around to find the master of the house turning the lock on the door and trapping you in with him. Then the delayed panic in the aftermath of bringing the bust down over his head and hearing his skull crack under its weight, the blood pooling around his body, almost aureole-like. Pondering the miraculous like, well, isn’t that just the devil of it. A halo for a man intent on your ruin.

 The fear washing over you now is entirely new though. Like a rapid exhalation. Of course you were right all along . Right to expect the devil showing up on your doorstep. The weeks of silence had imbued you with a sense of confidence. An arrogant, undeserved confidence that whispered in your ear to let your guard down. 

But you know now that the world is not large enough to hide in. It is a wasteland of false prophets and false directions. There are no second chances.

The only consolation is the silence from the man behind the counter as he studies the warrant. You imagine him standing there giving it a good once over, his face maybe scrunching up as it calls to mind the woman that just walked through his door. You wonder if they thought to add a sketch of your likeness, whether there’ll be a woman on the warrant that looks an awful lot like you. 

You stay put behind the shelf though, not risking so much as a peep. 

“Any information you might have would be much obliged,” Graves says, trying to coax an answer out.

After a few more seconds, the shop attendant answers with a rueful, “Can’t say I have, sir. You want me to leave this with the sheriff?”

Graves breathes out through his nose in frustration. “Now, are you positive about that? Take a closer look—I don’t mind waitin’ a bit longer for you to sift through your memories. I’m sure a town as big as this must get passersby from time to time.”

“No. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m certain. Never seen a woman fitting this description or name. Couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a stranger come through town and stay longer than a day.”

“I see.” It’s hard to tell whether Graves takes him at his word or not. The aura of menace that the man exudes suggests that anything said to him might rouse his suspicions. That they’ve already been roused, in fact. It makes even you second guess the man behind the counter, wondering if perhaps he knows and simply stays his tongue. 

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Still want me to pass this along to the sheriff?”

The floorboards creak under his feet when Graves takes a step back. “If you don’t mind. Been having the darndest time tryin’ to track down the man and, frankly, I’ve got other obligations. I do appreciate your time though.”

You stay hidden behind the shelf, listening to the sound of the spurs on his boots rattling as he leaves. The chime on the door jingles when it slams shut. You flinch at the sound. For a minute after his departure, you wonder if the door will burst back open and he’ll come crashing in, heading straight for the back to haul you out by your hair.  

A minute passes and nothing happens. The floor beneath you still feels like it might give out at any moment.

When you take your first step, the nausea comes rushing up. 

“Mrs. Price,” the shop attendant says, perking up at the sight of you coming out from behind the shelf. “I forgot you were still here.”

You feel like an automaton or a ball-jointed doll, your movements stiff as you approach him. Morbidly curious as to what you’ll see on the warrant spread out on the counter separating the two of you. When you look down, your breath comes shuddering out. 

The sketch on the paper does bear a passing resemblance to you, but only if you squint. Nothing that anyone could point to and claim with certainty that it depicts you. Underneath the sketch, you balk when you see your real name. It’s jarring to even look at. Though you’ve gone most of your life answering to it, the past few weeks have disabused you of any connection to it. Now, you feel permeable, malleable—a substance that has been reshaped into something new. That girl on the warrant is gone now. Done and dusted. So detached from memory that even the sketch of her depicts someone else, proves false. 

Still, you’re shaken by how close he’d gotten. Supposing Graves had come in while you’d been within sight. Supposing he’d looked you in the eye and asked you directly, and you’d stuttered under his sharklike gaze and drawn further scrutiny. You almost can’t believe how close it’d grazed you. The sharp edge of fate like a blade now sheathed again. 

“Would you mind taking this to the sheriff?” he asks, not realizing the gift he’s given you. “I’m a bit tied up minding the shop.”

You nod wordlessly and take the folded up warrant from him.

It burns red hot in your hands when you step outside. You glance around nervously, unsure as to whether Graves had stuck around to question more people. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were still within earshot. 

You waver in the street with the folded piece of paper tucked in your hands. A horse pulling along a cart laden with firewood creaks as it passes, rousing you from the trance you’d fallen into. You flinch, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s blinding suddenly. A clear sky, the clouds long since taken away by the wind. 

John could be anywhere at this time of day. Despite the fear curdling in your belly, you can’t help the knee jerk reaction to go to him. That’s precisely what you don’t want to do though. You don’t want to be around the county sheriff on the day a bounty hunter came into town looking for you. 

A crow sitting on the roof of a building across the street caws and flaps its wings, taking off into the sky. 

You want to be anywhere but in town waiting anxiously for John to come find you. You don’t want to lay eyes on him and see that he’s found you out. The thought of John finding out about the man you killed back east is beyond contemplation. It nearly has you keeling over in the middle of the street. You can hardly bear the thought. How could you bear to live a moment beyond that, withering under his disapproval? His contempt? 

You don’t think you can.

Every shadow fills you with dread. A barmaid comes out to toss a bucket of dirty water in the alley and you flinch like you’ve been caught. You keep your head down as you walk, eyes straight on the ground. Someone calls out your fake name and you ignore them. 

Your instinct, as usual, is to run. Abscond from the scene of the crime. Even if the thought hurts. Even though you’d let yourself begin to hope that the times of trouble had passed you by. That perhaps you could’ve made a home out here in the middle of nowhere. You should have known that those dreams were just that. You should have known better than to want. These days, it is dangerous to long for anything.

It’s better if you fade from memory like a bad dream, you think when you spot Buttercup fixed to the post outside the sheriff’s office. Better if they think of you with a bad taste in their mouth and nothing more. A girl that came and stole their sheriff’s heart and his horse and then vanished into the night. 

When one of her black eyes fixes on you, you still in your advance. A horse can’t possibly read your intentions, but you feel like she does somehow. Like she knows you intend to take her and flee. She shifts, hooves coming up and back down, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly, nerves taking on. You won’t let yourself be ruled by them though. There are bigger things to fear.  

��Come on, Buttercup,” you whisper, hesitating before smoothing your hand down her nose. You flinch when she nickers. “I just—I need you to help me, okay?”

It’s an outrageously bad idea. Even to you that’s obvious. You don’t have nearly enough experience riding solo or even with John trailing behind you on another horse to help offer correction if you falter on your own. You’re blinded by fear though, practically shaking as you undo Buttercup’s lead from the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

You’re clumsy trying to hoist yourself up onto her without John to boost you up and hold you steady. It takes a couple of tries before you manage to swing your leg over, and you curse under your breath when your dress bunches up around your waist, exposing the bare flesh of your legs. There aren’t many people roaming the street, fortunately for you.

Buttercup resists at first when you tug lightly on the reins to guide her away. She stomps her foot when you try again, giving a light whinny. Panic seizes you, a coil in your belly. You’ve only ever ridden her before with John at your side; you wonder if she’ll even listen to you in his absence or if even she can tell you’re about to do something foolish and wants nothing to do with it. 

“Please, girl,” you beg. “I promise—I’ll figure out some way to get you back.”

On the third attempt, she finally listens. The way she abruptly breaks into a fast trot nearly sends you toppling over. You catch yourself by clutching the horn, tight enough that your knuckles ache. Your forehead breaks out in a nervous sweat. Buttercup covers ground fast, and without John sitting behind you like a silent sentinel, you feel control slip out of your slippery hands, clammy with sweat too. 

“Whoa, girl,” you breathe, trying to calm her by stroking a hand down her neck. 

It does precious little to calm her down. You remember something John once said about animals smelling fear. They know it like your name. 

You lose control of her fast. Almost in the blink of an eye, you go from steering Buttercup towards John’s house to holding on for dear life. Your body rocks with hers and you’re forced to tighten your thighs around her midsection when she breaks into a gallop, your hands still clinging tight to the reins. Her hooves kick up dust and dirt in her haste, sending it flying behind you. 

“Slow down!” you shout, but the words are swept away by the wind, already behind you. 

Not once have you ever ridden a horse at this speed. Your direction seems like more of a suggestion to Buttercup, and not one she’s inclined to take. The town rapidly vanishes behind you, the vegetation sparse for the first few hundred yards, arid scrubland scorched by the sun and fed off of by the horses and mules coming in and out of town. The sun beats down hot on your head, no hat to shield you from the heat.

You can’t imagine you would’ve been able to hold it down though, you think wildly, mind still in a flurry of panic. It would’ve flown right off ages before. 

Your breath comes out in hitched pants as you clutch with all your might to the horn of the saddle, your hands soon transferring to her mane for better purchase. Buttercup moves like a rogue wave beneath you, like something sailors only speak about in hushed whispers. She takes a wide arc around John’s property, heading towards the mountains instead, and no amount of trying to steer her with your legs seems to work. 

Your head whips back to watch the house pass, the dark shape of it sailing past you, and it nearly causes you to lose your balance. Looking back in front of you only makes it worse. Panic courses through you when you stare ahead only for the world in front of you to spin. Bile creeps up your throat. You swallow it back, but only just.

The half-formulated plan you’d had in mind is long gone. All you can focus on now is remaining astride the horse beating dirt under you. Any thought of bringing her to a halt dissipates. Even the thought of escape evaporates into thin air. 

Only when you feel Buttercup slow to a trot do you peel open your eyes. The breath you let out as you look around is short, panic still churning in your guts.

Over the weeks since John married you and took you home, he’s taken you through the mountains a fair few times, familiarizing you with the land to the best of his abilities in such a short amount of time. But the wilderness stretches far and the terrain beyond John’s homestead is rough, treacherous. 

When you look around, you realize that you don’t recognize this part of the mountainside. 

The trail Buttercup takes you down is cut haphazard into the landscape—a crude, handmade path, not one seared into the ground from frequent travel. It feels distinctly wilder than where you’ve been before. Your head swivels around as you try to look for something that might jog your memory. The striated mountainside tells you nothing. The trees out this deep into the mountains are thicker and older, gnarled root systems bursting up from the earth and coiling around the nearby rocks like snakes winding around their prey. 

You sit up a bit straighter, still shaking when you rub your hand down Buttercup’s neck. “You know where we are, girl?”

She puffs out a breath.

That tells you nothing, but she keeps going down the same path deeper into the woods. No amount of squeezing your thighs or patting her neck gets her to stop. You should be thankful that she’s at least no longer sprinting, that you can actually sit up and catch your breath now, but the fear from earlier is but a paltry shadow compared to that which is brewing in you now. 

Every crick and snapping twig makes your head spin round. You stare intensely past the treeline, searching for the barest hint of motion. You don’t know much about these parts, but you know that this is no place for a woman by her lonesome. Even a man on his own out here might feel jumpy. This far out of the way, only cougars and bears take refuge, and the odd band of outlaws making camp for the night and taking advantage of the relative isolation this far out west. 

“Come on, girl, we can’t be out here,” you whisper, leaning closer to Buttercup to hopefully muffle your voice. Even as low as you speak, it still seems to echo.

You don’t know where you’re meant to go though. In the flurry of panic that had come over you at Graves’ arrival, you’d bolted without thought. Without a compass or map, you’re as good as lost in the unsettled land deep in the mountains. 

As that reality dawns on you, you realize that you haven’t had a drink of water in quite some time. 

An hour must pass with Buttercup stubbornly refusing to listen to your commands to turn back. Maybe longer. She resists even when you pull on the reins. In truth, you don’t blame her. Your commands come feeble, no strength behind them. The fear of being bucked off her back makes you soft. John would be gruff, unyielding—you can’t imagine him giving into fear.

That somehow upsets you even more. You can’t help but wish more than anything that he were here with you. 

The temperature drops as the sun begins to set. Without the sun beating down on you, you shiver in the cold air. There’s nothing to keep you warm other than the clothes on your back. Your lips smack when you part them, parched after hours without water. You haven’t stumbled across a river or stream in the hours since starting down this path.

Then, from behind you, you hear it. 

The name that isn’t yours. You don’t catch it at first until it comes again, louder this time. When you look over your shoulder and down the path behind you, John’s furious face stares back at you, his lips worked into a flat line. 

The way you gasp must spook Buttercup, because she abruptly breaks into a gallop, forcing you to hunker down and hold on. You want desperately to look back, torn between relief and distress, but you stare ahead instead. 

The black horse he rides gains on you fast, legs pumping beneath its massive body. It’s not a horse you’ve seen before. Maybe borrowed in his haste to chase after you. You don’t let yourself digest that thought though, too concerned with remaining astride. 

Despite its size, it collapses the distance between you two quickly, nearly on you now. Instinct has you leaning into Buttercup, trying to get as low as possible and let the air glide around you. Her gallop quickens into a sprint. You’re just holding on now, facing straight ahead, no chance of being more than a passenger on this trip. 

John shouts at you from your rear to bring Buttercup to a stop. You squeeze your lips together instead of shouting back that you can’t. If you open your mouth, you think your stomach will come straight out. 

Your body jostles around on top of your horse, on the verge of slipping off with every passing second. When she takes a turn too quickly down a trail leading up into the mountains and you slide a bit to one side on the saddle, only your foot in the stirrup catching you, your heart stops. Fear is ice inverted; poured over you. It drenches you in another layer of sweat that dries rapidly in the air whipping around you. 

Hot and cold. The ground seems to come towards you every time Buttercup’s legs kick up. Always on the verge of falling and breaking every bone in your body. You suck your tongue to the roof of your mouth so it doesn’t get caught between your clacking teeth and bitten right off. 

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the cacophony of stomping hooves. 

A glance to your right finds him close enough to graze with your fingertips. Your heart jumps in your chest.

“Pull up!” he shouts again, but all you can do is stare uncomprehendingly. 

You don’t know if he can see the terror in your eyes. It must be splayed clean across your face. He has to see the way his words mean nothing to you. Your panic effaces any meaning; all you hear is noise and anger pouring from his mouth, and trampled dirt and labored breath. 

When his horse pulls up alongside yours, he gets close enough to lean over and snatch the reins out of your hands. He pulls firm, tugging Buttercup’s head back until she almost rears up and you scream, hands fisting in her mane. 

Your body lurches forward when she comes back down, slumped over the saddle horn. It digs hard into your stomach. There’ll be a bruise there come morning, but nothing like the bruises that’ll bloom between your thighs. Even now the ache radiates down your body. You look up at the sound of John’s breath panting out like a bull, and he glares down at you with undisguised fury, the angriest you’ve ever seen him. 

“What in the blazes were you thinkin’?” he booms. Even the horse he sits astride shakes its head at the sound. “There’s nothing out here but outlaws and predators!”

The hand fisted in Buttercup’s reins pulls her closer, and he guides both horses into a slow trot and then to a stop. You can feel the way Buttercup’s ribs expand and contract under your legs. 

“Stop it— don’t touch me!” you snap when he reaches for you, smacking his hand away.

“Darlin’, if you get off that damned horse—” John warns, but you’re already swinging your leg over the saddle as the words come out of his mouth. 

You almost trip over the stirrup when you slide off Buttercup’s back and take off on foot. You fist the skirt of your dress in both hands to lift it as you run, letting it swish around you with the force of your strides. A curse and grunt come from back behind you. The sound of John’s boots hitting the dirt is loud, and when he chases after you, his boots pound into the earth.  

It’s a desperate last move, but all you can think is that you’d rather be anywhere else but in his arms. You’d rather take your chances with the wolves and bears in the woods, or with the bandits and brigands on the trails leading to the next town. 

You barely make it past the next tree before he barrels into you and takes you both to the ground, the world spinning as you fall down. He angles his body to take the brunt of the impact, but you still cry out when your hip hits the ground hard. The way he pulls you into his chest just barely keeps your head from slamming into a rock. 

“Goddamn it, woman,” John spits. “Where d’ya think you’re even going? There ain’t nowhere to run out here!”

Your head spins. When you open your mouth, all you can taste is rust and salt, sweat dripping off your upper lip. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back and he doesn’t give you a chance to gather your bearings before hauling you to your feet, tugging both of your arms behind your back. 

“Let me go!” you scream, trying to wrestle out of his hold to no avail. 

You know he doesn’t understand, but you can’t help the way you try to fight your way out of his hold. There’s no explanation that’ll make sense to him other than the truth, which you clamp tight in your chest. There's no telling if he already knows, if maybe Graves finally tracked him down or if someone else brought their suspicions to his attention, but you won't go spilling the truth yourself. 

He’s a solid mass behind you, breath labored from hours spent tracking you. You wonder if he noticed mere moments after you took Buttercup and left or whether he came back to the sheriff’s office only to find the two of you gone. 

John holds your wrists in one big hand at the small of your back and gives you a mean shake. “I don’t know what’s got you so riled up, but you better fix this attitude of yours and explain yourself before we get home or so help me God, I’ll take my belt to your ass.”

The mention of him belting your backside makes your hands go clammy, but you must have abandoned your common sense a mile back because your mouth keeps running. “I’ll gut you like a pig if you touch a hair on my head!” 

“We’ll just see about that,” he grunts, and you can hear the raw edged smirk in his voice and the anger behind it. 

When he leads you stumbling towards the horses waiting in the middle of the trail, you realize that capture had always been an inevitability in your mind. Maybe it even comes as a relief to know that the jig is up. 

You just hadn’t realized that it would be someone else hauling you back by your hair.

[ineffable-suffering]

The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

[manmuncher777]

How You Deserve | JOHN PRICE

words - 5k

warnings - smut, unprotected, p in v, fingering, oral fem!recieving, slight degradation, cheating?

a/n: huge thankyou so much to @sky-is-the-limit for allowing me to use her idea, it's helped kickstart my writing again on a fresh account. I do plan on writing more, definitely. I am just a very slow paced writer. But I put a lot of effort into this and hope it lived up to what you imagined. This is the idea she had.

MDNI!!!

Apartment 138 b 

Your apartment. 139 b was John's. 

He told you to call him John when you first met, and you couldn’t think of another name since. You had lived there for just under 5 months now and seeing your neighbour every now and then was a blessing. 

God the man was attractive, you always loved an older man, and my god does he pull it off well. When you first met he offered to help you move the rest of your things, and who were you to decline such an offer, watching his muscles flex and he picked up boxes. He even told you to call if you had an issue - giving you his number for ‘emergencies’. The little graze of his hand against your made you wonder if you could use it for more than that. 

And of course you did call, one day when your sink wouldn’t stop dripping. you knew just the man to call, and when he came over you made sure to take great care of him.

You may have spent the afternoon cleaning your whole apartment before getting dressed up, but not to the point where it would have been noticeable. Just enough that you hoped you might catch his attention.

“Thank you so much once again John” you said as you moved about your kitchen, past the man under your sink. Your eyes not being able to resist travelling over that part of his exposed torso as he was under you sink. His shirt riding up with every movement of his arms, just enough to tease you. You bit your lip at the sight.

“sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me so much, it’s fine honestly. I'm happy to help, gets me out of the house” he joked, tinkering about with all sorts of tools, you leaned over the counter, watching as his forearms flexed with each twist of the wrench.

Fuck... those pet names he gave you always left you fangirling. He made you blush like a little school girl.

“wow, and here’s me thinking you had a wild night life”

he chuckles as you can’t help but smile at the sound, god even his laugh was sexy, and you wish you could see the smile on his face.

“Not me, the wildest I get is staying up past 10 on a weekday.”

“I'm shocked, I thought you would be a man of the night, getting up to all kinds of mischief, bringing women home and going down to the pub.” You fake shock, secretly you were just doing this to find out more about him. Find out if he had a girlfriend that was lucky enough to have him.

“Nope” he laughed once more “no wild women of the night for me”

‘awh dammit, that’s my chance blown then”

“well I do believe in second chances love." he says after a moments silence. He gets up from under the sink, standing with you counter top in between you both. His aftershave wafting towards you with his movements, drawing you in.

"lucky me then..." You say just above a whisper as you stare up at the man in front of you. God.

What you wouldn't do to jump over the counter and drag him to bed with you, wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and dragging your hands over his muscular back. You felt jealous of your sink pipes for a second, realising that they got to feel his hands and you didn't.

But sadly he bid you a good night, letting you know he was just a call away if you needed help with anything. You watched after him as he walked out of your door and into his own.

You planned on breaking lots of stuff around the house to get him back round.

You saw him all the time, you would sometimes go out and plan to arrive the same time that he did, you soon figured out he was some kind of military man, and watching him walk by you in his uniform was a sight to behold, you would 'accidentally' drop your keys in order to prolong the time you could see him. You would exchange pleasantries and smiles whenever you saw each other, but you always noticed his stare lingering on you, and you never minded. To be fair, you practically undressed the man with your eyes whenever he returned home in his uniform. The sound of his boots against the stairs up your complex would leave you skin tingling.

In the mornings when he was due to leave for work you would be outside if your house in skimpy nightwear, getting your mail and wishing him a good day at work.

He was convinced that he actually had a better day at work on those mornings that he saw you. God he wouldn't even let you out of the apartment looking like that, he would keep you wrapped up in his arms in bed, risking being late to work for a few more minutes. He had to practically force himself to keep walking past and not stand and stare. But you were so sweet, practically inviting him in.

You were also so pleasant to him, he remembers having to correct you every time you called him 'Mr Price' and act like it didnt turn him on. You always dressed so nicely whenever he was round, wearing tops with necklines that complimented your breasts, or tight fitting skirts. And the smell of your perfume whenever he some over is almost intoxicating, its as if you sprayed some right before he came through the door (you did).

He was tempted to break something each time he was round so he had another reason to come back, he liked having you fawn over him. Asking him about his job, making him tea, giving him cookies to take back with him. And the way you would look up at him and rub his arm as he told you to call him if there was any thing you needed. And as he looked down at you, his mind couldnt help but wander.

Holding your stare he wondered if you would keep the same eye contact with him whilst you were sucking his cock, or he imagined if those pretty eyes would screw shut if he was eating you pussy. He had to shake himself out of it, walking away with lusty eyes and pants that felt significantly tighter than before.

Now you did have a boyfriend. kind of. a weird relationship with a guy you met a few months ago, he was a friend of a friend. You didn’t mind him, he filled the void and while you felt bad that it wasn’t a true relationship, you knew he felt a similar way. You could see his eyes wander and he’s always been rather secretive. A few times you have suspected cheating, but honestly couldn’t bother yourself with the drama. You didnt love him, and he didnt love you. simple. He served a purpose, or he did. He's started to not do so well in serving that purpose recently.

So there you lay, wishing you had spent the evening calling John over to fix the shower, instead you had your boyfriend rather aggressively trying to rub your clit, and failing rather miserably.

He had never been great at sex, but as of recently you kept having to question why you would invite him round, he never got better.

"you like that? yeah? you like my huge cock. It's big right?" okay. overstatement.

He thrust in and out of you hard and fast, clearly focused on chasing his own pleasure, his average - not huge - cock was not doing much for you. "so big inside you huh?" he questioned again, his rubbing not slowing down, neither his thrusts. You let out a lacklustre moan, hoping the quiz about the size of his penis would stop. You tried to be in the moment, but it wasn't really working. He had you in missionary, he wasn't even looking at you and to be honest, you were almost bored. He wasn't here for you, he was here for himself.

It left you questioning why you even let him come over "a bit to the left" you tried to ask him, guiding his hand with your own, but he wasn't really interested. Hardly paying attention. a few seconds later his thumb moving back to where it was before. no where near you clit.

"oh fuck- gonna cum" he splutters out, pushing all his weight onto you

God why didnt you call John. Of course he was on your mind right now.

Suddenly you felt embarrassed, he could probably hear this absolute shit show. You had days where you could hear his tv through your shared wall, and you realised he could probably hear this.

That embarrassment was soon replaced with another feeling when you got a little idea in your head.

"oh FUCK" you let out a nearly pornographic moan that even had your boyfriend snapping his head to look at you. You were fully aware that your bedroom wall was the shared wall between you and John.

"that feel good, feel it deep inside you?" oh god you were encouraging him. You just hoped John could hear this, because otherwise you would be boosting your boyfriends ego for no reason.

"soo good, fuck yes. right there. oh my god" you kept on, moaning loader and louder, practically squealing and screaming. "Sooo big!" God you actually had to try not to laugh at yourself.

This clearly excited your boyfriend as his thrusts sped up even more, a few seconds later and he was cumming with a load noise. You of course pretended you had cum too, putting on your best performance yet.

"oh fuck, yes yes yes gonna cum, OH, oh fuck" you squealed. Having to slap your hand over you mouth to stop a laugh following. John couldnt have not heard that. In fact you think the whole apartment building heard it.

Your boyfriend practically crushing you under you weight now, feeling rather proud of himself. He then leaves nothing but a few minutes later, of course. Not bothering to check on you. God you really needed to break up with him.

After cleaning yourself up and getting into some comfy clothes you decided you needed some fresh air, to try and get the captain out of your mind. You swear the say he told that he was a captain you almost exploded, got to love an authority figure as well. He just kept getting better and better.

As you lean on the railing just outside your front door, you heard movement from you neighbour, and as if it was a sign from the universe to tell you that he would forever be stuck in your mind, John comes out. Rather hurriedly zipping up his coat and locking his door.

"in a rush?" you ask as you watch him, a small smile on your face as you watch him freeze at your voice. As he turns to you, you can see his pink tinted face, as you hope its because of your little act earlier.

"uh, yeah, just needed some things" he says, clearing his throat as he glances at you, not looking at you for more than a few seconds before looking away.

"hmm, have fun" you nod at him, and he rushes off. You almost giggle to yourself as you made him squirm. Your hoping that your little plan worked.

And you think it did, Johns stares at you in the hallways became more intense, and when you did get him round to fix the shower, its as if he didnt want to leave, always finding new ways to continue a conversation or different things he needed to fix. You could basically feel the tension when you two got close. You wanted him, badly.

Just to make him squirm even more, you wanted to make him snap. You needed him to react, to do something, so you tried you little boyfriend trick once more. Calling over you disappointing boyfriend, who clearly enjoyed himself more than you, and then faking it louder than before. Something truly turned you on about the fact he could hear. And minutes after it finished you boyfriend left again.

You were prancing about your apartment, rather pleased with yourself once more. I mean, maybe not pleased as you just had incredibly shit sex, but it was worth it you hoped. After a quick shower to wash the evening disappointment off of you, you chucked on some panties and an oversized shit, preparing to wrap yourself up and watch a movie of some kind. Your wet hair tickling your back as you reached to grab some fluffy socks. Then without warning your whole apartment goes dark, you body jumps slightly as you search for your drawers, finding the flashlight you keep. Great just what you needed after trying to make a bad night good.

You rush about you apartment lighting some candles in each room, but you didnt have many.

This is an emergency, you thought to yourself.

Seeing as you didnt have your phone on you, it made sense to go and knock on his door, it was the evening, but not late enough for him to be asleep. You rush to your own door, opening only to find the man you were just about to go and get. huh, maybe you summoned him or something.

"John, I was just about to come get you, is your power out as well, what did you need?" you ask, curious as to why this huge man was standing outside your door, basically blocking and of the night sky from being seen behind him.

"I'm here to finish what that stupid little boy you fuck around with cant" He says, and you can feel your insides flip at his deep voice.

"Mr price-" You start, shocked to see the burly man practically oozing with lust, his heavy breathing and unbreaking stare made you feel timid as your legs turn to jelly, taking a few steps back.

"John." he corrects, stepping forward into you dimly lit apartment "Every fucking time I see his car pull up, I have to stop myself from beating the living shit out of him. How could a man not spoil something as precious as you" He says, his huge hands now gripping at your waist, you go to speak but he cuts you off. "and don't even try and lie, I know your faking it. I know you haven't cum a single time you've been with him, but still you want to tease me, you know exactly what you've been doing to me you fucking minx"

You don't even know what to say, you've been caught red handed. You lean into his grasp on your waist, his hands feeling even better than you could have imagined.

"not so noisy now love are you?" he coos at you, he can see you resolve slowly failing as you become putty in his hands "how about this? I give us what we both want and treat you like you deserve." A small smirk resides on his face as he watches your eyes light up.

He was cocky, but you loved it.

"yes John please, I'm sorry." You practically whine at the man as he quickly shuts your door behind him, the loss of his hands feels like a sin, but soon he grabbing you by the hand and taking you to your bedroom, you chuckle internally at the fact he knows his way around you apartment so easily.

"oh no darling, I'm sorry. I should've seen what a desperate slut you were sooner." He's whispering in your ear at this point, telling you filthy things, getting you as desperate for him as he's been for you. Gently placing you down on the bed before positioning himself between you legs, kissing at your thighs "Poor thing, you've been begging for it for months now, how cruel am I for not giving it to you"

Honestly you don't know how to react. Your brain has gone to mush while this gorgeous man is muttering filth to you and he's about to eat you out, but his stare is full of innocence. Those gorgeous eyes not breaking eye contact with you, even as he kisses you over your panties. You try your best not to cry out at the sight, but that is just a promise of what is to come

"let me show you what you've been missing out on, please?" there's that fake innocence again, it may seem like he's asking you to be sure, but he already knows your answer. He just wants to hear you say it.

"Please John, I want it so bad, want you." you beg him. I t felt good to finally tell him, all of that tension finally being released. And all you saw was the cocky smirk on his face again before he was removing your panties.

"shit sweetheart, Your practically soaked and I haven't even touched you yet. Did he ever do this for you?" John asked, running a finger through you soaked folds, to be honest you didnt even know you could get this wet before the sex even started. You shook your head, of course he didn't, he never thought to be that generous.

"dickhead" you could hear price mutter to himself as he continued to tease your dripping hole with his fingers. "what a waste" Without warning he then plunges two fingers deep inside of your, letting out a low groan at how wet you are.

You couldnt help but break the shared eye contact with him as your hands gripped as you bedsheets and your eyes screwed shut. Finally you were getting what you had been deprived of for so long. His fingers starting pumping in and out of you slowly, building a consistent pace. This time, instead of forced the moans you were so used to the moan let out was completely involuntary and you hands fisted as your sheets. John cant help but let out a small chuckle at the noises you make when he finally gets his hand on you.

"shh, that's it sweetheart, just relax f'me" he rumbled as his other hand finds it way to stroking you thigh, trying to calm your tense state. Your eyes snapped open, trying to get a glimpse of John. Each thrust of his fingers sending you mind further and further into mush. Your hips chasing his ever move, bucking with every brush against your g-spot.

He looked heavenly, his face gently lighted by the candles in the room, his hair slightly out of place while his eyes focus themselves on you completely. His hands flexing with every movement he makes.

Never taking his eyes off you, he leans down, finally tasting you. His tongue licking gently stripes, collecting your wetness.

He moans at the taste, something oh so satisfying about finally getting his mouth on you. Like his dreams come true.

His thick fingers worked magic inside you as their movements never faltered. His tongue increasing in its assault of your clit, running over the bundle of nerves over and over leaving you twitching and writhing beneath him. You could already feel you orgasm approaching yet he had hardly gotten started yet. "fuck, so good" you whimpered out, and you saw the pleased look he had on his face. Your body twisted and writhed on your bed, not used to the intense pleasure you were feeling as this man carefully and skilfully worked on your pussy.

"I know, I know. Being so good for me." he whispered, and even that drew another moan out of you. It was almost overwhelming, you hadn't had someone care for your pleasure solely before, and it almost seemed as if John was getting off on it by the quite groans he was letting out himself. Waves of pleasure flowing over you, and you wouldn.t mind being drowned in this feeling as you slip further into the lust.

Your hands released their iron grip that they held on the sheets and found their way to his hair, tugging at the dark roots. This seemed only to encourage the man lapping at your cunt. He was devoted for sure. The feeling of your hands gripping his hair, letting him know that he was doing his job right.

He could sense you were already nearing your climax, he could feel you tightening around his fingers, practically sucking him back in every time he threatened to leave. His tongue sucking your clit, focusing its movements, and that mixed with an added finger and some verbal encouragement, your orgasm grew ever closer. Every breathy moan as whimper was a signal to john that he was doing a job well done, he watched your face eagerly, watching to see what had an affect on you, trying to see what you liked the most. He wanted it just as much as you did. A desperate plea for release clear within you both

"come on darling, give it to me. Good girl." he spoke lowly, watching as you tried to force you eyes open, yet failing as your orgasm took over. You stomach tightening as his fingers carefully rode you through. You could be certain you weren't faking any of those moans as you basically sung his name like a prayer. "John, fuck, fuck-oh my god". Your legs tightened around his hand as you felt like every nerve in your body was on fire. You had finally received the pleasure you had been wishing for and it left your eyes burning with tears, tears of pleasure of course.

"There you go sweetheart, you did so well f'me" He whispers as he kisses up your body, his hands tracing over your skin as if he were trying to memorise every inch of it. He almost seemed angry that your shirt served as another layer between you both as he ridded you of both his and yours, throwing them somewhere in your room. You were too far gone to notice. You chest still heaving up and down as you came down from you climax. "Thank you" was the only thing you could mutter to him and he kissed up your chest and neck, before finally kissing you on the lips. You both moaning at the sensation, at something that had been long awaited. You had found their way to the back of his neck as he kissed you hard, his lips almost punishing yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You allowed yourself to be claimed by him, having no desire for any kind of power, you were his for him to do with as he pleased.

"can you take a bit more for me sweetheart? Got to have my cock inside you” he groans lowly in your ear, the noise practically ungodly. You whine, you cant tell if its at the loss of the contact of his lips or his filthy mouth. Or maybe its the huge hand now making its way to your breasts, playing with your nipples ever so gently, making it harder for you to form words.

"oh don't tell me I've lost you already love? First time being fucked properly and your already gone." He coos at you, smirking to himself. He is rather proud of the effect he's having on you, it had gone far better than he expected. Although your previous boyfriend didnt really leave much he had to live up to.

"please John, fuck me. I need it so bad, need your cock." Your whole body was practically screaming out for more. Your mind only being able to focus on one thing as your eyes trace over the man in front of you. The buzz of your previous orgasm still on your skin leaving you craving another. You couldnt help but be selfish as this man was offering himself to you so generously.

"oh you need it darling? well in that case..." he trails off, pulling your legs open, wide enough for him to fit in between as he lines himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing you, dragging his red tip through your folds. He had enough composure to tease himself also by doing this, being almost painfully hard. You couldnt help but watch intently, almost being mesmerised by the lewd act.

He couldn't take it anymore. H e needed to be inside you, he craved it. All those times he had imagined you bent over your kitchen counter, or him dragging you back to his room to have his way with you finally coming true.

Slowly, he pressed himself inside of you, inch by inch. He wanted you to feel him, all of him. And he certainly was big. A joint moan released by the both as you as he sinks himself inside of you fully, and he stays unmoving for a moment, basking in the closeness you now both shared.

You were absolutely fucked. You couldnt keep it together. You were so full, finally so satisfied that you couldnt even think straight, all your mind was focusing on was how you stretched so well around him. It was taking everything for you not to start moving your hips or crying out for him, trying to keep your restraint as you felt practically euphoric. You felt like you had been lit on fire, your skin feeling alive with every breath he took, the slight movement inside of you.

Finally after what seemed like centuries John moves. His forehead dropping down to rest on yours as he tries to ease a slow pace, practically torturing himself.

"Holy fuck- so perfect. You feel so fucking perfect f'me sweetheart" he groans out from above you, his whole body encasing yours as his hips speed up pace.

Your hands find his back, clawing at the skin as you lay with you mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Your eyes fluttering shut as you try to focus on how good you are feeling right now. That is until a firm hand grasps you jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to make your eyes open.

"You keep your eyes on me, don't you dare look away. Want you to watch me as I ruin you." he whispers to you. He wouldn't be surprised if you didnt understand what he said, you were a whimpering mess. He had just asked one of the hardest things for you to do. You had to watch this man fuck the shit out of you, it was almost too much to handle.

His deep groans echoing in your room, partnered with your moans.

What you don't realise is seeing you in this way, so vulnerable is his favourite part. The sparkle in you glossed over eyes as you cant help but be trained on him, the smudged mascara framing them perfectly. You glistening with either your spit or his, either way it turns him on. You spread out so innocently before him, for him to be the one to make you feel so good, and not be able to fake it even if you tried.

his hips were punishing, every thrust now pulling a moan out of you, music to his ears he thought as he smirked down at you. how cute he thought, watching you struggle not to close your eyes an scrunch them shut at the pleasure

"Too much for you sweetheart?" he questioned mockingly, receiving only a cry in response. You clench around him, never wanting him to leave your walls. He definitely didnt want to leave them either.

His hands coming down to brace your hips, stilling you wriggling as he pounds into you, harder and faster, he wants you to be able to feel him afterwards. He doesn't want there to ever be someone that can make you feel as good as him. You clench again, and again and John ca tell your close.

"Gonna come for me again love? Come on, on my cock, there's a good girl" Jesus this man knew exactly what to say to have you screaming for him. One of his hands releasing the bruising grip it kept on you hips to rub at your puffy clit.

With your moans and the way you fit him so perfectly, He couldn't see himself lasting much longer either, his main mission is to have you cumming before him.

"come on darlin, need it. Come all over my cock" Whispering in your ear with that gorgeous voice of his as his thumb fingers rub tight circles on your clit and his huge cock is practically splitting you open has you tumbling over the edge.

"John, oh my fucking god." Every muscle in your body tensed as he made you cum once again. God it was so good, like a coil that had finally been released. At last you had finally been satisfied. Your legs wrapping around his back, trapping him in as his hips still hammered into you, leaving you shaking from sensitivity. Like a madman possessed he chased his own orgasm, watching where you both connected intently as you soaked him completely with your release.

"Fuck sweetheart, gonna ruin this perfect little pussy" He moans, his hips now faltering in their pace, stuttering as his orgasm comes close. Your overstimulated body now quivering as you do you best to clench round the man, wanting to bring him the same pleasure that he just gave you.

"please John, i want it so bad" you whisper to him, and that sends him over the edge, spilling himself inside of you, thrusting his cu deep inside of you, continuing until he couldn't anymore. His hips stilling as he finishes, before gently pulling out of you. His eyes unmoving as he watches himself seeping out of you used hole. He wanted this moment imprinted on his brain

You lay there on the bed, completely fucked out and unmoving as he goes to grab a washcloth. It saddens him slightly to clear away this mark he had left in you. But he does it either way, gently cleaning you both off.

He soon settles next to you, a content sigh leaving his mouth. "So, who was better me or your ex?" he asks, a stupid question with an obvious answer. Laughing as you slap him playfully on the arm

"Oh my ex for sure"

[lilgoblinbitch]

Sweetheart 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

from Anon: "I kinda need that rick grimes dumbification you teased at. I know you crushed it"

a/n: yes this was one of the drafts i mentioned on my poll a bit ago! I had a lot of fun writing this. enjoy!

summary: your best friend glenn encourages you to go on a run with rick because it’s about time the two of you started getting along. the supply run doesn’t exactly go as you expected…

warnings: 18+, PinV unprotected sex, slight dumbification, fingering, slight choking, angst, kinda mean/mocking Rick, edging, cussing, cum swallowing, very vague mentions of past drug usage. (lmk if i missed anything)

wc: 4.3k

MDNI

Rick Grimes and you had an unsteady ‘relationship.’ Ever since Glenn Rhee, your best friend, welcomed you into the group, you and Rick constantly butted heads. It was like you couldn't agree on any one thing to save both of your lives. And whenever the two of you were alone, Rick often acted as your chaperon, always on your tail nagging you about how you were going to “get yourself hurt.” It irked you to your core. You could handle yourself, and you proved that to him plenty of times, but it just never seemed like Rick was going to trust you under any circumstance.

Glenn and Maggie liked to snicker to themselves, teasing you from time to time that Rick probably had a little crush on you, but you never understood how. That man never even smiled at you; all he did was badger you and make you feel like a fool. What the hell did they know?

“No! I’m not going on a run with him alone, Glenn. You know I’d rip his head off once he starts acting like an authoritative asswipe. And that would be on you for making me go.” You argued with Glenn, who was already scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, honestly. You need to learn how to get along with him. Trust me, he’s not a bad guy. Remember I told you about how he led us out of Atlanta? We would have been part of the dead geeks back in the city if it weren’t for him.” Glenn was always the best motivational speaker, and sometimes you disliked how right he could be. 

“I know he’s not a bad guy. I know what he did. But that doesn’t change the fact that Rick has never really treated me like one of you guys. I feel like he’s always seen me as just some — some bitch who got lucky finding a group of strong survivors,” You turned to Glenn, who was rubbing his face like he had a counter argument ready to be made, but you spoke again before he could. “Besides, Rick has never once asked me to go on runs with him, this would be awkward.”

“Not unless you make it awkward. Look, there’s no use in the two of you resenting each other, so I think this might be helpful.”

“I don’t feel like I’m helpful, though... helpful enough, I mean,” you admitted, glancing back up at Glenn who was staring at you intently, a sympathetic glint in his eyes. “I feel like I don’t pull my own weight around here very much. I mean, at least outside the walls. Just wanna feel more useful, and Rick often made me feel the opposite.”

“Well, I know you feel that way because I know you well. But you know you do more than enough for this community, especially keeping inventory and helping Olivia manage rations, and you helped rebuild the walls. You’re strong, and you’re one of us. That’s why Rick is taking you on this next run,” He reassured and patted your back lightly. You blushed and nudged your best friend on the shoulder. He never failed to put a smile on your face.

“Come on, this is your chance for you to prove yourself to him. I believe in you.”

Of course you could never say no to Glenn, especially when he was so kind to you all the time. Seriously, the guy didn’t have a mean bone in his body. So, you gave Glenn a half-smile, swallowed your bitterness and stomped your way over to the gate where Rick was already waiting.

“You got the list?”

The car was dead silent, besides the rumbling sound of the tires on the road. Rick was driving, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead, and just for a few ticks he looked down at his pocket to pull out a crumbled slip of paper. With his gaze back on the road, he held the paper out for you to grab. When you went to grab it from his hand, you could have sworn you felt his fingers graze yours for a split second. Although that didn’t seem to affect Rick very much, as his eyes were still glued to the road and both hands gripping the steering wheel.

Sighing softly, you unfolded the slip of paper and read it under your breath. Your eyes scanned it — not much was on the list, considering a team already went on a supply run the week before, and since you were in charge of inventory you knew the supply for food was not low. Looked like all you’d need to find today were extra rounds of ammunition and a few flare guns.

You desperately wanted to speak, to break the uncomfortable silence that occupied the car, but nothing in your head seemed adequate. So you slumped in your seat and picked at the loose skin of your fingertips while waiting to arrive at your destination.

After a short while the car reached a halt, and Rick wasted no time in getting out. “We’re here, grab a bag from the back and let’s go.”

He shut the car door and opened the back door, reaching in to grab a backpack and sling it onto his shoulders. You did the same, after stuffing the list in your back pocket. The car was parked a few hundred feet from a worn-down gun shop on the side of the road. You honestly would have missed it if it weren’t for Rick and Daryl already scoping the place out last month; trees, overgrown grass, and shrubs all contributed to the clandestine nature of the shack.

The two of you took down a few walkers that popped out of the woods near the car before making your way into the rustic shop. You slipped your dagger back into its sleeve and pulled the list back out of your pocket. Rick was preoccupied with scoping the area, ensuring no walkers or other living beings were lurking in hidden areas of the room. The shop had a cabin vibe to it, and even the cobweb added to the scenery.

Your eyes never lingered too long on one area of the room — you needed to find flare guns while Rick gathered the other items. Each step you took around the shop sent the floorboards squeaking, earning nasty looks from the sheriff. Rolling your eyes, you stepped quieter across the room. Soon enough you found a small wooden crate collecting dust underneath a broken shelf. Inside it were random items like a piece of rope, a toolbox, and a few other paltry trinkets. You pursed your lips and raised a brow, grabbing the dusted, rusty old toolbox and holding it up in the light. You swiped the layer of dust that coated the lid and then snapped it open. Your lungs released a dissatisfied sigh when you noticed all that was left in there was a wrench and a rusty nail. Bummer.

“We need another wrench? ‘Cause I just found one!” You joked, scanning the room for Rick, until you realized he wasn’t in your view anymore. You huffed and took the wrench, throwing it into your bag and placing the useless toolbox back onto the shelf.

It didn’t take you long to find Rick, who was shoving his find of items into his bag in another room. “Rick,” you caught his attention abruptly, but only for a moment. He went back to packing stuff into his bag. “Only thing I found was a wrench, there was nothing–”

“I got everything we need,” Rick interrupted. He shuffled by you after zipping up the backpack and swinging it on his back.

This man really knew how to push your buttons; you were truthfully at your breaking point. Before he could leave the room you snagged his arm, turning him to face you. You were irritable, and he could see it painted all over your face with the way your eyes pierced into his. Rick sucked in his cheeks and held your stare, before turning his head to the wall and running a hand through his tousled hair.

You thought back to what Glenn told you — the pointers and pep talk he gave you before you left with Rick. This was the only time you would be able to talk with Rick with his undivided attention and no distractions around you.

“We need to get past this bullshit,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“What bullshit?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Rick.” His eyes met yours again. The self-assuredness you fought so hard to keep dwindled, like the wick of a candle crumbling under the dying fire.

“I– we, um…” you licked your lips and collected your composure, “You know we’ve never really been on the best of terms, ever since Glenn found me on the road to Virginia…”

Rick’s silence and fierce gaze made this all the more difficult for you. You were never great at confrontation in the first place, and this man just had to complicate it even more. “Ever since then, we haven’t really been able to get along.”

“We saw things differently. And you didn’t trust me,” he jeered.

“You didn’t trust me,” You retorted.

“Guess we’re even, then.”

You grinned, but not a happy grin — a grin that was meant to convince your mind that you were satisfied in this moment. It was something you usually did as a child; you thought that if you smiled really hard then maybe your brain would actually think you were happy. Sometimes it helped you forget about frowning. It didn’t work right now, though. You turned away from Rick, the grin faltering and a frown replacing it.

“I never meant for things between us to get this complicated and tense… I was in a really rough place when Glenn found me and I could only trust him.” You peered at him once more, “Rick, I’m sorry if–”

He shushed you, a hand reaching up to your cheek to comfort you. This was something foreign to you; the only times he touched you was if he was handing something to you and his hand ‘accidentally’ brushed against yours. Now, his hand was placed on your cheek, and his eyes softened after seeing your tender ones pleading at him.

“I’m sorry, too…”

You were close now, his body only inches from yours. One tiny step forward and your bodies would collide. But that wouldn’t happen — couldn’t happen. You would not let it...

“Rick,” you stepped backwards a foot, not anticipating to crash into the wall behind you. His focus was on you, only you, and it made you feel many different things. “I need to know — I need you to tell me we’re okay now. That we–” his body was inching closer to yours again, and you tensed up. “Tell me we’re on good terms now.”

“I shouldn’t have waited this long.”

You were flustered, cheeks beet red. Your back was flush against the wall, hands gripping the paneling for support. “Waited...for what?”

Rick’s taller frame finally pressed against yours. You shuddered under the pressure. “Waited...to touch you–” his eyes darted across your face, landing on your puffy pink lips, “Wanted to, for so long.”

Your lips parted, unsteady breaths leaking out. You swore you could feel your heart pounding on your chest, begging to tear it open. His lips were nearing yours, and there was nothing you could do to stop it — nothing you wanted to do to stop it, at least.

He leaned in close, breath a fervent cloud bouncing off your face. “I think you want it, too.”

A fire ignited inside you, one full of an almost unfamiliar sensation — lust. Something you’d suppressed for so long and never realized you still had in you. Rick Grimes seemed to be the only man to successfully light that spark in you.

It was time to disregard the small voice in your head, the one that was screaming and scolding you for letting lust conquer your conscience. Rick could see right through your tough shell; you were like putty in his grip. So desperate for him to touch you.

Rick tutted at you, thumb pad pressing your chin, directing your eyes to his magnetic blue ones. “Knew you were needy f’me. Ever since you first looked at me.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” His hand snuck down to your denim crotch, fingers briskly tracing the zipper.

“I need to know, Rick — why you always fucking nagged me. If you wanted me, why would you make me believe the exact opposite?” You interrogated, trying to divert the topic to distract the fog clouding your mind.

Rick’s finger traced designs across the v-line of your crotch, your breath hitching in your throat each time he dragged a digit down closer to your clothed heat.

“You never–” you swallowed hard, gathering your composure back, “You never have long enough conversations with me, just quick enough to avoid our usual tension. And, I don’t recall us ever going on a run alone together.”

Rick’s eyes pierced into yours, his fingers coming to a halt at the hem of your jeans. “The only time I ever see you is when you need to check in on our ammunition and inventory, or when you need me to watch Judith. Even then you don’t really talk to me much.” You slapped Rick’s hand away from your pants, exasperation washing over you. “Oh, and, I can’t forget to mention that you weren’t even the one who invited me on this fucking run. Glenn did!”

Rick took a step back from you, placing his hands on his hips. He bit his lip, averting his eyes to the ground. Your brows furrowed in displeasure. You were aware that Rick was most likely working up something to retort, however impatience got the best of you.

A groan from you filled the silent air. “Please, just explain it to me! Tell me something. Anything!”

The look in his eyes was intensely passionate. You were crumbling against the wall; just his eyes had that effect on you.

“You were like a lost puppy for Glenn, and then Daryl for a while. And it made me angry because–” He closed the gap between you once again, “You were too caught up in acting like a whore instead of being with me.”

Rick’s face was close to yours, his hot breath fading into your own. You were too shocked to react, too dumbfounded by his choice of words. Did he really deem you a whore? 

“I was protecting you all along, and you were too dumb to fucking realize that, huh?” His gruff voice boomed in your eardrums and sent shockwaves through your body. “I should have had you sooner, that was my mistake. But I have you here now, Y/N.”

A hand slithered across your neck, gently squeezing it. You bit your lip in anticipation, squeezing your legs together to create friction for your aching core — an arousal you didn’t quite recognize until Rick grabbed your throat and brought it to life.

You were aroused, and Rick acknowledged it. There was no need to keep hiding it. Hastily you grabbed Rick’s face and smashed your lips together, hungry for him. Being that close to him wasn’t enough — you needed him closer.

The kiss became heated pretty quickly, almost two years worth of sexual tension released from it and relieved moans from the both of you harmonizing within the small shop. Rick’s hand slithered down to your crotch, right where he had left off not too long ago. Only this time, he wasted no time in slipping his hand between the waistband of your pants and the soft fabric of your lace panties. You pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily and eyes half lidded.

“Such a pretty girl… always letting me take care of you, hm? You know I’m s’posed to look out for you, ‘cause you’re too hopeless without me, sweetheart,” he cooed, his hand slipping further down your pants and flicking your panties to the side to expose your dripping heat.

His fingers explored your slick folds, and you felt your back arch in response. Your hips bucked forward instinctively; you were in a trance, unable to comprehend your current emotions or actions. This was wrong, it shouldn’t be happening right now. This man hated you — at least, you thought he did; now here he was, playing with your cunt like all grudges were dropped.

Your hands gripped the back of Rick’s neck, fingers latching onto the soft curls at the base of it. Two of his fingers plunged into you without an issue; you were already soaking for him. You felt so vulnerable under this man’s touch, like he placed some sort of spell upon you, and you couldn’t find the strength in you to push him away. Maybe this was supposed to happen — maybe Rick knew what he was doing, and maybe he knew what you needed. At least, it felt like he knew what he was doing.

You couldn’t help but examine his facial features: his scruffy salt and pepper colored facial hair added beautiful texture to his chiseled jawline; his soft pink lips a shade darker than normal from your own lips eating at them; and oh — his eyes. You could never get tired of those eyes. They were hypnotic, a shade of sky blue that reeled you in the longer you stared into them. If this man wasn’t a sheriff, he would’ve done well as a fisherman – judging by the way he reeled you in so effortlessly. Although this man carried himself like he was a stone-cold sergeant, his graceful beauty was downright conspicuous; the fact that you never really considered how attractive Rick really was, honestly boggled you. 

The pace of Rick’s fingers quickened and your hips grinded into his hand. His palm pushed against your needy little bundle of nerves, heightening your pleasure. Each thrust of his fingers into your wet heat brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Such a dumb slut. So fucked just from my fingers inside you. S’like you never been fucked before, so tight,” Rick cooed, his tone dripping with vehemence. The sensations were too much — you couldn’t remember the last time someone did this to you, made you feel so good.

Without warning you came undone around Rick’s digits, that nostalgic feeling in your core jetting pleasure all throughout your veins. “Oh, fuck–” 

Rick pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to your lips. “Wanna taste yourself, sweetheart?” Except he didn’t wait for a response from you; carefully he slipped both fingers through the entrance of your slightly agape lips. Your tongue licked at his digits, cheeks sucking in as you lapped the juices up, tongue relishing in the bittersweetness of your flavors. Your mind was fuzzy. 

Rick slipped his fingers back out of your mouth. “Think I fucked you well enough with my fingers?” He rasped, starting to unbuckle his belt. You swallowed hard, licking your lips, legs still shaking like a chihuahua. “No words? Damn, can’t wait to see how you react when I stuff you with my cock.”

You accepted your fate; rightly so, officer friendly had you at his beck and call. One orgasm was not enough yet, according to the restless motions of your hips, and somehow Rick perceived this before you could. Within seconds his brown jacket, the one he adored wearing — and most importantly, slay his enemies in — was tossed across the wooden plank floorboard and the white t-shirt that hugged his toned frame forgivingly was peeled off. You could not refuse your eyes the opportunity to explore Rick’s body. His sculpted frame was an absolute eye vacation; he wasn’t body-builder buff but he was fit and you could tell he took good care of his health. The skilled celerity of his hands practically ripped off his tattered jeans, landing on the floor with a thump from the weight of his belt and holster. You ogled at his veins popping out, and how they trailed along his forearms and outlined the sculpting of his muscles. These were all things that made you wetter by the minute.   

Rick wasted no time in shoving your jeans and panties off, putting your dripping heat on full display. A wicked smirk plastered onto his face, and you scanned his eyes; they were dark and unrelenting. Your body was a pulsing, sweating, yearning machine and Constable Grimes was the only troubleshoot that seemed to exist in that moment. 

“You gonna be good while I fuck your cunt?” Hands roughly clutched both of your thighs, setting them at both sides of his hips. Fervently you nodded, feeling the tip of Rick’s leaking cock tease your entrance. Even more of a confirmation of your consent was the manner in which you were wrapped around his hips; you were fiending for the sensation of being filled up by Rick’s cock.

“Such a needy slut, I just gotta–” one intense thrust of his hips sent his cock driving sharply into your slippery hole; “fuck the whore outta you and–” thrust, “make you my sweet, sweet girl.” Strained squeaks and whimpers spilled from your panting mouth while Rick pounded into you. A few stray curls danced upon his forehead, sweat drenching his hair.

The man was a fiend for you too, his licentious grunts solid proof of it. “Mmph, fuck, Rick!” Your lewd cries a melody in his ears. Your tight bundle of nerves collided into his pubic bone rhythmically, adding to the concoction of whatever pleasure potion was being poured into your blood. Your strength was depleted, limbs desperately hugging around Rick and fingers clawing into his back. 

“So tight for me. Need my cock to stretch y’out, right?” Rick chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating through your body.

The thrusts of his hips never ceased, only for a swift moment when he placed you down on his jacket that was lying on the ground and picked right back up with his cock ramming into your cunt. The force shook your legs, and it almost felt like they were going to go numb. Rick was on his knees, holding your legs flush against his torso and shoulders while he found the perfect angle to greet your g-spot with the thumping of his tip against it. Your siren song moans were everything to Rick — however, he wasn’t going to risk having anything impeding this moment, and that meant drawing as little attention to the shop as humanly possible.

“Gotta be good for me, an’ stay fuckin’ quiet.” 

His hand clasped your mouth roughly while his hips continued to drive relentlessly into your dripping pussy. His body leaned close into yours, your legs pressed flat to your sides — all spread out for him to fully access your obedient hole. He was hitting all the right spots. His lips eventually replaced his hand on your own mouth, going back and forth between dragging out your bottom lip between his teeth and wrestling your tongue with his — he ended up winning that duel. 

Rick attached his lips to your neck, nibbling at the exposed skin with his teeth and evoking hushed mewls from you. He kissed and sucked your skin as he fucked you on top of his jacket. Skin on skin and the wet squelching of your pussy — the sounds were white noise to him.

Your fingers dug into his back and shoulders as he transitioned to a more graceful pace, letting your body shift along with his.

“Look at you, goin’ dumb from my cock. Feels good?” He mocked you, smugness washing over his entire face. 

You were unable to form coherent sentences, not with how Rick was rocking into you and incessantly ramming his tip into all the right spots. Felt better than any drug you ever did in college. All that clouded your mind was how close you were to reaching the point of no return.

“So close,” was what squeaked out of you, stimulation to both your clit and g-stop all too overwhelming. Your body was preparing to succumb to the pressure.

Rick looked down at your features; your face scrunched up in pleasure — mouth making perfect “o” shapes, and sweat gleaming on your skin. You were taking him so well, being so patient for him. 

“Tell me how good you feel, sweet girl.” 

“So good, Rick! Ungh– need to cum, please!”

He smirked, rubbing circles upon your swollen clit; “Cum f’me.” And that was all you needed to hear to let the jetstream of pleasure erupt through your body, your wet cunt gushing while Rick steadied his pace thrust by thrust. His orgasm was near, you could tell from the way he started twitching inside you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the warm euphoric feeling you were experiencing was clouding your senses.

“God, you must love being fucked, huh?” Rick tantalized, admiring the way your tits bounced and how your arms flailed around, reaching for something to grab onto but were too weak to do so. It was bringing him closer to his climax.

The empty feeling he left you after he pulled his cock out made you frown, unable to formally fuss because of the state you were in. He started stroking his shaft, thumbing the pink tip.

“Open your mouth, hun,” was the only warning he gave you as he sat you up and released a thick ribbon down your throat. You lazily licked up the treat he gifted you, then lay back down on his jacket. 

You simpered in that position while Rick cleaned the both of you up, kissing your cheek as he did so. Glenn was right, somewhat — Rick wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe he did have a crush on you after all. You just weren’t exactly expecting the events that had recently unfolded in a gun shop of all places.

[harmoonix]

Astrology Notes ☙

By Harmoonix ❣️

☙ The beauty people with Pluto in the 1st house😍😍 These people can be very pretty and can have a very Scorpio Energy even if they don't have Scorpio Placements at all. But if you have Scorpio Placements and Pluto in the 1st house omggg this is too 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

☙ Did i forgot to say that Taurus Moons signs can be very possessive of their partners 👀, they are not toxic but they can get very possessive and jealous, they can be overprotective too. They can be extremely lovely and protect you with their own life

☙ You know you are the IT definition when your chart ruler is the Sun or Venus, or if you are Leo and Libra/Taurus Risings. These people are so popular and liked by everyone around

☙ Do you can know how hot Capricorn Risings can be???🔥🔥👀👀👀 They are from another planet i swear most models are having this ascendant and they look 💥💥💥💥🤯🤯🤯 AMAZING. Capricorn Risigns you are BLESSED

☙ Mars square Ascendant is a very hot aspect, most people with with this aspect look very attractive they can have high succes in media, because they can get a lot of people attention, this will sound funny but they look gorgeous with sun glasses on 😍

☙ Jupiter - Mars aspects have a really big high drive, they can be very horny, can have a very horny personality, it depends what people are they attracted because they can manifest their partners and they love to explore their sexuality too

☙ Uranus - Sun aspects, you just know they are unique and strong, nothing can stop them, these people radiate electric energy, just because Uranus and Sun together can have a very big and warm energy 💞

☙ I have seen people talking so bad about the 8th house placements, and I want to confirm that they are not right at all. People with 8th house placements are very powerful people especially if you have luminaries (Sun/Moon in the 8th house) or the chart ruler in the 8th house. They are like a phoenix and they re-born themselves if they are hurt. Karma is coming back for you very fast if you hurt such people.

☙ Jupiter Retrograde in a chart can means that you need to focus on your self and your goals more and you can see the luck coming for you, especially on traveling, try to travel to explore to go in search of new things because there is a high chance you will find luck there

☙ People with Venus in Cancer Degrees: 4°, 16°,28°, can get attached very fast to their partners, they give such "mom energy" they might like to take care and protect their partners a lot, nurturing them, but these people wanna feel secure around their partners either they can be very anxious about their relationshis

☙ Cancer in the 5th/6th house can have a big big big love for pets, they can have a lot of pets around them and there is a big chance these natives grew around animals in their childhood, maybe they had a lot of pets at home 🙀

☙ Mars in the 2nd house can help you with getting money fast at your job and at manifesting money, Mars in the 2nd house can be very influential if you wanna have a big wallet 🤩

☙ Pisces in the 10th house is a sign that you can be very good at singing. singing can help you to develop a career in singing or voice acting. 🎸. Painting and arts can apply too and also if you have the Midheaven at Pisces Degrees (12°,24°)

☙ Aries Risings OMG these people are like born with fire in their eyes and hearts, i swear all you need to do is to look in their eyes. Their looks is very mesmerizing, the 1st house feels so good in the sign of Aries ♈🐏

☙Capricorn Suns are having a very warm side too, there are many people saying "Capricorns are cold", "Capricorns are mean".... These people are humans after all and still have feelings? And of course they a soft side like all zodiac signs do. They can be very sweet with you, if you start to know them better and better you see they are not cold. These people are very sweet in all the ways posibile 💎

☙ People with 2th house Stelliums are here to be rich and expensive they do not joke when they wanna get that cashhhhhhh, get that cash guyssss. Applying if you have the North Node in the 2nd House too focus on being financial secure and don't depend on anybody 🌈

☙ People with a 12th house Stelliums can be very spiritual and connected to the spiritual world. They can see spirits or shadows and they can get body sensations like goosebumps very randomly

☙ Mercury in Scorpio can be very hard and fast at cussing people, when someone does them wrong or dirty they can come very fast to cuss them 🤣

☙Can we all appreciate how Aquarius Moons can stay so calm even in bad situations? Their calm omg and positive mentality is helping them a lot trough their situations

☙Ascendant at Libra Degrees (7°,19°) gives natives a very natural charm, they can have pretty lips and big eyes 👀. They can also have a good fashion taste, they can be very organised and take things veryyy seriously.

☙Ascendant at Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°) gives natives very unique features, they can have bulging eyes/the eyes can have a very nice shape. The natives can be very tall and intelligent, good at working in online media. They can also be very good at making friends and having a social group around them. ✨

☙ Ascendant - Mercury aspects natives can be very easily for them to talk and to express themselves, they can be social butterflies. They are very smart too and very wise. These natives have a good knowledge and they can mentor other people and help them by communicating their feelings.

☙ People with Sun and Moon harsh aspects they are not having good either because they can face personality problems and they can find themselves struggling a lot. This aspect is the definition of Brain (Sun) vs - Heart (Moon) fight, who you gonna listen and choose to guide you first? Your heart or your brain? They can also have family problems (Sun - father) - (Moon - Mother). But these people are very strong ones because imagine to have both luminaries aspecting each other, is definitely not for the weak 💎💎💎

☙ Virgo Risings are having a highly feminine energy and aura. Doesn't matter the gender,if you have a Virgo Rising you have a high feminine energy. It's a very nurturing placements in harmony with nature and Virgo Risings can have an amazing hair like omggg 👀👀👀 how does y'all's hair look so good ???

🔥Mature Content🔥

☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙

☙ Mercury in 8th house might talk a lot about sexuality and taboo things, they try to communicate while using dirty talk and flirting too 👀😍 these people are having a very sexual of communicating and expressing themselves but they are also very powerful in talking. They can give good speech and make people to listen to them

☙ Venus in Leo/5th house might like/have a tendency to be naked a lot around their partners, not 100% naked but wearing clothes who can highlights their bodies and the same can apply to Venus in Sagittarius or in the 9th house. Let's just say that people with these placements might like to tease their partners a lot 🔥👀

☙ Jupiter in Capricorn/Taurus or Jupiter in the 2nd/10th house natives might get spouse/husbands with big...👀👀👀 You know what's coming after..🔥🔥🔥 your husband can have great body/bones can be muscular too

☙You just know that people with heavy Scorpio placements have a lot of kinks and BDSM, it just happens for them to like it rough

☙ Aquarius's placements (mostly in big 6: Sun,Moon,Rising,Venus,Mars, Mercury) are highly kinky too and very passionate, when it comes to 18+ in Astrology, Aquarius Placements are highly underrated, these people can make you feel like heaven, so they are 100% very hot people 🔥👀

☙Neptune in 8th/12th houses are very sexual OMG these people are MY people 😍. Because they can spend all day dreaming about their partners, they can also have a lot of dreams and fantasies about their partners these people are intense at a very different level. Very intense, very hot, very charming 😍

☙ NEPTUNE IN THE 7TH HOUSE OMG these people can create a very big soul bounding with their partners they crave for love from their partners and they love little things in relationships. But these people are blessed getting such attractive spouses 😭 because Neptune can mean attractiveness too and in the 7th house of relationships and partners omggggg

☙ HEAR ME Y'ALL: JUNO - NEPTUNE ASPECTS mostly harmonious aspects (Trine,Sextile, Conjunction) similar to what i said about Neptune in the 7th house these people create a soul bounding with their partners and they can attract such hot SPOUSES 🔥😍🔥😍🔥😍 their spouses can be very sensual too. I feel this is also a very karmic placement because is also spiritual you can be connected spiritual with your spouse if you have your Juno/Neptune in the 12th/9th houses 😍😍😍 y'all these aspects are sooo hottt i love them (Juno asteroid code 3)

☙ JUNO - MARS aspectsssss another intense placements it can show your spouse can be EXTREMELY SENSUAL AND PASSIONATE, a lot of kinks omg😍😍😍 they can make you feel like heaven. Spouse can be hella attractive, pretty charming flirting everything sensual...THEY HAVE ITTT ALL. YOUR spouse is having a very attractive personality. So far one of the best Juno Placements to have (Juno asteroid code: 3)

☙ I heard Gemini's Placements are very good in bed too 👀, they can be very focused on what are they doing, they might not have such as many kinks are Scorpios but they are more into positions they like to try a lot of things and to experience a lot, they might not have many kinks but they are highly ROMANTIC.

☙JUNO IN THE 1ST HOUSE 🔥🔥🔥🔥. Definitely one of the most sensual placements to also if you have Juno here.... YOU ARE VERY desirable, a lot of people can wish you for them to be their partners. I'm not joking people with this Placement are having many admirations. BUTTT THEIR SPOUSESSSS 🔥🔥🤯🔥🤯🔥🤯🔥🤯🔥🔥🤯🤯🔥🔥🤯🔥 OMG your spouse can be very needy of you very lovely, high attraction to eachother, good pleasure time too 👀🔥👀🤯👀🤯👀 y'all are luckyyyy your spouse can also be very popular and a lot of people can know him. I adore this placement 💋

I will make more and more notes about a lot of placements because i have many many ideas about it. Don't worry if you don't have any placement here i have more posts about it;

Here too part 1 and 2;

Here is part 2💋💋💋💋

Hope you gonna find something you like in these posts and i have a lot more to make and post 💋💋💋👀👀👀 just wait for it because i have so many ideas.

With love, Harmoonix ❣️

[kissitbttr]

I SEE YOU (FIRST TIME IS A CHARM)

a/n: a simple first date of frat!miguel and cheerleader!reader after the party

warnings; tiny angst but then turned to comfort<3

—

miguel sometimes think it would be good if he occasionally pinches himself in the arm. or glen could do it if he wanted to since he’s got quite a grip. enough to make sure he’s not living the dream.

for example, finally scoring a chance to take you out after months of pining on you? not getting rejected by his long time crush?! scratch pinching, somebody slap the dog shit out of him and tell him that this is real,

he had texted beck prior the date that he needed his right hand man to keep tabs on everything at the party. and being the good best friend that he is, beck congratulated him for finally having the balls to actually do it,

beck: so i guess that means we don’t have to hear about you moaning her name again during sleep?

miguel: shut the fuck up, kingsley. do as what you’re told.

beck: aye aye buddy

“so uh.. are you hungry? we could grab something to eat if you want to” he asked you while looking over to the passengers seat

“starving, actually” you replied with a giggle, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. “got any recommendations, o’hara?”

but for a guy who knows his ways around women, he sure is nervous when it comes to you. and fuck, he cursed himself for being like this. he wanted to look cool in front of you, not stupid. what is wrong with him?!

“well we can have something off the diner on 13th street. that’s twenty minutes from campus, though. sushi stop, i know one where they serve the best sashimi. and kebab food truck but i don’t think you-“

“a kebab?!” a gasp fell from your mouth, eyes widening at the sound of middle eastern delicacy. “yes. no doubt. i want it. let’s punch it!”

he swore he’s not the type who falls in love quickly. but the way your eyes twinkle in excitement when he mentioned about kebabs,

he might just have,

he smiled at you before putting his focus back on the road. “kebab food truck it is”

one thing that miguel had forgotten to mention, is that food trucks don’t have tables and chairs. so people either eat them while standing up or inside their cars,

he didn’t want to trouble you at all, because looking at you right now, in a very pretty dress and heels, he doubt. that you actually wanted to eat while standing up,

“i’m so sorry, muñeca. i forgot to say something about this” he scratched the back of his head. eyes looking through the window where the kebab truck is at,

with a shrug you shot him a reassuring smile. “i don’t mind standing up while eating if that’s what you worried about”

he shook his head. “i mind actually. can’t let you eat and get tired while standing. how about we’ll eat in my car and i’ll go order something for you, si? what do you prefer? i swear if it you say vegan, i will leave you”

you laughed at that comment, “no of course not. i’ll get the chicken one, medium sized. and a cold water”

he pulled out his cash from the back pocket, smiling at you. “be right back”

there was definitely something different about him. a good different. one of them was how miguel is not how the people at campus had painted him to be. could be too soon for that conclusion but throughout the car ride, you were extremely sure that miguel is not a jackass.

instead, he had asked about which songs you wanted him to play in his car. whether or not if you’re comfortable and constantly saying sorry if he overstepped. it all seemed so sweet to you,

your friends would probably give you a weird look praising such simple things. the bare minimum. but these days, those ‘bare minimums’ are hard to pluck from a decent person, correct? nothing’s wrong with praising them anyway.

he knocked on the window, pulling you out of the train thoughts, in which you then rolled it down. “here you go, muñeca. the man assumed that it was for me so he put a lot of chicken there, so-“

“it’s fine. i said i was starving anyway” you took it from his hand, the smell of the delicious meal was making your mouth water.

miguel had himself crouched down to your eye level, thumb pointing over his shoulder. “so. standing up? or my car?”

you thought for a while, then an idea came into your mind with a pretty smile. “got a better one”

miguel frowned in confusion at that, watching you opening the door before walking out of the vehicle. and that’s when you and him standing almost chest to chest, unintentionally.

the moment he looked at you, his mind immediately went blank. in that exact moment, he thought that if it was possible to put charges on someone for how they stare with their eyes, yours would be number one.

because it felt like he was getting hypnotized by your beautiful irises and that there’s no turning back for him. he would volunteer to drown himself in them if it means he gets to see those eyes forever,

“—way nicer”

he blinked. mentally slapping himself in the forehead because he had just realized he wasn’t listening to you at all, too busy day dreaming about your gaze.

“i’m sorry, w-what were you saying?”

an amused smile made it towards your lips, “i said, we could sit by the pavement here. it’s way nicer. we could act like one of those drunk people after night out.”

“but we’re not drunk, muñeca”

“i said act, miguel” you reply in a duh tone, closing the door behind before guiding him to one of the empty ones where it’s not taken, “see? this one’s good spot”

one thing he noticed, you were wearing a pretty dress. “wait!” miguel then rushed towards the back of his car to grab a jacket before going back to you and laying it down on the asphalt. “there. now you can sit”

that one made your heart flutter, eyes moved up to him. “miguel you can’t just do that. your jacket will get dirty”

“I don’t mind. they made washing machine for a reason. i wasn’t going to let your dress get dirty anyway. the color is too pretty” he smiled, finally taking a seat on the rough surface with you following his actions after,

it was quite a cold night, and you regret not bringing a jacket along with you. what even was this weather? sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s rainy and sometimes you couldn’t even fucking predict it,

you tried not to let the chills get to you, because it seemed like miguel wasn’t really bothered by it. this man had his whole arms out in a muscle tank and he sat still like it was nothing,

“this is the best kebab i have ever tasted” you moaned with your eyes close on you had the first bite, chewing on the sweet delish,

miguel tried not to let his mind wander when he saw you doing that. “you like it?”

“like?! i love it! miguel this is amazing!” eyes turning into hearts when you gaze the food upon your hands, “how did you find this perfect place?”

“me and the guys often tried to find new places to eat other than burgers and hot dogs after parties and football practice” he settled his legs down, crossing them. “saw this truck while passing by and decided to give it a go”

you hummed. “do you do that a lot?”

“do what a lot?”

“partying” you took another bite, looking over at him as he raised his brows at the question,

“w-well” he chuckled nervously, thinking of a better way to answer. “if i’m being honest, i don’t enjoy it… as much as i did before”

“really?”

“yeah. it was fun at first. partying, getting shit faced… feels lame now. also, probably because now i think of alcohol are just empty calories”

“is that why you wanted to take me out? so you didn’t have a reason to stay there?”

his eyes turned wide, shaking his head in panic mode. “what? no! no of course not! i wanted to! i mean—it just felt like it was the perfect timing! and i— I—so—didn’t i tell you i have a crush on you?!”

with that, you laughed. placing a hand over his knee. “just joking, miguel”

oh fuck you’re touching him.

‘keep it cool, miguel’ he thought,

“oh-oh right, right. sorry” he replied, clearing his throat. still feeling nervous. “you know, i rarely see you at our weekly parties. only gloria and some of your friends.” he pointed out. wiping some of the sauce from the corner of his lips,

you answered. “not really my scene”

“you don’t like parties?”

“not really. i prefer when it’s just a few people that i know. not a whole campus. i like it better when it’s intimate”

“why is that?” he couldn’t help but ask,

“so i can hear people better when they talk. i love having a conversation”. it’s simple really. and it’s true.

you haven’t gone out to wild parties or clubs in a while, and it was safe to say that your life is truly at peace now. not saying that you would turn down any offer to go to one, but you just don’t do it as often,

waste of money and energy. simple things like sleeping before eleven, waking up early, getting your work done and having walks or working out regularly have been your main priorities now,

“ah, i see” he nodded at that, a smile appeared on his face. “intimate party yeah? i keep that in mind”

you raised one of your brows. “you don’t have to just because i said so, miguel”

he shrugged, taking another bite of his food “if that’s what i have to do just so i could see you around more often”

his response completely took you by surprise. and you had no clue what to say to that. fluttered? sure, that’s why you tried to suppress the smile on your face by looking away. you were quite thankful that it was dark out. that way, he wouldn’t be able to see the blush prominent on your cheeks.

the two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a while. devouring the perfect late night meal while watching the cars go by, accompanied by mindless chatters from left to right,

it did come to a surprise that you and miguel have a lot more in common than you think. something that you didn’t see coming. hell, you didn’t even think that you would actually converse with the head of a fraternity and captain of a football team.

a person whom you always try to avoid ever since freshmen year.

“another thing—why haven’t i seen you in lots of my games?”

“miguel, i come to your games. i’m the cheerleader for crying out loud”

“what i meant was why have you never stick around? you do your part and then poof! you’re gone”

raising an eyebrow, you eye him. “are you stalking me now?” he laughs at the accusation, but it’s not entirely false. “i have no reason to stay, why would i stick around?”

“not even for me?” he fakes a dramatic gasp, hand over his chest as if he’s actually hurt. “that pains me, muñeca”

“you’re getting way ahead of yourself, o’hara” you reply with an eye roll but smile anyway,

miguel then looks at the road, shaking his head. “unbelievable. and here i thought about handing you my jersey for you to wear next at our championship game”

and man, did your heart somehow stop for a second there.

because miguel o’hara do not give away his jersey numbers. not the real one nor the merch ones.

“you’re joking?”

“why would i be?” miguel turned his head at you, finding it is much better to look at you rather than the busy road ahead of him,

shrugging, you looked down at your open kebab. “people talk about how your jerseys are off limits. you don’t give away those numbers for anyone”

“well” he breathed out, chewing his lower lip while fiddling with his fingers. “you’re not just anyone to me”

a breath hitched on your throat when his ruby eyes met with your pretty ones once more. and he made a mental note on how your smile deflated in seconds after he said that,

and fuck fuck fuck, he didn’t mean to make you feel weird or uncomfortable. it was the last thing he wanted to do. because he did feel like he was confessing too much to you that night.

but what could he have done?! he likes you and you make him nervous. put the two and two together, and miguel would sputter bunch of shit from his mouth without actually thinking,

“shit” he shook his head, looking away from embarrassment. “i didn’t—I didn’t mean to say that— i mean, i did but—sorry if it made you feel weird. that was too straight forward”

you couldn’t lie, it was rather entertaining to see the captain of a football team and the so called ‘player of campus’ stumble upon his words like that. usually, you would simply roll your eyes and brushed every single guy who had said that to you. because you knew all they wanted to do was to get into your pants,

however miguel looked genuine. and by how fast his cheeks were warming to the color of crimson red or how he scratched the tip of his ears was pretty explanatory,

he wasn’t trying to get into your pants,

instead of giving him a dirty look, you just smiled shyly at him who looked down on his lap. probably re-thinking about his life choices.

“that’s cute” you managed to mumble, scooting a bit closer to his body. putting the half of kebab down beside you. “you actually like me, huh?”

he scoffed at the silly thought, as if the answer to that question had already been written well enough. “i really like you” he confessed, craning his head towards you and he almost passed out on how close you were to him. “makes me go crazy every time i see you, muñeca—i counted the times that you looked at me for just one split second and i died on days that you didn’t”

the way he spoke so carefully and lovingly with you was truly something you had longed from someone. took you by surprise just how much it meant to him for something so simple like wanting you to look at him for once,

one that you didn’t expect miguel o’hara would have said,

“yeah?” and this time, your voice wavered a little. almost like he made his mission accomplished by making you nervous too. “have you been gawking at me then?”

“god you made it sound like i’m a creep” he shook his head out of embarrassment making you laugh. “not gawk—just simply admiring you from afar—during class and your cheerleading practice. but it’s not a weird ass admiring or something like that. hope that’s okay”

it was. indeed it was.

because before this happened, you always assumed that miguel was the typical jock that romcoms have always shown. heartless, player, annoying, screw ups, and the list goes on.

but fuck was he different.

“more than okay” you responded rather quietly, letting your shoulder touched with his and it made miguel’s eyebrows quirk upwards,

and the moment miguel let his eyes looked into yours for more than twenty seconds, he knew for the second time that night—he was in. hooked line and sinker.

you pulled him in deeper than anyone had ever did without you even realizing. he hadn’t even shared a three hour conversation with you. this is the longest he had spoken with the girl he had a crush on,

miguel gulped by the sight of your pretty lips and doe eyes looking up at him. the innocence twinkled within your gaze and he had to refrain himself from kissing you out in the street,

it was one of the hardest thing he had to do that night,

“i just wanted you to give me a chance” he admitted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at you. “to look at me as me—not as someone who people had spread rumors about on campus—because i’m not that— i don’t sleep around, i promise I don’t”

it was a weird feeling on how your heart broke a little by how defeated he sounded at the moment. his eyes were soften, voice turned small. he was begging silently for you to look past the ‘playboy miguel’ talk from the people that barely even knows him,

he didn’t care if others don’t believe him but he cared if you did.

that’s the only approval he needed,

“i want you to see me” he shyly continued when you chose not to say anything, only looking at him with your widening eyes. “that’s all”

trust has always been something you struggle with from time to time. because it’s easier said than done.

relationships are indeed not your strongest virtue. you shared some in the past but not all of it were pretty except for one. and you haven’t even heard about that person in a long time but you did wish he was okay.

it is unbelievably difficult to put your heart upon someone else’s hands and asking them to take care of it knowing how easy it would be for them to break it along the way,

which was the reason why you avoided miguel in the first place,

to say you hate him with all of your guts and soul would probably be too much. you wouldn’t go that far. you hardly know the man.

but you were persuaded by the gossips and girl talk scattered throughout campus. how he used girls for sex, only to dump them the next day. despite gloria telling you the opposite, you refused to believe her. you were solemnly only trying to protect yourself.

yet only now the guilt was eating you alive. why didn’t you even try to find out for yourself instead of listening to a gang of plastics who love to start off disgusting rumors about others?

looking at him now just made your heart clenched and for your head tilt to the side, just so you can look at him a bit better. you wanted to look at his eyes. you wanted him to not avoid your gaze because you understood now,

more clearer than ever.

“i do. i see you, miguel” you placed a hand on top of his, gently rubbing the skin until his ruby eyes turned to you at the sudden affection,

miguel’s heart almost did a somersault at your smile. even more to the words you had chosen to say next,

“i see you, baby”

—

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! it would make my day:)

[gay-jesus-probably]

I like the general fandom trend to just take the plot of Hyrule Warriors as a loose guideline at best and just use the whole concept as a good excuse to get blorbos to interact across timelines, BUT I'm very disappointed that everyone is missing the comedic potential of a very specific squad of characters:

Young Link (aka Mask), who walks out of the nightmare of Majora's Mask and immediately gets portal kidnapped into a temporal war, takes one look at the whole mess and decides that you could not fucking pay him to admit to being the resident expert on Time Shenanigans. He introduces himself with the title of Hero of Termina, and definitely doesn't have any other ones, that would be crazy. Hero of Time? Never heard of him.

Tetra, who is a kickass pirate captain with zero patience for people trying to shove her into the Designated Princess role, and realizes immediately that Oh Fuck, this Hyrule has a lot of Ideas about how the Hero and the Princess are supposed to properly play their parts, the second they realize she's technically a Zelda they're gonna shove her in a goddamn dress and damsel her again, that's not happening. So she's definitely just a really cool pirate captain, nothing else going on here at all, definitely not the heir of the Hylian royal family in her time, that'd be crazy.

Ravio, who is literally just a palette swapped Link, meaning that the second his hood comes off, things are gonna get Awkward. There's no way in hell he's dealing with all that Hero baggage, that's Link work, so that giant bunny hood/mask is practically superglued to his head, and he's not taking it off for love or money.

Spirit Tracks Zelda, who is just in the Phantom Armour the whole time, and passing herself off as just a friendly ghost posessing a suit of armour to help the Hero of Spirits. Of course she isn't Princess Zelda, that's ridiculous, if she were a Zelda then people would start getting really weird about her technically being dead, and boy does that ever sound like a whole Thing she doesn't want to deal with, so she can't possibly be Zelda, she's just a nice ghost knight. Also, her teenage grandma is here, and that's kinda weird, so it's easier to just not admit to being royalty and avoid that awkward conversation.

Finally there's Sheik, who is not the Princess Zelda of the era straight up abandoning her war torn country for months at a time so she can risk her life in extreme cosplay for no clear reason, but is instead the actual Sheik from Ocarina of Time, who just beat Ganondorf like a month ago and is still trying to process what the fuck to do now. Also, he's been pretending to be a boy since he was ten, and is realizing there's a pretty good chance that he isn't pretending anymore, so that's a whole other can of worms. But for the last seven years of his life, being Princess Zelda meant certain death, so he's not really inclined to introduce himself like when in a new and stressful situation (not to mention he might actually just not be a girl named Zelda anymore), so he automatically introduces himself as just Sheik the spooky ninja man, and fuck he's in too deep to back out now, looks like he's committing to the bit. If you think you sense the Triforce of Wisdom on him, no you don't.

Cue shenanigans as the five of them attempt to hide that they're all actually kind of A Big Deal. The group motto is "Nobody says shit", which is usually delivered as a frantic hiss whenever someone slips up. Just the reunion between Sheik and Mask alone would be absolutely buckwild given how they parted, and how they're both frantically pretending to Not be involved with each other. For added hilarity and/or drama, Sheik gives his semi-bullshit cover story of having just been a friend of the Hero of Time, then runs into said Hero of Time and they both have to desperately pretend not to know each other, because if anyone picks up on the mountain of baggage between them then Mask is busted, and he won't hesitate to drag Sheik down with him out of sheer spite. Not to mention the weird balance of Sheik being used to this Link being a teenager that's actually a small child, and now has to adjust to Link who is a small child that's actually a teenager.

Also, i really feel like we're all missing out on the comedy potential of Ganondorf recognizing Young Link on sight and the two of them immediately launching into a grudge match with some extremely personal and specific insults on both sides. Meanwhile literally everybody else is just standing there watching, trying to process the fact that out of every single person that's been pulled out of time, Ganondorf only has personal beef with a literal nine year old.

I just feel like we're all really sleeping on the potential for Shenanigans here. The whole thing is an absurd mess, why not have some fun with it?

[mournings-stars]

doubt comes in

happy valentines day, here's my apology in advance for the angst. this is heavily based on the story of orpheus and eurydice specifically in the musical hadestown (my fav) with inspo from the lyrics so a lot of this is written with the intention to rhyme and be in a hadestown-esque song.. I probably wont write like this often, but i hope y'all like it there's one mention of pronouns (she/her) with lilith since i basically swapped the reader for orpheus and luci for eurydice but other than that i don't think there's much to indicate this is a fem!reader but this is an angel!reader if anyone would like a precursor with fluff, i'll compensate yall for the dramatic greek angst

part 2 (prelude) part 3 (prelude pt. 2) part 4 (prelude pt. 3) part 5/finale (semi-alt ending)

It was a long way down; winding, golden steps in a narrow hall that you didn’t know the depth of until you reached the bottom. Your legs ached with each step, and your wings fought not to fly the rest of the way. You could see it in the distance when you reached the ground, the red heat of the pride ring, and the home you were headed to. 

It hadn’t been long since Lucifer fell, maybe a few months since he and his love were banished to the darkness he created with the worst of humankind, but you were given a blessing. 

Sera, the oldest of the angels, allowed you to go down to Hell to retrieve him. There was a catch, however, one that made you wary as you now neared his home. 

You could only retrieve Lucifer. He had to leave his love, and you had to trust that he would follow you. You had to lead the way back up the golden staircase she created for you, all the way to the very top where the golden gates you knew so well waited for you. Lucifer had to walk behind you without a sound; he couldn’t assure you that he was there. You just had to trust one another. To follow, and not to check. 

You couldn’t turn around. 

Finally, you reached his home, knocking on the door and waiting patiently before it was opened. “It’s you…” You knew his voice well, the sound of it making your heart swell as you wrapped your arms around him. 

He was quick to return the embrace, the ache in your legs vanishing for a moment in his arms. “It’s me.” He sighed, hugging you tighter and shutting his eyes with his head on your chest. He could hear the drumming of your heart, and he knew if he held you long enough he’d be back in Heaven when he opened his eyes.

But he had to let go.

“How are you here?” He asked a question and it was like a melody, clear as day and symphonic as the winds that flowed beside you as you descended that steep staircase down to Hell. He stepped back, hands lingering until you stepped away. 

“Sera allowed me to come down,” you said. “She said I could bring you back — that you could leave this place…” You looked around, shifting uncomfortably in the unnatural heat before you turned back to him with a gentle smile. “Come home with me.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a trick. She’s never liked me—“

“No!” You grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at you. “It’s a trial — or a second chance at one.”

It had taken you days to get down. You hadn’t seen Lucifer in months. A few days without looking back at him would be nothing if that meant an eternity back home.

He squeezed your hands, looking down at them and suddenly feeling that it might just be possible. “How?”

“It took a while,” you said quietly. “She didn’t want to listen, but I knew you had the best intentions. I convinced her, and she’s letting you come home.”

“She’s letting me try.” He looked down, dropping your hands and frowning at the ground. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to follow me—“

“I can do that,” he said quickly. 

“And you can’t touch me, or speak to me. You just have to trust that I’ll get us there and that I won’t look back—“

He cut you off with a dry laugh. “Just?” He laughed harder. “We both know how this will go.”

“I trust you to follow me. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” His hands went to your face, holding gently. You moved out of his grip, feeling the coolness of the band on his left hand. “We were always close; I trust you, I just… don’t trust her—“

“You should go, Lu,” a voice came from behind him, and the woman you recognized from Eden stood there. Her hair, long and blonde, flowed behind her in non-existent winds. Her smile made you understand why he fell — why he would for her. “Go home with her.”

It was decided then. Just one encouraging push from his love and he was prepared to leave. He looked back at her, giving a smile that made you look away as you turned. 

As they said their goodbyes, you waited quietly, kicking at the ground absentmindedly until Lucifer put a hand on your shoulder. “Ready?” You nodded. “Alright.”

“We can walk together until we reach the stairs… Then, from there, we’re on our own.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he assured. “I’ll make sure you get back home.”

You frowned at his wording, taking his hand. “We’ll both go home.”

He nodded, correcting himself and squeezing your hand, “I’ll make sure we both get home.”

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

The walk was quiet before it had to be, doubt already coming in and making its way between you. What would happen when you reached the stairs? Would he follow behind you? Who were you to think he would, when his love had to stay in a place like this? 

“How bad was it?” Lucifer asked you. “Are you sure you want to go now?” You nodded. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I can rest when we’re home.” You gave him a smile that made him do the same. “You want to go back, don’t you?”

He had his doubts. He doubted that he could. He doubted he could make it all that way. He hadn’t seen you in months, and all he wanted was to talk to you — all he could do was touch you — but there was silence now. Didn’t that mean it’d be easy not to speak? Not to touch you… After all this time. After he found someone to love—

“Sera said if we make it, she’ll listen to you,” you tried, hoping he’d respond. He hadn’t even realized he didn’t answer you. “Maybe we can bring Lilith up soon.”

“I’d like that.”

The smile you gave him made him reach out his hand, the look on your face forced and sorrowful as you walked ahead of him. He wanted to take your hand for comfort — to both of you — but how was he supposed to go days without it if he couldn’t fight a simple urge now?

“We’re here…” You stopped some time later, silence blanketing the two of you a long time ago. 

But now it was for a different reason. 

Great golden steps stood before you, spiraling high up into thick clouds that shielded the true height of the stairs. 

But even from here they looked endless. 

“We can’t fly, can we?” Lucifer asked, half joking. 

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” You laughed, but it died out quickly. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can turn back now…” You swallowed your pride. “Go home to her… It’ll be days of walking, and going back up is much harder than coming down.”

He took a moment to understand what you were telling him, but surely told you, “If you were down here, I’d come to find you, too.” That brought a smile to your face. There was another pause before he asked, “would you follow me?”

You nodded. “Anywhere.” Even here. 

He smiled, taking your hand like he wanted to before. “Then show the way.”

You squeezed his hand before turning to the stairs and letting go, savoring that last touch until you could do it again; back home. You took a deep breath before taking the first step. 

Immediately, a marble wall surrounded the staircase, and you could only imagine that the steps were shielded, a wall blocking off the first stair as you started to go back up. 

You couldn’t hear a thing, not even your own footsteps as you climbed step after step. 

Lucifer, on the other hand, could hear your footsteps echoing; one after the other, each of your steps right after the other, and sounding like the dull pounding of a drum. He couldn’t tell if it was comforting or foreboding, but he listened anyway. This was how he’d make it through, he decided. To the steady sounds of drumming. 

But you were struggling. Coming down and back up so soon had made you tired already, but doubt weighing you down didn't help any. You let out a breath before beginning to hum as a way to ground yourself to these hellish stairs. 

It was a song both of you knew well; there were no words or swells to make you know what came next, just an endless melody that the winds would sing as they carried the seasons through the Earth. Long before Lucifer went to see the world, this was how you knew it. Through the songs nature sang. 

But now he knew the world much better than you did. He didn’t need this song anymore. You doubted he even remembered it,

but no, he was humming along, hoping you could hear that he remembered your song. He remembered how beautiful it was, and how when you sang it, the entirety of Heaven could feel your warmth — your love. It was why you were given the task to change the seasons, your song persuading nature into the most beautiful summers and captivating winters. But what else could he expect from an angel of Virtue? Could he expect that the love that he felt all throughout Heaven would ever be for him? How could he expect anything from you? 

Pride does not deserve Humility. 

And doubt comes in; he thought about turning back, letting you go alone, but even when he stopped for just a moment you kept walking. You trusted him to follow you, and as you hummed the song of nature, he felt that same love that he used to. The same warmth that was now pushing him up the endless stairs after you. The same winds that made him want to reach out and touch you, just to remind you that he was there. Just to see you look back at him. 

But he knew what you were doing, using your gift of song to bring nature into this empty place so it could push you to keep going. You hoped the winds would push you up, but they weren’t strong enough. 

You weren’t strong enough for this. 

The song stopped after a while, but you continued to climb, up, and up, and further up to no avail. If it hadn’t been that there was only one path, you would’ve questioned whether or not you were going the right way. 

It was harder going back. 

But there was hope; a faint, golden light that led you back home. A faint, golden light that told you you were so close. A faint, golden light that made you want to turn, smile at him, and say, “we’re almost home,” but you stopped yourself and kept going. 

You were much further than almost, but you were getting there. And this light pulled you to keep. Going. 

You didn’t care for the exhaustion, or the pain, you didn’t think about the hunger, or the thirst. You kept in mind that you would sleep, rest, eat, and drink when you made it home with him. 

When he made it home with you. He would worry about how tired you must’ve been. He would worry how much pain you were in — and he would worry about his own once he made it home with you. But he saw how you faltered, hand on the wall to keep yourself going, and he knew he couldn’t make it much longer like this. 

But you trusted him, he had to try. 

And doubt comes in. 

He doubted how much longer he could take this. He doubted how much longer he could watch you fade into exhaustion and pain without doing anything about it. 

He doubted that Sera didn’t expect this to happen.   

He doubted, and doubted, until you were finally there. Until you were almost sure he hadn’t followed you. Until your legs gave out on the final step and you felt him rush to keep you from falling. You felt his hands keeping you up and his wings bringing you onto the pale clouds of your home. 

And you turned back. 

But he was happy that you did. He gave you that same smile he gave her and his hands held your face gently. You reached up to grip his wrists as your eyes pooled. Regret; regret for doubting, regret for tiring, for failing. For turning back. “Why would you?” You asked and it was like a broken melody. Clear as summer rain with no symphony to push away the doubt that just kept coming in.

And he spoke to you. He broke every rule. 

“I couldn’t let you fall,” he said, and you knew how he meant it. You knew he never trusted Sera. She knew he’d fail. So did he. But not you. You were the fool that made him put his trust in you.

And now you knew he had to go. And he knew he could never return. 

He tilted your head down, wings fluttering and lifting him off the clouds. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head and said, “Visit again if you can.”

[spacesquidlings]

Hold Me, Carry Me Slowly; My Sunlight

Description: With the warmth of the afterglow fading, Tav manages to coax Astarion into a bath, to show him all the ways she loves him and to hold him close until the water grows cold.

Warnings: Suggestive content, implied sex, mentions of blood, mentions of other bodily fluids

Notes: Hello!!! This is my very first attempt at writing Astarion. Saw him once, fell in love, went insane, now i'm writing fic about him and I cannot stop. I want to just squish his cheeks and tell him how lovely he is. This is set post-everything that happens in game, and he's unascended

********************

Heavy curtains drawn across the windows stifled any hope of light sneaking in between the threads. It did not even bleed through the leaden fabric, staining the room in a strange glow the way wispy, gossamer curtains often did. But she did not need the curtains drawn to know that night had descended. The hazy burn of dusk across the sky had long since faded, a chill hanging in the air that bit at her bare skin that could only belong to the fathomless night.

Pulling blankets tighter around herself did little to stave off the sting of the air, siphoning away the last of the heat from her skin. And nestling closer to the body beside her was not the improvement she’d been looking for, the press of her skin against his bringing discomfort from everything that had spilled onto her skin into stark awareness.

There was blood; her blood, dried and caked on the inside of her thighs and her throat from where she’d let his fangs sink into her flesh. There was sweat of course, still drying on her skin, making her feel itchy, like a second, ill-fitting skin had been plastered across her. And she could feel where his release leaked out of her, where it had been smeared on the inside of her thighs, where it was congealing on the sheets beneath her.

So not only was she cold, but she felt very gross. And very much in need of a bath.

But she was wrapped up in her lover’s arms, and he seemed intent on holding her close, his soft breaths ghosting across her collarbone.

“Astarion,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. It was softer than silk, and still cool to the touch despite how she had run her fingers through it, twisted them into his curls at every chance she got. He sighed against her, his lashes fluttering as he shifted.

“Astarion.” She slid her hand down to the nape of his neck, playing with the wispy baby hairs that curled there. “I know you’re awake.”

“So what if I am?” His response was muffled, rumbling through her bones from where he pressed his face against her bare chest.

She traced her finger over the curve of his ear, biting the inside of her cheek as he shivered. “I want to take a bath.”

His only response was a groan, clutching her tighter.

“I feel sticky.”

“I’m far too comfortable to move, love.”

She huffed, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I’m covered in dried blood! And other things.”

Now he did lift his head, his crimson eyes bright in the shadows of the room. She caught the glimmer of his teeth as he smiled, his canines looking especially deadly in the dark. “You could know I could help if there’s something you’d like inside of you.”

A few hours ago his words might have made her blush, might have made her flustered enough to try and look away before he inevitably caught her to tease her some more. But his voice was heavy with sleep, his words more of a quiet murmur than anything seductive. It just sounded a little silly, and she snorted, a smile spreading across her lips.

“You could help by letting me go and letting me bathe.”

Now he was the one huffing, shifting until they were eye-to-eye, his arms never leaving her sides. “And why would I want to do that when I’m so comfortable right here?”

“Because you love me?” She cupped his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks just the tiniest bit. He was always giving her odd looks when she did it, squishing his face or showering his head in kisses or hugging him as tight as she dared. But even if one brow was arched in question, he always smiled softly, his eyes warm with contentment. As if perhaps he liked the sudden onslaught of affection, even if it seemed a little strange.

He chuckled, idly stroking her side. “I do love you. More than anything.”

She leaned closer, until their noses practically bumped together. “So you’ll come bathe with me?”

His brows rose, one arm releasing her as he trailed his hand up her arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?”

She didn’t bother to respond with words this time, simply whining, putting on her best pout and hoping it would be enough to sway him.

A snort. “Nice try, darling. But I like having you here in my arms.”

Not nice enough, clearly. She whined again, louder this time, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Please, my love?” She went so far as to whimper, peeking up at him through her lashes, fingers still toying with his hair. “Please? You could come with me and then it would be so much nicer.”

He hummed, smirking as she wiggled closer, ignoring the stickiness between her thighs and the dull ache radiating through her nerves.

“Please?”

His eyes closed, and she knew she had won before he even started to sigh. But he did sigh, long and dramatic and very drawn out.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, fixing a glare on her that was entirely undercut by the smile still playing at his lips. “If you must. But you had better make sure to use those new oils I bought us. I don’t want to be smelling like cheap bar soap you found at a farmer’s market.”

“That’s not fair! It had smelled so pretty when I’d bought it.” She frowned, ducking her head. “I don’t know what happened that made it so plain.”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, slowly dragging his knuckles down the side of her neck, his eyes softening. “It was probably enchanted to smell that way until it had been purchased. Or perhaps they simply tricked you and only the display one was perfumed.” He smirked. “Which is why you need me to help select the best perfumes and soaps.”

Rolling her eyes, she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “What would I do without you, my love?”

“You would be lost.”

“And I’d smell bad.” She smiled as he laughed, warmth blooming like a new flower in the spring.

“Thank goodness you do have me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’ll have me forever.”

If not for the chill in the air and the discomfort clinging to her skin, she probably could have stayed there for an eternity. He’d teased her mercilessly for how much she’d loved to curl up in his arms, but he’d always seemed just as keen to cuddle with her, his arms fitting perfectly around her, his breath tangling in her hair or tickling her neck, his hands stroking her sides or her back.

But she was cold, and she was uncomfortable, and as perfect as his arms and his body were, she felt desperate enough to peel her skin off if she did not bathe soon.

It was with a pathetic whine that she coaxed him from the bed, hands clasping his as she dragged him from the bedroom. He grumbled wordlessly, even as he let himself get tugged into the bathroom, eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the darkness.

She could hardly see in the dark, and it was only with Astarion’s help that she was able to light the candles that lined the counter in the bathroom, illuminating everything in a soft glow.

It was an effort to keep her eyes averted, to pretend like she didn’t think he looked beautiful, the edges of his body blurred by the candlelight, his face softened by the golden glow. He looked a little like his namesake, like a star given form, blessing her with his light.

Although if she told him that she would certainly never hear the end of it. Even now she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she filled the tub, tracking the steam as it curled towards the ceiling and melted out of sight.

“My love.” She felt his hand at her hip, soft as a whisper. She knew this game, knew he wanted her to turn around, to focus her attention on him. She could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the laughter she could hear in it though neither of them had made a joke. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“What do you mean?” She was careful to avoid meeting his gaze, gently brushing her hand over his. “I’m getting the bath ready. Alone, might I add.”

“Well, I’m here for moral support. And you’re doing such a good job I’d hate to get in your way.”

Against her better judgement she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. It earned her a bout of warm laughter that seeped into her veins like sun-warmed honey, heat blossoming in her belly. It was immediately followed by his hands taking her face, his lips stretching into a wide smile, the knife-sharp points of his canines glinting in the candlelight.

“That’s better.” He tipped his head to the side, his eyes softening. “I was worried you had grown tired of looking at me.”

She covered his hands with hers. “I’ll never grow tired of you for as long as I live.”

Lines appeared on his forehead as his brows drew together. So she stood on her toes, gently pressing her lips to each line until they were smoothed away and she could feel his smile against her skin. His hands slid away from her face, but she kept her fingers tangled with his, not wanting to let go just yet.

“My love…” He trailed off, humming as he lowered his head, the coolness of his teeth scraping over her skin making her shiver. “Wasn’t there something else you were doing?”

“You distracted me.” His answering laughter tickled her neck as he hovered above the marks leftover from where he had bitten her.

“You were preparing a bath, I believe?”

She took hold of his face this time as she rocked back on her heels, pulling his head back just enough to meet his eyes, to see the mischief shining in them. “You know, I think this is the exact opposite of getting in my way.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He was awfully good at feigning innocence; his eyes were wide and sorrowful, a small pout pulling at his lips. Had she not known him she would have fallen for it entirely, believing him utterly innocent of any wrong-doing.

But she did know him, and she knew exactly how not innocent he could be.

She clicked her tongue. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll just bathe on my own.”

She spun around quickly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing as he began to whine, trying to get her attention all over again.”

“My love.”

She went searching for his precious oils, finding them lined up in the corner of the small cabinet above the counter. They seemed to shimmer as she held them up to the light, as she uncorked them to smell them each and make sure she was grabbing the right ones. He was so particular about such things and she wanted to make sure she got it right.

“My darling.” His voice pitched up, cracking a bit as she began adding the oils to the bath. “I thought you wanted me to come with you!”

Much as she wanted to pretend she had a strong resolve, it crumbled to dust with just the slightest of provocation from him. How she was supposed to ignore his desperate whining, even when she knew it was a trap, was beyond her. So when he reached for her hand, drawing her closer, she didn’t resist, instead letting herself be gathered against his chest, his smug smirk illuminated in the glow of the candles.

“Well? Do you truly still plan to leave me and bathe all on your own?” One of his hands slipped down her side, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his featherlight touch. “I could be of help, you know. I’ve become quite intimate with your body, I’m sure I could help in some way.”

She frowned. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

His answering laughter was bright, like summertime sunshine was bathing them in its golden light. It made her smile, giggles bubbling up in her throat as he laughed, pale cheeks flushing with just a hint of colour, the same pink that promised the coming dawn and the warmth that would follow.

His expression was soft again as his laughter passed, as he waited for her own bout of giggles to melt away, that soft colour still clinging to his skin. It took her a moment to identify the look in his eyes, the gentleness with which he held her gaze, with how he rested his hands at her sides. And when the realization hit her, she felt like her breath was stolen away, yanked from her lungs with a gasp.

He looked happy. He looked so genuinely happy that her eyes began to burn, her heart aching from how it pressed against the cage of her ribs.

Lines appeared on his brow once more, the corners of his lips turning down. “What’s wrong? My darling, why are you crying?”

She shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m not.”

“Just because I can’t go out into the sun doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know.” He huffed, mouth curling into a half-smile, something like sadness hanging at the edges. “Have I done something wrong?”

She sniffed, shaking her head furiously. “No! No, not at all. I just have something caught in my eye, that’s all.”

Nothing in his expression said he believed her, but he didn’t push the issue. “Well then, should we get in before the water gets cold?” He leaned close, his voice dipping to a sultry tenor. “Or is there something else you would rather do?”

She didn’t even have to respond before he was laughing again, grinning broadly as he drew back. “My darling, you make this far too easy. Your face is all flushed and I’ve hardly done a thing.”

He’d actually done quite a lot of things today, but her tongue was suddenly too heavy to properly articulate anything sharp and witty she could say in response. And she didn’t have anything sharp and witty to say in response either, a pleasant fog settling over her mind as fatigue tugged at her.

Instead she just climbed into the tub, sinking as far beneath the water as she could, only her nose and eyes still above water as he followed behind, still looking far too pleased with himself.

He reached for the little shelf of bottles that lined the wall next to the tub, the soft light of the flickering candles casting a golden glow around the room. If she hadn’t known him she would have thought he was an angel with how the light gilded his features, twined with the strands of his hair and made it glow. Even that infuriating, devilish smile looked soft in the light, still clinging to his lips as he tilted one of the bottles up to the light.

Her eyes were burning again, her chest aching, too small for her heart, for all of the emotion tearing it apart at the seams. Had there ever been such a beautiful smile? Had there ever been such a precious person ever before?

No, she was certain that there had not been.

He was watching her, and she realized it with a start, her breath catching as she met his eyes.

“What’s the matter, pet? You look like you’ve had a spell cast over you.”

She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood, although the fuzzy feeling around her mind and the warmth in her chest did not dissipate against the sharp pain. She had drunk no wine and yet she felt a little drunk all the same, a little like she was hovering just beyond her body, her edges blurry, everything warm.

He moved closer, taking her hand. “What’s on your mind?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, like a fish gasping for breath on dry land. She really could not say, not unless she wanted to be teased mercilessly, caught gawking at him like a child with a crush.

“Well?” He tipped his head to the side, reminding her of a predator.

Her voice would not come to her, and so she decided that she would express how she felt in a different way, her heart wishing terribly to be able to keep his heart warm, to keep that smile bright on his lips, to keep his eyes soft but never sorrowful again.

“What are you doing?” He blinked at her as she plucked the small bottle of shampoo from his hand, the sensual countenance falling away.

“Let me help you clean up,” she said, rolling the bottle between her palms. “I can wash your hair for you.”

He continued to blink, his brow creasing. Her heart constricted, fear sluicing through her veins, making her fear she had overstepped, that this was something unwanted. She’d already coaxed him from sleep, perhaps she was pushing against his boundaries.

“Only if you want to,” she amended. “If you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

When he tipped his head to the side it was less predatory this time, reminding her more of the curious head tilt small animals often did when you were speaking to them with a cadence they liked. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you, darling?”

She muttered under her breath about how much of a menace he was, even as she squeezed out the shampoo into her palm. He was smirking, watching her intently.

“You have to turn around,” she instructed, earning nothing but a rebellious smirk. 

“Now why would I do that when it means I can’t see your adorable face?” He twirled a hand in the air, gesturing to her face. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the pretty flush on your cheeks.”

She tried spinning him around, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. “Turn around! How else am I supposed to wash your hair?!”

“Just like this, darling.” He cupped her face, water sluicing down his arms, falling back into the tub with a quiet plinking.

“I feel like you’re trying to embarrass me.”

He clicked his tongue. “I would never dare.”

“I think you would dare.” She couldn’t bring herself to push his arms away, deciding she would have to yield. “I think you would just to see me squirm.”

“Well…” Unable to come up with an appropriate excuse, he merely shrugged. “I like that colour on your cheeks.”

“I didn’t realize you were an artist,” she deadpanned, lathering the shampoo between her palms. “And that you had such a nuanced appreciation of colours.”

“Only when it comes to you, love.”

She sighed, no clever rejoinder coming to mind. She liked getting the last word in, but Astarion so rarely gave her such an opportunity. He always had something else to say, something sharp and clever if not something that would make her blush so fiercely she thought she would burst into flame.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But you have to lower your head for me.”

He had no smart comment for that, instead quietly acquiescing, ducking his head enough so that she could run her fingers through his hair, dragging the shampoo through the silken strands.

She hummed, smiling as the gentle, moonlit ivory waves were smushed beneath the shampoo. She might have gathered it all up into a point, making him look a little silly while he trusted her to wash his hair. But he was always trying to make himself look perfect, and she didn’t mind when he looked less than perfect, when he looked silly or disheveled. He didn’t have to pretend with her, and she didn’t want him to.

“You’re doing something ridiculous to my hair, aren’t you?” He seemed to read her thoughts, peeking up at her from beneath his ivory lashes.

“Nooo.” She shook her head, massaging his scalp. “I would never dare.”

“So you are.”

She huffed, pouting as she ran her fingers down the back of his scalp, pressing gently against the back of his neck, making sure to catch the soft baby hairs that curled there.

“I trust it won’t look like that forever?” The corners of his lips quirked up, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Right?”

She didn’t respond, fixing her gaze elsewhere, trying to ignore the way his eyes bored into her skin.

Another click of his tongue. She nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt his hand on her face, the pad of his thumb running across her bottom lip. “Why are you pouting? I thought this is what you wanted.”

“And I thought you were too tired to tease me like this.”

He tapped his thumb against her lip in time with her heartbeat. “I never said that.”

“I kind of assumed.”

“My love, I’m never too tired to tease you.” His hand fell back into the water with a quiet splash. “But please continue.”

“I’m just about done with your hair,” she admitted, dunking her hands into the water. “You’ll have to lean forward more or tilt your head back so I can rinse it.”

He straightened, shifting awkwardly so he could tip his head back, the sharp points of his ears grazing the surface of the water, sending out little ripples.

She scooted to the side, careful to keep the water from spilling into his eyes as she began scooping it up and pouring handfuls of water into his hair. “You know this would have been easier if you’d just turned around.”

He splashed her, rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons.”

“Would you care to divulge them?” She splashed him right back, not bothering to show the same care this time as water and suds sluiced over his face.

He sputtered, wiping his eyes. “Well not anymore, you wicked thing.”

“I think I’m quite nice.”

He flicked water at her as he sat up. “You’re not being particularly nice right now.”

She splashed him again, harder this time. Water rolled over the lip of the tub like ocean waves, puddling across the floor. “I am SO nice! I’m the nicest! I let you pick out the shampoos and soaps we use! I let you pick out the curtains! I let you be the little spoon!”

The more reasons she was, theoretically, “nice,” the more she laughed. Small giggles at first, bubbling into a laughter that gripped her lungs, shook her body until she was snorting with every breath. Her hands trembled as she tried to cover her face in a vain effort to staunch the flow, but it was of no avail. She felt like a fool, she felt dizzy, almost drunk although she’d had no alcohol.

Astarion snorted alongside her, eyes crinkling in bemusement. “I can let you be the little spoon if you want, my love. I had no idea you were sacrificing so much for my comfort.” Another snort, another flick of the water, sending her into another fit of hysterics. His lips stretched wide, a crescent moon smile that made her heart glow. “I didn’t realize falling asleep in my arms was something of such importance. Although I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Backing up until her back hit the edge of the tub, she covered her face, shoulder shuddering with laughter. “It’s not even that funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

“I’m not sure either.” He moved closer, just enough to find her hand and run his thumb across her knuckles. “But I like the sound.”

“I was snorting!”

“But they were such cute snorts.” He was tracing the lines of her palm now, watching her with such warmth in his eyes she thought she would melt into the water and turn to suds and foam.

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

His bottom lip popped out; an adorable, impossible to resist pout that could make her to cave to almost anything he asked. To stay in bed for a little while longer, to buy him that pretty shirt they’d seen at a night market, to wear the glittering circlet he had mysteriously procured because it matched one that he owned.

“Don’t you trust me?” His eyes were wide as a doe’s, his voice soft as feather down. She was lost to him already, to that sorrowful, beseeching look. Lost to that quiet, almost whiny tone.

She knew she was being played, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

It was with gritted teeth that she managed a quiet. “I trust you.”

His expression morphed almost immediately, his eyes bright once more, his teeth bared from the brightness of his smile. “Marvelous! I’m glad we’re in agreement that you’re adorable.”

“You’re awful.”

He kissed the back of her hand, his laughter rumbling into her bones. “And I’m all yours, my darling.”

Gentle warmth spread from her heart, beating steadily, spurred on by the sudden sweetness of his words. Her arms grew warm next, her belly, her fingertips, everything tingling as if she were caught in a warm haze. He was all hers, he was hers to love and care for and cherish. To hold close when they slept, to share the quiet moments with, to share the loud moments with too. Of course. There would always be loud moments with him, the unexpected always rearing its head as they searched for a cure for him, a way for him to stand free in the sunlight.

“You are,” she agreed. He was hers, and he had given his heart to her willingly. It had been his choice, and she would make sure to treasure it, to treasure him, for as long as she drew breath. And as long as her heart beat, it beat for him. “And I’m yours.”

A strange look came upon his face then, something between sadness and elation, something she could not name. It was gone far too quickly for her to dissect it, his lips brushing against her hand once more before he drew away, a smile plastered on his face once more.

“You most certainly are, my darling.” He gave her hand one final squeeze before letting it go, twirling a hand through the air as he gestured to his hair. “Now about whatever you’ve done here.”

“Will you turn around now?” Whatever had snagged her attention briefly flitted away. Suds were streaking down the sides of his face, his hair half matted, pure ivory with the shampoo still caked into his scalp.

It was only with a long, petulant sigh that he turned around, laying back so his head was nearly in her lap so she could finish rinsing his hair.

“Now was that so hard?” She teased, supporting his head with one hand while she used the other to pour palmfuls of water onto his hair.

“It was torturous. I couldn’t see you for a whole minute.”

“Oh please.” She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comb out the rest of the shampoo. “You’re such a baby.”

His brow furrowed. “I am not! I’ll have you know I’m over two hundred years old-”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she cut him off. “Yes yes, you’re an over two hundred year old vampire, you’re terrifying and powerful and someone to be feared. But you’re still a baby.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to retort.

“And you’re my baby,” she finished, cutting him off once again.

She swore colour flared in his cheeks, at the tips of his ears. He looked away quickly, whatever sharp comment he’d been about to make dying before it made it to his lips. “I suppose it’s acceptable when you say it like that.”

Curling forward she brushed her lips to his brow, listening as he sighed. 

He started to lift his head as she drew away, chasing after her in search of another kiss, but she gently coaxed him back down, cradling the back of his head once more. “Just relax, love.”

At first he did not relax, his eyes flickering to her face and along the shadowed ceiling of the room. But after a while she felt as he settled himself more comfortably against her. His upper back was cushioned atop her legs, his head cradled in her palm, just above her thighs, his legs drawn up so his knees cut through the water like mountains on the other side of an ocean.

“Let me know if anything is uncomfortable, okay?” She ran her hand around the sides of his ears, making sure she caught the last of the suds, making sure to rinse his hair fully so that when it dried it would be fluffy and soft just as it always was. She combed her fingers across his scalp, massaging gently, smiling as he gave a quiet hum of assent. The lines in his brow were smoothed away, his face softened in the light. He looked peaceful, serene as she rinsed the last of the shampoo away.

She could have told him to move then, that she was done and he had to sit up, but she found she did not want to, could not bring herself to be pried from this position. His weight against her was a comfort, the tranquil look on his face a balm to her heart, his even breaths lulling her into her own state of peace.

He looked calm, he looked happy, and she was loath to end the moment, for that gentle stillness to melt into the suds and bathwater.

So instead she reached for his preferred soaps, lathering it between her palms and running her hands over his shoulders, massaging the soap into his skin.

He shifted, a brow arching. “What are you doing now, my love?”

“Cleaning you up,” she said, pausing as worry flitted through her mind. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

His eyes opened, and where she had expected accusation she saw only the softness that accompanied a flower just beginning to bloom, petals not yet the brilliant crimson of blood. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s nice.” He sighed, eyes falling closed once more. “And I trust you.”

She was thankful to be sitting, because she was certain her legs would have given out on her from hearing such words from his lips.

She carried on, moving her hands over his arms and hands, sliding them back up to wash his chest, his torso. Eventually she did have to ask him to sit up, water sluicing down his back as she fetched a cloth to wash his back, careful to ensure her touch was light as she ran it over the lines of his scar. Her stomach still roiled when she saw it, remembering the sharp pain in his voice when he’d told her of its history, and when she remembered the scarlet light that he had been bathed in, that had set the scar aglow.

She bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing herself back into the present. That was behind them, it was behind him, and he would never have to fear his old vampire master agait. There was no more ritual, no more control, no more sacrifice. The scars would never glow again, they would never be anything more than scars. Fading reminders of a shadowed life and misery she would do everything she could to make sure he never felt ever again.

Suds spilled down his back, and she brought cupped hands of water to the nape of his neck, letting the water spill down his back as she began wiping up the suds. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at all, okay?” She scooped up more water and watched as it spilled down his back, washing away the last of the suds.

He gave a quiet hum of assent, seeming content to let her do as she wished for the moment. He was turned away from her, but she imagined the peaceful expression that must have been on his face. The dreamy smile, the pale pink of his cheeks, the same expression he often had when he first awoke, serene and blissful like he were caught in a beautiful dream.”

“I love you.” She murmured the words as she brought her lips to the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”

The quietness of the moment should have concerned her, but she’d written it off as him still being sleepy as she continued. She alternated between washing him up and scattering stray kisses along his skin. His shoulders, his sides, his arms. She made sure to catch all the little crooks of his body, fingers tangling together with his for half a heartbeat as she trailed soap and suds over his arms again before she rinsed him off.

“Alright.” She’d only just dunked the cloth back into the sudsy water, eying the lineup of pretty, colourful bottles along the shelf next to the tub, trying to figure out which ones were his favourites. They were unlabelled, but she knew what scents he liked best. “Don’t tell me which one is your favourite, okay? I think I know.”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she reached for the closest one, the one she was pretty sure smelled of bergamot. It was only then, as her fingers closed around the little bottle, did she notice the slight tremble of his shoulders, the soft sniffling sound that was quickly drowned out by the splash of water.

She drew back at once, the bottle slipping from her fingers and plunging into the water. For such a dramatic moment, as her breath caught in her lungs, she would have thought it would have made a louder sound as it crashed from her hand. But no, the bottle made little more than a quiet plink as it slipped beneath the surface of the water, the silence hanging in the air heavy, deafening in comparison.

“Astarion?” Her heart constricted, her lungs shuddering as they tried and failed to draw in breath. She hesitated before settling her hands on his shoulders, not knowing what else to do. “My love? Is something the matter?”

A beat. It was little more than half a moment but it could have been a century for how the time stretched between her question and his response.

“Nothing, darling.” His voice was much softer than usual, so soft she would have missed the tremor in it had she not been so close, had she not felt as it vibrated through him, resonating between them in the place where she had laid her palms.

“It’s not nothing.” She wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he was hiding. But when she leaned forward he turned his head away, nothing but his damp curls filling her sight.

“Astarion.” She settled one hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair back from his ear. “My love, why won’t you look at me?”

He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his face. “It’s nothing. I think there’s some soap in my eye.”

“Let me see,” she insisted, reaching for his face. She cupped the cheek furthest from her, gently drawing his face towards her. “If there’s soap in your eye let me help get it out.”

He did not put up any resistance, although when he finally faced her fully he did not meet her eyes. Instead he just stared down into the water, his hands awkwardly clenched together in his lap. Red rimmed his eyes, his cheeks a splotchy red that spoke of tears, not the gentle flush of contentment or love. His face was wet, although that was most certainly from the bath as much as it was from his quiet tears.

Her hand slipped from his cheek along the curve of his neck, pausing only to rest on his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall as he took slow, measured breaths. “Oh my love, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

His hand covered hers, an empty smile shuddering at the edges of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. I just got something stuck in my eye, probably from being distracted by your hands.” His voice dropped an octave, was sweet as syrup, warm as the buzz of alcohol when she’d drank too much wine. “I was thinking about all of the other things they could do.”

The smile at his lips grew wider, the sharp points of his canines peaking out. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, but they fell just as quickly, no smile in them.

“Is it me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, drawing her hand from him and pressing it against her own chest. She slid backwards, worry an oily creature squeezing her belly until she thought she might retch. “Have I done something wrong? Something to hurt you?”

Ruby eyes flared wide, the water moving like ocean waves, spilling over the lip of the tub as he closed the small amount of distance between them. He cupped her face with such tenderness she thought she would be the one to cry now.

His voice was a dry rasp, his brow lined. “You have done nothing wrong, I swear. I promise, you are…” His eyes softened. “You are perfect.”

Some of the tightness in her belly eased. She wanted to reach out to him, but she held back, still fearing that perhaps her touch had been too much. Perhaps she had pushed him beyond the bounds of his comfort. She sounded small, like a child, when she finally asked “then what’s wrong? Why will you not tell me what’s wrong?”

A long sigh fell from his lips, his hands finding hers in the water, fingers threading together. He seemed to hesitate, his eyes scanning her face for a long moment, his brow drawn. 

“It’s not that something is wrong…” He tipped his head to the side, a humourless laugh ringing hollowly in the air.

She chewed on the corner of her lip, unsure whether to press him for details or to give him space to speak. Maybe he just needed to think through what he was going to say.

The corner of his lip twitched. “Don’t bite your lip like that, my sweet. I can smell the blood from here.”

She froze, frowning. “I haven’t even bit it that hard-” The coppery taste of blood spread across her tongue and she frowned even more, watching as his smile grew wider. “Hey! Don’t change the subject.”

“I can’t help it when all I can think about is sinking my teeth into your lips.”

He seemed quite proud of that line, and she wasted no time in splashing his face, washing it away. He sputtered, wiping his face, his smug little grin replaced by a pout.

“My eyes are up here,” she motioned to her face, earning the return of a small smirk. “Astarion, please. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if there’s something I did wrong, or something I could do to help.”

It was another beat before he responded, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love. And I’m not upset, I promise.”

She elected to remain quiet this time, fluttering her fingers along the surface of the water as opposed to worrying her bottom lip with her teeth lest she distract him yet again.

The tenor of his voice softened, warm and low, reaching into her mind and easing away the last of her anxieties. “It’s quite the opposite, actually. It’s just…” He trailed off, holding her gaze steady as he searched for the right words. When finally they came to him, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, soft as feather down, as morning sunshine in the air. “You were being so gentle. You weren’t trying to seduce me, or manipulate me. You just…”

Again he trailed off. He reached for the hand still skimming across the top of the water, holding it tight. “I didn’t want to say anything because it felt absurd to be crying over such a thing. I know you love me. And yet.” He shrugged. “I was overwhelmed. I felt so loved.”

His words hung, suspended in the air between them like spider’s silk. Delicate and gauzy, shimmering with the silver of moonlight as it was spun. She wasn’t thinking as she reached out to him, as she crawled into his lap with her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the wet curls.

“My love,” she breathed. She could not find her voice, her words little more than a flutter of gossamer wings, butterflies caught in a storm, a lone songbird taking flight in morning mists. Her heart was aching, her ribs cracking, splintering beneath it, the power of her voice stolen as the feeling drowned her veins.

His brows lifted, confusion and yearning twined together in his eyes. “Yes?���

“I love you.” It was all she could think of to say, the only words that would form in her mind for the longest of times. She ought to be better with her words, but in this moment, her fingers wrinkled and the water tepid, there was nothing else. “I love you entirely.”

“And I love you, darling,” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I love you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, saying the words over and over again like a prayer. “I love you. I adore you. My chest aches from how much I love you.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as she passed her lips over his, as she scattered kisses across his cheeks and brow and the sharp tips of his ears. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“I want you to feel loved everyday, always.” A kiss to the side of his neck, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I love you, I’ll always love you.”

His arms came around her sides, hands resting on her back. “My love…”

She couldn’t stop now, smiling as his eyes flicked skyward in an eye-roll. “I love you!”

He held her tighter, drawing her in closer. “I love you too.”

“I love you with all my heart.” A brush of her lips against the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows, the hollow of his throat. His hands tightened, fingers pressing into her skin. “I’ll find a way to live forever so I can love you forever.”

A garbled sound escaped from his lips and she froze, her grip loosening in his hair. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping it until she loosed her hold, her hands aching.

“No,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “No, don’t stop.”

Silver pooled in the corners of his eyes when she pulled away, lines tracking down his cheeks and gathering at the edges of his jaw. Little droplets tumbled silently down, little ripples spreading across the surface of the water.

“Are you sure?”

A small nod, one hand sliding up her back, resting at the nape of her neck. “I am sure. Don’t stop.” He offered her a small smile, even as tears streaked down his face. “Please?”

She brushed the tears away with the pads of her thumbs, cupping his face as she brought her lips to his again. She grinned as he sighed, his lips parting against hers. It was so incredibly gentle, so tender and soft that she almost burst into tears too, feeling like she might melt into a puddle and be washed away with the soap and the suds.

“I love you,” she murmured as she broke away, breathless even as she drew breath. Shadows clung to the walls, stretched out from the corners and puddled along the floor, the flickering candlelight never quite reaching fully into the cracks and corners of the room. Yet for all that shadow everything seemed to burn bright, everything awash in technicolour. It was like an artist had come in and painted over a sketch done in grey, bringing it to life with colours she could not even name, made of crushed gemstones and sunlight and sugar.

Another sob bubbled to the surface, but it was chased by a soft laugh. The hand at her neck twisted into her hair, his free hand stroking her side gently, reverently. He looked away from her, lips pressed into a thin line as if he were embarrassed from the sound.

“You’re safe, you know,” she promised, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”

He snorted, chuckling softly as he slowly looked back at her. “For being told I’m loved?”

She brushed away another tear. “Yes, exactly.”

He looked incredulous. “Really.” It wasn’t a question so much as a comment, one brow quirking up. “You don’t mind?”

“I’m just glad you trust me.” She traced the line of his jaw. “That you feel safe with me.”

He looked on the verge of saying something smart, so she kissed him quickly, fighting against her smile as he let out a choked sound, all that remained of whatever his snarky little comment would have been.

“That was unfair,” he whined, trying and failing to glower at her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kissed the corner of one eye, then the other, the shudder that wracked through him echoing in the hollows of her bones. “I just love you, I couldn’t help it.”

He chuckled again, running his fingers through her hair now. “Well if you’re that determined to shower me with affection, I suppose I shouldn’t stop you.”

She frowned. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want you to stop.”

“Even if it makes you cry?”

His pale brows rose higher, the corner of his lip twitching. “Only if you promise to kiss them away.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling as close as she could to the coolness of his body. Tepid water sloshed around her hips, but she did not care, did not even notice as the bath grew colder. It could have been made of ice and snow and still she would have felt nothing but the warmth of her heart, burning as hot as a star set to explode and spread fire and stardust through her veins. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, feel it beat in time with her own, a harmony only they could create.

“I promise,” she murmured, lips against the curve of his jaw, trailing kisses up his face, tasting salt on her tongue.

“Then I definitely don’t want you to stop.”

She could have said something smart then. About how he was ridiculous, how he was being awfully needy and demanding. But in truth she didn’t have it in her to say something sharp, to come up with some witty rejoinder. Any smart comments she made were like training swords to the sharp-edged daggers he could create with only his tongue anyways. But more than that, she just didn’t want to. Why would she cut through the delicate gossamer of this moment? Why would she tear apart the diaphanous veil that clung to them?

All she wanted to do most days was hold him to her chest and press her face into his hair as she breathed in the rosemary and bergamot that he was so fond of. She wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss his face until he blushed, until he laughed, until he was so full of love he would never doubt his worth again. To run her hands down his back, to tangle her fingers in his hair and comb them through his curls, to soothe him so he felt safe as he slept. 

She was not about to pass up an opportunity to do exactly that, and she was not about to tease him when she was nearly fracturing from the effort it took to keep everything she felt contained in her veins and her bones.

She had been struck dumb with love, but she had never been happier, never been so glad to sit in a cold bath with wrinkled fingers. There were not even any words to describe it, so she repeated the same words over and over. That she loved him, oh how she loved him, her precious Astarion.

Eventually his tears began to slow, his quiet sobs no longer echoing through the room. She didn’t pull away, at least not right away, wanting to stay tangled with him for just a little while longer. She murmured one more “I love you,” pressed one more kiss to the corner of his lips, before she pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were filled with stars when she found them, the smile on his lips adoring. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She brushed a damp curl behind his ear. “But you’re not crying any longer.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stop, darling.” He sighed, mischief in his eyes once more. “And just when I was enjoying it, too.”

She splashed water at him, snickering as he shouted. “Come on! The water is getting cold!”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, their chests pressing together, holding her fast. “I’m not the one who started kissing me, darling.”

“I was trying to make you feel loved,” she whined, wiggling in his grasp but finding she was unable to escape.

“And you very much succeeded.” He spoke languidly, drawing out each word slowly, the sharp points of his teeth catching the buttery light. “I’ve never felt so loved before, in all my long, depraved existence.”

She looped her arms around his neck once more, running her fingers through his hair. “Well I’m very glad for that.”

He inclined his head, an approving smile on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I want to let go of you just yet.”

“Astarion,” she hissed. “I wanted to take a bath.”

He was all wickedness now, tilting his head back, holding her fast with his eyes as much as with his arms. “And I wanted to stay curled up in my lover’s arms.”

A shiver ran down her spine, her body momentarily out of her control as she shook. She pressed closer against her better judgement, searching for the scraps of warmth his body offered.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, reminding her of a lazy cat from the way he watched her with half-lidded eyes. “So doesn’t this seem like an answer to what we both want?”

“We’re not exactly doing any bathing.” She shivered again, gooseflesh rushing across her arms.

The way he smirked made it seem like he had won a prize, all satisfaction and smug delight. “It looks to me like you’d be better off staying in my arms, darling. If you don’t, you might catch a chill.”

Frowning, she planned to push away from him and crawl out of the bath, but she was shivering again, harder this time, her teeth clacking together. For all the warmth stored within the cage of her ribs, beating endlessly in time with his heart, clearly it was not enough to keep the chills away when she was waist-deep in a cold bath.

Astarion grimaced, taking note of the gooseflesh prickling her skin, the way her teeth clattered together, the unending shivers she could not seem to control. He pried one hand from his hair, inspecting her palm, before sighing dramatically. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking away at the line of candles, watching as wax pooled at their bases.

A click of his tongue drew her attention back, although she wished she had not looked back as she was met with a look of reproach, his mouth a thin line, the corners of his eyes creased as they narrowed.

It was so bizarre, so utterly absurd to see such an expression on his face, when usually there was mirth or mischief or plain wickedness, that she couldn’t help but giggle.

He cocked his head to the side, the gesture of a predator having cornered its prey. “I’m not really sure what you find so funny,” he said leaning close. “But please, do enlighten me.”

“Nothing!” She shook her head quickly as she squeaked out her response. “There’s nothing that’s funny.”

“Hmm,” was his only response, although he looked like he didn’t believe her for even a second.

She tried to draw her hand away, to press it safely to her chest, but he held it tightly, his eyes boring into hers for a long, long while.

“I’m only a little cold,” she said, finally conceding. “I hardly noticed it.”

He sighed, loosening his hold. “Well I think it probably is a good idea to get out of the bath.”

She was not afforded a moment to consider his words as he stood, capturing her in his arms as he stepped from the tub.

“Hey! I haven’t washed up yet.” She wriggled in his arms, trying to get free.

“Relax.” He smirked, setting her down. “You’re not bathing in freezing water.”

“It wasn’t freezing.” She pretended she didn’t see the way his eyes flicked to the goosebumps still crawling across her arms and her legs now, too. Or the way she shivered again.

He sighed. “It’s a good thing I don’t love you for your intelligence.”

“Excuse me?!”

His hands hovered on either side of her face, his nose bumping against hers as he kissed her lightly. “I adore you, my dear.”

She glared at him as he drew back. “That is not what you said.”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, moving away to begin draining the bath. “I adore you, and I will always love you, no matter what silly things you say.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re not implying I’m dumb.”

He held a hand to his chest, looking stricken. “On my honour! I would never say such a thing.”

She considered turning around and stomping back to bed. But there had been a reason she had wanted to bathe, beyond lavishing Astarion in love, and she still itched to wash her body of the sweat and blood and other things that still clung to her.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling.” He looked on the verge of pouting again, reaching for her hands. “You’ll have some cuddles again in just a few minutes.”

“What are you plotting?”

“Don’t look so suspicious, I’m only drawing you a new bath.” He huffed, making a grand show of refilling the tub with steaming water.

Warmth like a newly kindled fire bloomed in her chest, velvet softness wrapping itself around her heart. It was a small gesture, and yet it set her alight, made her feel as though she were glowing a little from gratefulness, from the love that had her in its thrall.

Still, she had to argue, curious why he would do such a thing when he’d only wanted to stay snug in bed in the first place. “I can do it, it’s okay. I know you’d only wanted to remain in bed.”

Another click of his tongue as he reached for some of his oils, sniffing them delicately before sprinkling them across the water. “I never said that.”

She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Oh yes, I know.” He set the bottles to the side, offering her his hand, a teasing smile on his lips. “It’s allowed me to get away with much in the past. I’m hoping it will let me get away with much more in our future.”

She took his hand, letting him draw her back into the now steaming water. The heat of the bath seeped into her bones, relaxing her muscles as she sank into the fragrant water, tipping her head back so her hair streamed out behind her.

“How’s that?” Astarion asked, settling into the tub once more. He drew her legs into his lap, running his hands over them beneath the surface of the water. “Better, right?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, it is much better.”

He flicked water her way, smug. “Now where were we?”

“Well I think I was almost done washing you,” she said, her memory hazy. Most of what she remembered was kissing his face, the desire to do so once more like a creature curling in the spaces between her cells, coiled tight, willing to wrap herself in his arms once more if he bid her to.

“That’s right,” he breathed. Something softened in his gaze, his countenance turning gentle, almost reverent. “But you’ve made me feel so loved. I’d like to do the same for you.”

A flush creeped across her face, reaching down her neck and across her chest as he took her hand. “You don’t have, I didn’t do it because I wanted you to reciprocate. I just-”

He kissed her hand, cutting her off, and for a moment he could have been an angel, the soft light gilding his features, his ivory hair glowing like moonlight.

“I know,” he murmured against her skin, eyes opening to find hers. “But I’d like to do it all the same. If you’ll allow me.”

There was nothing hidden in his voice, no double meaning to his words. Nor was his smile sly, or his eyes sharp as daggers. Nothing but earnestness lay in his countenance, a determined sincerity that had her caving at once. 

How could ever say no to such a display? Even now that his enslavement was behind him and his sire long dead, he was still guarded. Less so with her, but guarded all the same. It would take many years to coax him fully from his habits, from his attempts to shield himself and his true emotions. But he was not shielding himself now, he was not hiding anything. So how could she ever say no when his heart had unfurled like a flower in bloom, unveiling how he truly felt?

She leaned forward to cup his cheek with her free hand, unable to pry herself away from touching him gently, from stroking his face with light fingers. “Nothing would make me happier, love.”

He leaned into her touch, a sigh feathering across her skin as his eyes closed. “Are you sure there is nothing that has ever made you happier?”

“Astarion.”

He lifted both hands, palms out in surrender. His eyes fluttered open, his lashes tickling the tips of her fingers. “I was only teasing, love. Although.” His voice turned smooth as warmed butter. “I hope that everything I do makes you happy.”

“You make me happiest,” she breathed.

He sighed again, one hand circling around her wrist, his shoulders sagging. He looked like he was on the verge of melting, of falling apart and slumping into her arms. But he straightened, pressing a kiss to her palm before pulling away. “Then let me show you how much I love you.”

True to his word he did his best to wash her in kind, and the feeling of the warm water and the soap and his scattered kisses were so heavenly she nearly cried, too. They stayed together until the water grew cold once more, and then they wrapped themselves in soft towels, water puddling beneath their feet as they returned to their bedroom, as they perched on the bed while she carefully toweled off his hair, biting back a grin at how it stood up at funny angles.

And when water no longer beaded on their skin they curled up in bed once more, tangled together beneath the layers of blankets. Astarion’s head was pillowed against her chest, and she idly ran her fingers through his still-damp curls, listening to the even tempo of his breaths, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest.

“I love you,” she murmured into his hair, stifling a yawn as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, a sleepy response that she felt in her bones more than heard quivering in the air. It made her smile, her arms tightening around him as she tried to hold him closer. She was happy, happier than she’d ever thought was possible, and she would do her best to make sure he was happy every day too, until the end of her days.

[stardew-shitposterino]

Stardew Valley Bachelors and how they deal with their secret crush on the farmer

———-——————————

BEHOOOOLD! I’m kind of back but I’m not because I have a job and feel tired most of the time. I still need to get used to adult life. Anyway, here are the bachelors and how they deal with having a fat crush on you, you cutesy farmer person covered in filth!

Contents might be a bit NSFW so MINORS…you know what not to do *fights them off with a stick*

Enjoy my brainrot 🍓🥰

Sam:

-Sammy is a cute little guy, almost like a dog wagging it’s tail when they see their owner.

-he is SO BAD at hiding it

-he will dream about you two jamming on a big stage together. In his ideal world, you two are a successful duo who make noise rock (kind of like the white stripes minus the weird siblings or married controversy)

-Sam will write songs about you. It’s not intentional per say, and he thinks he really sucks at writing love songs, but it just happens whenever he has to think about you. The words just start flowing.

-he might or might not have had some steamy shower fantasies about you…while in the shower. Jodie keeps complaining about the water bill being unusually high 👀

-yet, Sam is usually not too horny when he is in love with you. He is more gushy and daydreamy than anything

Sebastian:

-homeboy works with nightcore versions of love songs to cope with his longing

-he isn’t the type to show his feelings so openly, so no one really notices his crush on you. Maybe Sam, but well, he is Seb’s best bud. Of course he can tell

-He notices how his sleep has improved since having a crush on you. He willingly goes to bed earlier to have some time to imagine scenarios of you two

-just you and him together on his cool ass motorcycle, driving into the night and ending it with a passionate kiss (sounds familiar?)

-well,,, let’s just say Seb is increasingly horny since having a crush on you. Before, he was almost certain he is some sort of asexual, but nope 😃 he’s healthy and extremely down bad for the filthy farmer who eats raw fish out of the pond 🥰

-what I mean by horny? Uhhh… he didn’t really need to rely on certain websites to satisfy his needs, that’s for sure 👀

Harvey:

-Harvey is a good man. A very good man

-god bless his soul 😫

-Harv isn’t the type to have crushes easily…I can’t believe it either, considering his crush on Maru who is way younger than him 💀

-but in my head, he isn’t the type to be all lovey dovey over someone. That’s why he’s so bad at hiding it. But you don’t really notice. You just suspect it but it could also be his usual anxiety lol

-it happened anyway😎 and he doesn’t know how to cope. At all.

-he has to think about you at all times, especially when he looks at the empty jars of delicious pickles you’ve made him

-This man is usually collected, but now?! He forgets everything, can’t even form a comprehensible sentence at times when his mind is busy thinking about a romantic picknick date with a lovely farmer

-Harvey’s libido is pretty much a dead beat horse 💀 but now he even feels the desire to do some nasty nasty at times. It’s still pretty tame, he’s a gentleman through and through, but wild for him to have those feelings and longings after what feels like decades. He’s not mad at it. He has felt low-key dead inside for so long so this is very exciting and he’s eager to explore this side of him…despite being anxious 😭

Elliott:

-bet your ass he’s the prince of crushes

-he is very dedicated and welcomes those refreshing feelings with a kiss

-feeling better than usual AND having inspiration to write ?! SIGN HIM UP

-he will use every chance he can get to talk to you, maybe even get you drunk (in a non creepy way) because he likes when you’re unapologetically authentic and let loose. It makes him feel more in touch with your soul (or some shit idk I’m not a poet)

-Elliott is NOT SUBTLE

-you practically know from the start that he has the hots for you, but it’s kinda funny seeing him try to pretend it’s not that way…if you can even call that pretending not to be 😭

- his passion doesn’t end at his artistry. This guy will spend a lot of time in his shower thinking about what could be, or sitting at the docks at night just staring at the sea (he’s NOT doing anything nasty in public, peeps. Don’t get it twisted)

-I can also see him recreate a romantic bedroom date he’d love to have with you…but it’s just him 🤷🏼‍♀️ self care king 👑

Shane:

-like Harvey: HE CANNOT COPE!

-he hasn’t felt like this since high school. Every other encounter with potential partners was surface level and only based on sexual satisfaction

-so caring about you, thinking about what makes you happy and how he could be the reason you smile every day, that’s a lot for him

-as stupid as it sounds, he spirals and becomes low-key miserable over it. Give this man a 101 lesson on how to process emotions 😭

-despite the constant anxiety he feels, he low-key enjoys it. It’s kind of hopeless as well as pointless in his honest opinion, but there is this believe, that 0.00001% chance (in his mind) that he could turn his life around and be happy with you, married and maybe have a child of his own one day

-but that’s wishful thinking, riiiiiiight? So what does a self loathing piece of alcoholic man do instead of making a move? Yeah, self pleasure even more than usual, to get at least a bit of serotonin and the willpower to get his shit together, at least for you if it isn’t for him. He’s pretty rough with it too (ouch, unless you’re into that)

-sorry bros but him having a crush is not really all that cute. He’s my cutie pie, but let’s be real: him dealing with those feelings he tried to shut off for so long will be tragic in a way. He’s battling his inner demons here. So yeah… :(

Alex:

-my man, my maaaaan 🥰

-he has earned a soft spot in my heart, bless his soul

-so Alex has a crush on you from the start, it’s basically canon

-can he show his feelings? Yes! Can he do that in a way that can be read as the feelings he tries to get across to you? NO!

-low-key bullying is his love language 🥰

-at least in the beginning. He’s a bit anxious and fears he isn’t good enough for you, so he doesn’t try to be authentic. Being the jock jerk everyone expects him to be gets a reaction out of you and that’s better than nothing, right?

-he’s neither the poetic nor the intellectual type, so he doesn’t process his emotions by writing them down or putting them into words. Just imagine him going about his work-out routine, just thinking about your beautiful smile and rocking bod while sweating like a hog

-Alex and quiet ? Yes that’s possible. I imagine him to go quieter than usual since having a crush on you. He processes everything internally and that takes a lot of time for him as he usually just shrugs off his emotions and doesn’t try to brood too much on them. But now?! He can’t but blush in silence as he just imagines how soft and small your hands must be next to his (yours are way more impressive than his and calloused to the gods, but let him have this moment)

-when it comes to being nasty…Alex is a serial romantic. We know that he probably was the lady’s man back in school so he probably got some action one way or another. In other words, man has the libido of a teen that just hit puberty 💀

-despite being quite horny, he was able to manage to just do it every other day. Now, he cannot even get out of bed in the morning before doing it as you pester his dreams and make his hormones go crazy first thing in the morning…so many nice boxer shorts were lost along the way 🫡

-he also did his own laundry for the first time during that period lmfao

[evansbby]

𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐏𝐎𝐘𝐓 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧-𝐨𝐟𝐟)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alpha!Bucky Barnes x naive omega!Reader, also featuring: dark alpha!Steve Rogers

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Misogyny, a/b/o dynamics, dubcon, dark Steve, poyt!Steve (yes, he is a warning), mentions of smutt, 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s your first day at college and Bucky, a popular alpha, asks for your number. (This is a spin-off of my fic Preying on You Tonight, exploring what would have happened if Bucky had gotten to omega before Steve. You do not need to read that fic to understand this one).

𝐀/𝐍: It’s finally here! As the writer, all I sincerely ask is for you to read it till the end. I put a lot of hard work into this and it’s been a long time coming. I really hope you give this fic a chance, and I hope you enjoy! This is 16.8k words.

It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay. You quietly chant under your breath as you make your way into the intimidatingly large lecture hall. World Politics. It’s a senior class, mostly males, majority alphas. But you’ve managed to get in – the only freshman who was accepted – and it makes your heart flutter with excitement. Maybe they’ll all be impressed, you think to yourself, clutching your bookbag tightly as you make your way inside.

Everyone’s already sat down or milling about in groups. You shoot a few smiles here and there, hoping someone might smile back – but everyone seems busy catching up with their own friends. You sigh – of course, you don’t expect to make friends right away. But you probably will soon.

There’s a pack of intimidating looking guys in the back of the room, they draw your attention because of how loud they’re being as they laugh and joke around. Football players, you think to yourself – they’re all wearing blue jerseys with the university emblem. And they’re all so big and broad. There’s a blond one who seems bigger and scarier than all of them, and there’s also a brunet – also big and intimidating but he looks slightly more laid back than the others.

You snap your head away as soon as he looks in your direction, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re confident you’ll make friends, but it probably won’t be anyone from the resident campus jock group. Not wasting any more time, you make your way to the front of the lecture hall and take a seat in the very first row. Hopefully, someone else would join you and you could strike up a conversation.

You’re arranging your pens in colour order when your phone vibrates.

Peter: Good luck, babe! I know first days can be hard, but you’re gonna smash it! See you tonight!

Smiling softly, you text your boyfriend a quick response before putting your phone away – the lecture is about to start and you don’t want to miss a single word.

A chorus of loud snickers makes you look back over your shoulder. It’s the group of jock alphas – they’re only a couple of rows behind you now, laughing over something while they look in your direction. You suddenly feel self-conscious, looking over your hoodie for any stains, eyes scanning around your vicinity for anything remotely funny.

You’ve just given up and gone back to opening your notebook when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s the brunet alpha, he’s standing next to your desk with a cocky smile on his face.

“Hey, newbie.”

You smile shyly, “Hi.”

“YOU’RE SUCH A DOG, BARNES!” One of the alpha jocks hoots from the back and all the rest of the pack guffaws too, some even making barking sounds. It causes the smile to freeze on your face.

The brunet laughs in his friends’ direction before turning back to you, “Ignore them. You a transfer student or something?”

“No. I’m a freshman. This is my first day.”

“Freshman, huh?” He licks his lips. He’s got nice lips; you think to yourself before inwardly shaking your head in alarm. You have a boyfriend, you remind yourself. But the brunet in front of you also has nice eyes, you can’t help but notice. Light blue and shining, along with scruffy brown hair and a smattering of facial hair. “What’s a little freshman like you doing here? You realise this is a senior class? Are you lost, newbie?”

“No, not lost, I’m meant to be here.” You tell him firmly, “I was interested in this class so I applied for it. I was the only freshman to be accepted.” You hope it doesn’t sound like you’re boasting, you can’t help but feel proud about it.

The brunet nods thoughtfully, “No kidding. You must be very smart.”

You shrug modestly.

“What’s your name, newbie?”

You tell him and he nods, repeating it to himself slowly as if he’s savouring the word.

“I’m James.” He says, “I mean, everyone calls me Bucky but you can call me James.”

You giggle nervously, “Wh-Why do I get to call you that?”

His smile is lop-sided and lazy, and you can’t help but stare. It brightens up his whole face, painting an image of mischief across his features. But he’s not intimidating, not like his friends who continue to hoot and yell behind him. You feel fire on your cheeks because he looks kind of… cute.

Wait. What?

“Pretty girls like you are allowed to call me James.”

The professor chooses that moment to clear his throat as he begins to start up the PowerPoint presentation.

“Well, anyways, newbie. I just came over to say hello. And while I’m here, I was wondering if I could borrow a pen. I forgot mine and you seem to have… a lot.” He gestures to your collection of pens – you have one in just about every colour of the rainbow.

You nod eagerly – you hadn’t expected an alpha jock to be the first one to speak to you at college, but you weren’t complaining.

“Sure! Take your pick,” You say enthusiastically “The blue one doesn’t work too well, but the rest are all good! If you prefer ink pens over ballpoint, I’ve got those too!”

“What about this pink one?”

“Oh,” Your response is less than enthusiastic, “I mean… I always use the pink one. But if you really want it–”

He laughs, reaching out and patting your hand softly. And the touch, despite being seemingly innocuous, sends thrills up and down your spine. You can’t help but think how much bigger his hand is than yours.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You use the pink one. I’ll take this one instead.” He grabs a green pen, and that’s when you get a strong whiff of his scent. Smoky yet dewy – like a cosy fireplace on a winter morning. Fresh like snow mixing with the earth, like cold rain mingling with a special kind of musk.

Bucky seems to notice how you suddenly pause, your nose twitching as you repeatedly inhale his scent. He chuckles softly, waving a hand in front of your face, “Hey, you still there?”

You shake your head, giving yourself a moment to gather yourself before looking up at him, “Yeah, uh. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Because the lecture’s about to start, and you look like someone who doesn’t want to miss a word.” He winks, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send shivers of excitement up and down your spine, “Well, thanks for the pen, newbie.”

And then he goes back to join his friends, leaving you with a lightness in your heart, a spark in your eyes and a smile on your lips. You’d always thought jocks were mean, but Bucky – James – had been nice. Maybe it was a sign, a sign that your first year of university perhaps wouldn’t be as daunting as you originally thought.

You risk a glance back at him. He’s sat a few rows behind you, next to his blond friend. The two couldn’t be more different – with Bucky sitting back, relaxed and laughing, the pen you gave him dangling out of his mouth like a cigarette. The blond sits up straight with rigid posture, and he looks sullen, a touch of a scowl on his face as he looks at Bucky. And then he turns, piercing blue eyes glaring right at you.

You turn back to look in front. That can’t be right. This blond jock doesn’t even know you. Sighing, you begin to take notes, the world of politics taking over as you excitably fill page after page.

You’re immensely satisfied when the class ends – it was everything you wanted it to be and more. With the risk of sounding like a nerd – and you are a nerd, you’ll happily admit it – you’d enjoyed every second of the lecture, soaking in every word like a sponge. If this is what all university classes were going to be like, you’d stay forever.

“You look happy, newbie.” It’s Bucky again; the rest of his group is milling around by the exit, and you can’t deny the thrill you feel at the fact that he hung back with you.

“I am happy, wasn’t that just the most fascinating lecture ever? I mean, I’d heard things about this professor, that he’s so mesmerising to listen to. And it’s true!” You sigh almost dreamily, hugging your fresh notes close to your chest, “I feel like I’ve learnt more in this past hour than I did in the entirety of my high school history class.”

Bucky just stares at you, a smile on his face that reaches all the way up, making the sides of his eyes crinkle.

“What?” You ask consciously when he continues to just… look at you.

“Nothing. You’re just very cute, all bright-eyed and enthusiastic. Not like us jaded seniors.”

“BUCKY, LET’S GO.” As if on cue, the blond alpha bellows across the lecture hall.

Bucky seems wholly unperturbed, even as you jump from the loudness of the blonde’s tone.

“Your friend’s calling you,” You shuffle from one foot to the other, unable to ignore how the blond alpha is glaring at the pair of you all the way from the doorway, “He seems really impatient.”

With a wave of his hand, Bucky dismisses this claim, “Oh, don’t mind Steve. He’s just pissy these days because his girlfriend’s being a bitch.”

Oh. You have no idea what to say to that, so you just continue to pack up your things.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m gonna head over to the library,” You answer excitedly, “I’ve heard it’s really, really big. One of the biggest in the country. I got a glimpse of it during orientation, but I’ve got the rest of the day free so today I’m gonna sit in there and catch up on some reading, and may–”

“Why don’t I walk you there?” The brunet offers. And it’s his quiet confidence that gets to you, the way he’s got this small smile on his face, as if he knows you won’t refuse him, “I have a class in that direction anyways. Steve does too. We could both walk you there.”

You glance once more at Steve, who – believe it or not – is still glaring at you. Or are you imagining it? You’re about to respond when a tall blonde girl in a cheerleading uniform skips up to him. They kiss, and then leave the lecture hall hand-in-hand. You turn back to Bucky, who shrugs.

“Well. Scratch that. I guess it’s just you and me then, newbie. C’mon. I’ll give you a campus tour.”

Talking with Bucky is surprisingly simple. He’s easy-going and laidback, completely cool in the way he makes conversation. Talking about himself but at the same time asking you questions about your life. You’ve always been shy but you find yourself at ease with him, you find yourself laughing at his jokes… You even catch yourself staring at him more than a few times, completely captured by his pretty eyes and lazy smile.

“I’m mostly friends with everyone on the football team, but Steve’s my best friend,” He nods at the blond alpha who’s walking a few paces ahead of you two, hand-in-hand with the cheerleader who you assume is his girlfriend. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And then there’s Sam, but he’s hungover so he didn’t come in today.” Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, “Classic Sam.

The walk to the library is over a little too soon.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the next lecture. Thanks for walking with me.” You say, backing away but not wanting to completely leave just yet.

“Princess, wait.” He grabs your hand, yanking you back till you’re only a few inches away from him. And maybe it’s the shock due to the fact that he called you princess, but you just… let him do it. He grins down at you.

“You’re not gonna leave without giving me your number first, are you?”

You giggle nervously, and you’re surprised that you have to swallow down the words ‘yes, I’ll give you my number’ which are on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you shake your head slowly, “I, uh, I have a boyfriend.”

The alpha blinks, hand freezing midway through running through his hair. But then he relaxes, and that familiar lazy smile returns to his face. “So? Can’t friends save each other’s numbers? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

You feel heat rising up your neck and spreading to your cheeks, “Oh. Of course. I guess we are. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–”

“No worries, princess.” He takes your phone, quickly putting in his number and texting himself from yours before handing it back to you. “Your boyfriend’s a lucky guy, by the way. But I’m sure he won’t mind if I text you tonight, right?”

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer, instead just winking at you before taking off. And you stand outside the steps of the library and watch him for a second. He catches up with Steve and gives him a hard thump on the back before falling into step next to him. Steve still has a scowl on his face but it slowly dissipates, and you watch for a moment as the two alphas talk animatedly. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you earlier, it was clear as day that the they were best friends.

It takes you a while to realise that you’re staring, and you quickly retreat into the library, the magical pull of books and knowledge sucking you in and making you forget about everything else.

***

“I’d say it was a good first day, as far as first days go.” You deduce, walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. You hand it over to Peter, who’s scrolling through Netflix in search of the perfect movie. Which is an impossible task since the two of you had seen practically everything Netflix had to offer – you guys had more movie nights then you did date nights. Actually, you can’t remember the last time you and Peter had gone out on a date. The thought seemed weird… you were much more comfortable sitting on the couch and gorging on popcorn and talking the night away with him – like you were right now.

“That’s good. Did you make any friends?”

You think back to Bucky’s twinkling blue eyes and feel a jolt of electricity run through you. Bucky was your friend, right? He’d said so. But for reasons you don’t quite understand, you only clear your throat and shake your head. “No. I talked to a few people but that’s all. I mean, it’s only day one, right? Nobody makes friends on day one.”

“True.” Peter agrees, his mouth full of popcorn. “Okay, so, I’m thinking it’s a teen dystopian movie kind of night. Hunger Games or Divergent?”

Your brow furrows while you think, “I don’t like Divergent and I’ve seen The Hunger Games way too many times.”

“Okay, how about Catching Fire?”

“The ending of that one makes me sad.”

You bicker back and forth before settling down with Alice in Wonderland, and the popcorn is half finished by the time the beginning credits start rolling. And that’s when your phone vibrates.

James: Hey, princess. You busy?

A smile touches your lips before you cast a quick glance at Peter. He’s half laid down on the other end of the couch with his eyes locked on the screen. You swallow down the guilt – you know Bucky is just your friend but it still feels kind of wrong to be texting him when you’re meant to be watching a movie with Peter. But there’s a large part of you that wants to answer, and it doesn’t take long for that part of you to win the inner conflict inside your head. You quickly text back:

You: Hey! I’m currently watching a movie with my boyfriend.

Your text is truthful, but you hope Bucky doesn’t think you’re dismissing him. His reply is almost instantaneous:

James: Aw, how cute. What movie is it?

You: Alice in Wonderland. Have you seen it?

You mentally kick yourself after you press send. What a dumb question – of course he’s seen it! Who hasn’t seen one of the most recognisable Disney movies of the last decade?

James: I have. I didn’t know you were such a big fan of cartoons, princess.

You feel the ends of your mouth tugging into a smile before you give Peter another glance. He’s polishing off the last of the popcorn, engrossed in Alice as she tumbles down the rabbit hole. You grab the empty bowl and stand up. “I’ll go make some more popcorn.”

Peter nods, “You want me to pause it?”

“No, that’s alright.”

You float into the kitchen and put another bag of popcorn in the microwave before taking a deep breath and looking down at your phone again.

James: Maybe we could watch a movie sometime? I’ve got a flatscreen in my room ;)

You feel a shiver go down your spine when you read his text, and you let yourself imagine it for a split second. Watching a movie with Bucky. In his bedroom. On his bed? You’d never been to a boy’s room before – except Peter, but he’d been your best friend all through high-school. Sure, he was your boyfriend now but you always do the same things you guys did when you were friends – just with added kissing and sometimes touching.

“Babe, you done?” Peter calls for you as if on cue.

Once more awash with guilt, you quickly type out a text:

You: I’m sorry, I should get back to the movie. Good night :)

You switch your phone off for the rest of the night, trying to focus on Alice’s adventures in wonderland, but the thought of Bucky dwindles at the back of your mind as if it’s there to stay.

***

You plan on avoiding Bucky the next day but that proves to be an extremely flimsy plan. You’re sitting in the front row when him and Steve and another guy – you assume it’s Sam – walk in. You get a pleasant whiff of Bucky’s scent before it’s overpowered by something stronger – the smell of firewood and a hot summer day. They walk by you, with Bucky giving you a small smile and a wink and Steve sucking in a breath, his nostrils twitching as he walks past you. Strange. What was his problem?

You still feel guilty about the previous night. Peter was your first ever relationship so you might not be the biggest expert on these types of things, but you’re sure that getting giddy over another guy texting you is not good girlfriend behaviour. You need to put a swift stop to it, starting now. You spend the rest of the lecture taking notes diligently, stuffing the thought of Bucky to the back of your mind.

When the class ends, you try to scurry away to the library. But you don’t get too far down the corridor before a hand encloses around your wrist and tugs you back.

“Princess, wait up. Where are you hurrying off to?”

“I – uh – I need to go to the library to print something.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay.”

He looks at you for a handful of seconds before sighing and taking a step back, “This is about last night, isn’t it? My texts scared you off?”

You bite your lip, “James, I have a boyfriend.”

“I know, I know.” He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, shifting from one foot to the other before those icy blue eyes settle on you again. “I’ll be honest, princess. You’re so pretty, I thought I’d shoot my shot anyways.”

Your jaw drops, “B-But I have a boyfriend.”

He shrugs, looking virile and handsome with his facial hair and lazy smile, “That’s never stopped me before. I mean, it’s not really a big thing with me and my friends. If we want a girl, we go after her, boyfriend or not, it doesn’t matter to us.”

“Oh.” You don’t know whether to stay or just leave, and you’re debating over just that when Bucky pipes up again.

“Look, princess. I like you. And I have a hunch that you like me too. And as I said before, I usually don’t care if the girl I like has a boyfriend. But you’re different, I want to do right by you.” He strokes the palm of your hand with his thumb and it’s like you’re mesmerised by the feeling. “I’d really like to take you out sometime. But I can give you time to break up with your boyfriend first.”

You gasp, pulling your hand out of his grasp, “James Barnes! That’s so wrong. You know how awful of a person that would make me? And I barely know you!”

“Just think about it. I really like you.” He says earnestly, blue eyes sparkling and locking with yours as he grabs your hand again, “And breaking up with him will spare this guy the embarrassment of being with a girl who’s no longer into him.”

Your jaw drops open at his audacity, “That’s not true–!”

“Bucky, we have practice.”

Steve rounds the corner, stopping short when he sees the two of you so close, his eyes narrowing as they zero in on your intertwined hands.

“Gimme a sec.” Bucky answers, not even sparing Steve a glance, eyes unblinking as they stare at you meaningfully.

For the second time, you snatch your hand out of his grip. “I-I – uh – I have to go!” You do the easiest thing you can think of, backing away and getting the hell out of there. Bucky’s just dropped a huge bomb on you and Steve’s intimidating as hell, so you deem it best to put some distance between you and the two alphas as you speed-walk away from the situation.

“Why are you talking to that trashy omega?” You hear Steve mutter as you turn your back on them, and the hurtful words make your heart jolt.

“Hey, don’t call her that.” Bucky answers, and that’s the last thing you hear before you round the corner and escape into the comforting clutches of the campus library.

***

So, Bucky liked you. He liked you. As in, he wanted to take you out on a date. This information has you feeling giddier than it should. You’ve never known anyone to like you like that (except Peter) and never so brazenly. You can’t help but feel all light inside. A popular, handsome senior liked you!

But then, the flowy lightness inside you is overtaken by wracks of guilt, showering down on your heart like hard, jagged rocks. You’re with Peter. You like Peter. You can’t get happy over Bucky liking you when you’re with Peter. That’s just a fact.

You lay low for a couple of weeks, avoiding Bucky like he’s the plague. But you know his eyes are on you, glued to the back of your head during every lecture, when you keep your face pointedly facing forward and never look back at him. You can’t. You’re in a relationship. You have to respect it.

But then, things take a different turn than you ever expected them to.

Peter scores an internship at Stark Industries, which means he has to move to New York immediately. And you’re so happy for him, it’s what he’s been working towards and dreaming of for as long as you’ve known him. His goal of tackling the tech world is similar to your own goal of being the first person in your family to earn a university degree. You’re thrilled for him. But sitting on his bed and wistfully watching him pack, it’s like you both know what this means.

The break-up is mutual. Peter says that he’ll be busy with work, and you agree that you’ll be busy with college assignments too. And after one last movie night and a tearful goodbye, you both agree to try to remain best friends. He promises to come see you when he’s got a free moment, and you tell him you’ll travel up to New York once you’ve saved enough money to be able to afford it.

And then he’s gone. Off chasing his dreams and you couldn’t be happier for him.

But now you’re single. And what does that mean for you?

***

Bucky approaches you after spring break, sporting a healthy tan and messier hair. You’d overheard him and his friends talking earlier, so you knew they’d all flown to Cancun for the past week. Lucky them. You’d spent the break studying in your room, making notes for the next set of lectures to make sure you were well-prepared for them.

“Hello, princess. You’re looking extra beautiful today.”

You look down at your old hoodie and ratty leggings and wonder if he’s joking with you. “Uh, thanks?”

“I’m serious. You’re glowing, which can only mean one thing. You broke up with him, didn’t you?” Bucky leans down over your table, giving you a strong whiff of his wintery scent. It’s like freshly powdered snow and warm fire logs, enveloping around you like a welcome hug after your lonely spring break.

You purse your lips together, focusing on your notes except the lecture hasn’t started yet so you have nothing to write down except the date. But you’re determined not to look at him, “Actually, it was mutual.”

Bucky’s grin only gets wider, and to your surprise, he plops down on the empty seat next to you. Your eyes widen, “Wh-What are you doing?”

“What? I can’t sit next to you? Is this seat taken?”

Well, of course it wasn’t. You usually sat alone. Nobody really spoke to you apart from Bucky, but that was okay. It’s not like anyone was ever horrible to you either. Except Steve with that one comment that he’d made the other day. But you must have overheard him wrong.

“So, what did you do over spring break?” He asks.

You shrug, “I read up on the next few chapters on our syllabus.”

Bucky nods, “A quiet week, huh? Well, I wish I’d stayed back too.” He chuckles when he sees your raised eyebrow, “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Cancun’s beautiful, but it gets tiresome after a while. All Steve and Sam ever did was hook up with different girls. Constantly. Me? I just didn’t feel like doing that this time around.”

You frown, casting a short glance at Steve, except you quickly look away because he happens to be staring right back at you. But why was Steve hooking up with other girls? Didn’t he have a girlfriend? You mull over it for a second before you register the other thing Bucky had said. “Y-You didn’t feel like hooking up with anyone?”

The brunet clasps his hand over yours and shoots you a sparkling smile, “Why would I? When my girl wasn’t there with me?”

Bucky takes you out the following weekend. And you don’t know why you agree, when it’s so soon after your breakup with Peter. But when he asks you out, it just feels right, and the word “yes” is flying out of your mouth before you have the chance to think about it. Peter’s probably seeing other people too, you think to yourself. And the thought doesn’t bother you at all, because why shouldn’t Peter have his fun? He was single. And so were you.

Bucky presents you with a bouquet of pink tulips at the start of your date, and sits on your bed with an amused expression on his face while you quickly tend to them. Trimming the stems and finding a vase before setting them on your windowsill. “You look beautiful, princess.” He comments, making your cheeks feel like they’re on fire before he grabs your hand and takes you out.

The diner he takes you to is casual and pretty, only a few minutes outside of campus. The evening sunlight spills down through the window while Bucky brazenly holds your hands in his over the table – even when the waitress is taking your order! It makes you squirm, but in a pleasant kind of way. And he tells you about himself while you eat, how he knows he’s from a privileged family but always felt different growing up.

He tells you about all the mischief he and Steve got up to when they were kids, and then teens, and now young adults. And you can’t really imagine Steve, all stoic and mean and preppy-looking, getting up to any kind of mischief but you smile and nod anyways, loving how Bucky tells his stories in such an easy-going and charming way.

You’re a bit more guarded when he asks you about your childhood, though. You keep it brief and simple, outright evading certain details because you don’t want to get into it right now. But Bucky seems to understand, squeezing your hands before grabbing a napkin and wiping a spot of sauce on the side of your mouth.

He takes you to a nearby park after that. He buys a small loaf of bread so the two of you can feed the ducks. And he never lets go of your hand, and you can feel him watching you as you focus on the ducks gobbling up the pieces of bread. And then he grabs your chin and gently turns your face to him and he kisses you. And it’s sweet. Sweeter than it is with Peter. And you kiss him back, because you like how light and fluffy and exciting it feels to kiss Bucky.

It feels like you’re on cloud nine.

The dates get more frequent after that. Bucky walks you to class every day, holding your hand and talking to you about anything and everything. Like the latest report your class has been assigned, or his football team winning another game, or any new books you’ve read. You find yourself giggling and opening up a lot more, every shy bone in your body relaxing when you’re talking to him.

The kissing and touching becomes more frequent too. Often, he comes to your dorm room and things get hot and heavy. And oh, it’s so exciting feeling Bucky’s hands on you, and his expert kisses leave you breathless! He really was an incredible kisser, taking control and moving his tongue so lazily and perfectly against yours. But something within you always stops him before he can go any further.

“Bucky, please. I just got out of a relationship and I don’t know if I’m ready for sex.” You tell him truthfully one evening while he’s got you pinned down on your bed in the middle of a particularly passionate make-out session.

Bucky lies back down beside you while you fix the buttons of your cardigan which he’d almost had undone. He reaches down to adjust his boner through his jeans, “Princess, you’re killing me here. I want you so bad.”

You swallow, “I’m sorry, James. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

Light blue eyes smile down at you as the alpha sits up and grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t apologise, princess. I understand.”

“I just feel bad, I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on.” You duck your head, but he grabs your chin and lifts it up again, making you look at him.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ve gone out this long with a girl without sleeping with her.” Bucky confesses, scratching his head with a sheepish look on his face. “I haven’t been a great boyfriend in the past, and my motives have usually been selfish.”

Your eyes grow wide, but you don’t say anything.

“I’m telling you this because I care about you, princess. I think you’re different.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and chucks you under your chin till you smile. “I like talking to you and spending time with you. You’re smart and beautiful and I know we haven’t been together long, but I really see a future for us.” He kisses you sweetly, and you’re too busy trying to tame the butterflies in your stomach to respond properly, but you try your best anyways.

“What I’m saying is, you can take all the time you need till you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll wait as long as I have to till you’re ready to have sex.” Bucky finishes earnestly, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and plant a million kisses on his face. He’s saying all the right things, everything a girl wants to hear from her boyfriend.

“You really mean all that?” You ask him softly.

“Yes, princess, I mean it. You’re my girlfriend, and I’ll wait for you for as long as you need.” Bucky looks earnest and sweet, and you hug him hard. You feel a mix of thrill and nervous energy flutter through you. It’s something you’ve never felt before. But it’s a good feeling, and you welcome it with open arms as Bucky continues to leave tiny kisses all over your face. Till you’re giggling against his lips and hugging him close, feeling lighter than a feather.

***

Being the girlfriend of a popular senior was not something you’d envisioned happening to you at the start of university. But Bucky made it feel so natural, introducing you to all his friends, holding your hand all the time and including you in all his plans. His friends are nice enough: Sam was a bit cold at first but he warmed up after a while. Thor was loud and funny, Ransom acted overly smart and confident but seemed to have a sensitive side too. Curtis was mysterious and Andy was kind of dopey, and they were all friendly with you.

But then there was Steve.

The blonde alpha glowered at you any chance he got. Whenever you were in his presence, you could feel his steely blue eyes boring holes straight through your skin. You always kept out of his way so you were unsure why he seemed to hate you. Bucky just said not to take it personally, that Steve was just going through a rough patch with his girlfriend and he didn’t hate you at all.

One day, you’d gone over to Bucky’s house where he – unfortunately – lived with Steve and Sam too.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve had demanded when he’d opened the door and seen you standing there.

“Uh… James to-told me to meet him here after my morning classes.” You explain, feeling oddly nervous around the big alpha. You’re naturally shy but you’d come out of your shell quite a bit ever since you’d started dating Bucky. But Steve was just so intimidating, standing there in just a pair of grey sweats that are slung low over his hips. You avert your gaze to the ground in a bid not to stare at his bare chest.

Steve regards you suspiciously before stepping aside and letting you in. And you feel his heated gaze still on you as you brush past him to get inside. And that’s when you hear him inhale sharply, a low rumble coming from his chest before he stumbles. You whip around just in time to see him recover, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Steve scoffs, “Why the hell wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Uh… You kinda just tripped?” You point out hesitantly, and the blonde alpha’s pale face goes crimson before he clears his throat.

“I did not trip.” He glowers through gritted teeth.

Okay then. You decide not to question his rude and erratic behaviour. “Where is James’ room?”

Steve glances upstairs before leaning against the kitchen counter, his intense gaze locking on you as his frown relaxes into a smirk. “He’s taking a shower right now. You should wait for him down here.”

“Okay.” You sit down at the kitchen table. The house is big, spacious and minimalistic in the way it’s decorated. The kitchen is modern and it’s clear that there’s only boys living here, because you can see a ton of takeout containers and microwave meals strewn across the countertops.  Once you’re done observing your surroundings, you notice Steve still staring at you.

“So, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend now, huh?” He breaks the silence.

“Yes.”

“Strange. I never thought he’d go for someone like you.”

Your brows knit together into a frown as a pang of hurt echoes inside you, “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, and you try not to focus on his broad, muscular shoulders. But it’s not easy to just look at his face either, because he’s so intimidating. He runs a hand through his light hair, “Nothing, omega. Don’t worry your little head over it.

Your jaw drops open, “Don’t call me that, please. I have a name.”

“As if I care.”

God! It was like talking to an eight-year-old. You had no idea that Steve was this immature and rude, and it makes your blood boil. You’re just about to get up and find Bucky’s bedroom yourself when you hear a pattering of light footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Steve, I have to go. But promise you’ll text me tonight?” It’s a girl. You recognise her from college – you’ve definitely seen her around campus somewhere. But she’s definitely not Sharon. She skips up to Steve and plants a kiss on his cheek, and the alpha only responds with a grunt. You get a weird feeling inside you as you watch this exchange, but try your best to shake it off.

The girl stops to shoot you a smile. “Hey, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend, aren’t you? Nice to meet you!”

She leaves before you have a chance to reply, and you’re left staring at the back of her head as she shuts the door behind her, getting an eyeful of her hair which you vaguely notice is the same shade as yours. And it’s only when she’s gone that you realise your mouth is open in shock, and you slowly turn to Steve who looks wholly unbothered.

“Aren’t you going out with Sharon?” You can’t help but blurt out.

Steve raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as he continues to just stare at you. You feel hot all over, and you don’t know whether it’s because of his eyes on you or because of the sudden anger you feel at the blatant display of cheating you’ve just witnessed.

“That’s not fair on your girlfriend, Steve.” You whisper.

And all Steve does is stare at you, to the point where you feel waves of heat on your face. And then suddenly you’re hit with this overwhelming scent of burning firewood. A freshly mown lawn with a strong sun beating down on it, and smoky wood on a hot summer’s day. Your eyes widen as the intimidating alpha walks over to you, leaning down at the table where you’re sitting.

“I don’t remember asking for some lowlife omega’s opinion on my private business.” He says softly, but there’s danger and threat embedded in his words and it makes your blood run cold. But your nose can’t stop twitching as it takes in his heady scent, and you feel your mind cloud over and your limbs grow weak like jelly and–

“I’d appreciate it if you’d put a shirt on in front of my girlfriend, Stevie.” Bucky chuckles, elbowing past Steve and making his way over to you. He helps you up and plants a firm kiss to your lips. You’re still rattled by the blonde alpha, though, and distractedly kiss your boyfriend back. You can still feel Steve’s eyes on you, and it’s unnerving to say the least.

“You ready to go, princess?” Bucky tugs at your hand and you nod, allowing him to pull you out of the house. It’s only when the fresh outside air whips against your face that you seem to snap out of whatever trance you’re in. You swallow and shake your head as Bucky leads you to his car, and you only speak once both of you are inside.

“Steve did something awful.” You breathe.

Bucky frowns before squeezing your arm, “What? Did he touch you?”

“N-No, he…” You shake your head, feeling a wave of anger overtake you momentarily, “He had a girl over, James. He was cheating on his girlfriend!”

“Oh.”

The silence is louder than ever as Bucky starts up the car and backs out of the driveway. He puts his arm over the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, and it’s not until he’s on the main road that you huff:

“Is that all you have to say?”

Bucky grimaces, keeping his eyes glued to the road, “Look, Steve isn’t exactly in love with Sharon.”

“But she’s his girlfriend, Bucky. He shouldn’t be cheating on her either way!”

“I know, I know. What can I say?” He pauses, as if mulling over how to say his next words. “Look, princess. Steve’s young, he’s only in college. It’s what us guys do. Why have one piece of the pie when you can have the whole thing, you know? That sort of thing.”

It only takes Bucky about three seconds to realise the error in his words. You turn to stare at him in utter shock and horror. Was this really James? Your James? Who had said all the right things and been so sweet and gentlemanly all these weeks? Who had respected your boundaries and never questioned you or lashed out for wanting to wait?

“Is that why you’re so okay with us not having sex?” You say quietly. “Because you’re getting it from somewhere else?”

“What? No, sweetheart. No, that’s not it at all.”

Bucky turns into a random lane and stops the car before turning to you. You try to bat him off but he grabs both your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing kisses on your fingers and palms before yanking you into an embrace.

“I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say.” He mumbles into your hair, and you try to find solace in his scent but it’s not strong enough right now. He kisses the top of your head before drawing back to make eye contact. “Princess, I’m not seeing anyone else behind your back, that I can promise you.”

“But how can I believe you? When it was so easy for you to justify what Steve’s doing?” You sniffle.

Bucky sits back in his seat and sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Look, it’s no secret that us alphas are all a bunch of assholes. We don’t really hide it, either. Steve’s cheating on his girl because, well, it’s almost normal for a lot of us to do that. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t slept with multiple girls without them knowing about each other in the past.”

You bow your head, not liking this at all. But Bucky grabs your chin gently, lifting it up so you look at him.

“But I’m past all of that now, okay? I really like being in a serious and committed relationship with you, princess. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl, and I would never even think of being with anyone else.” He cups your face and strokes your cheek, and his eyes are so pretty and blue, and you can feel your heart melting already as he gives you a peck. “I guess I just wasn’t surprised by what Steve did because I’m so used to it.”

You nuzzle your face into his palm, “Can’t you tell him that it’s wrong? That you’ve grown out of doing stuff like that, and that he should too?”

Bucky chuckles, pressing your cheeks and nose with more soft kisses, “I could. But Steve is extremely stubborn and bossy, in case you haven’t noticed.” He pauses, smiling fondly at you when you giggle softly in agreement, twining a piece of your hair around his finger. “The way I see it, we should just focus on our relationship, and let Steve do whatever it is he’s doing since it’s got nothing to do with us. It took meeting the right girl for me to recognise the error of my ways. Maybe soon, he’ll find someone that he’ll want to be better for too, right?”

You nod, despite that weird feeling surfacing inside you once more. But you shove it back down and give Bucky a smile as he pulls you in for another long kiss.

“Well, let’s get to that movie, shall we? We’ve probably missed the opening credits and I’m gonna have to cut the line to get us our snacks, but I think we can still make it.”

You spend the rest of the evening at the drive-in movie theatre with Bucky. He reclines his seat and makes you climb over the console to sit in his lap while the two of you watch Gone with the Wind on the big screen with a bag of sweet and salty popcorn and a bar of chocolate to share. Once the snacks finish, you sleepily rest your head on his chest and let him stroke your back through your hoodie. And you almost fall asleep like that, Scarlett O’Hara’s indignant dialogues lulling you into a peaceful slumber until your nostrils are unceremoniously invaded with the scent of burning firewood and a hot summer’s day.

Opening your eyes slowly, you peak out the window to see another car pull up beside Bucky’s. And your heart sinks down to the depths of your chest when you see who’s inside. Steve. And Sharon. She’s talking to him animatedly, but he seems sullen and unresponsive as always. That is, until they start making out, and you have to forcibly look away when Steve’s eyes meet yours and you feel this burning feeling in your chest.

You swallow harshly before cuddling up to Bucky even more.

“James, I’m sleepy,” you say softly.

“Yeah? You wanna go home, princess?”

“Yes, please. If that’s okay?”

“Sure, princess.” He lifts you up and places you back on the passenger seat before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Close your eyes and rest. I’ll tuck you into bed once we get back to your dorm.”

And he does just that, carrying you all the way back into your dorm room and helping you change before putting you to bed. And you can’t describe whatever it is you’re feeling but all you can do is clutch at his shirt when he goes to leave, pulling him into bed with you. And he rains your face with a billion kisses before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

***

Life at college continues. You’re still in contact with Peter, despite the two of you being so busy. But he sends you updates about his internship and all the cool technology he’s being exposed to. You tell him about your classes and all the interesting things you’re learning. You also, very tentatively, tell him about Bucky. Surprisingly, Peter seems supportive, and the conversation between the two of you grows easy once more.

The romance between you and Bucky seems to blossom with every passing day. He carries your books to class and takes you out on cute dates that make your heart flutter. Picnics, scenic walks, movies, restaurants – he takes you everywhere you’ve ever dreamed of being taken. And how your heart had skipped a beat when you’d seen he’d had a bouquet of yellow roses delivered to your dorm room! There was no note or tag attached, but you knew they were from Bucky. Who else could they be from? And they were the prettiest flowers you’d ever received, and the butterflies in your tummy fluttered at his perfect choice.

It was also in the little things he did, like kiss you on the forehead reassuringly or squeeze your hand when you’re feeling nervous. And slowly, you feel yourself coming out of your shell more and more. You find yourself laughing out loud and voicing your opinions that usually you would’ve kept silent.

Being Bucky’s girlfriend meant hanging out with his group of friends, too. And it thrills you that you’re able to hold conversations with some of them, and have them be genuinely interested in what you have to say and not just write you off as a “dumb omega”.

One day, you find yourself sitting on Bucky’s lap in the campus courtyard between classes, a number of his friends surrounding you. You still feel nervous around this many people (especially intimidating seniors) but with Bucky squeezing your hand reassuringly, you find the task less daunting than you normally would, as you grow to feel more comfortable with them.

Well, most of them.

“…and then I told her to fuck off, because who knows what kind of diseases she was carrying. I mean, she’s fucked half the football team after all.” Steve says cockily, taking a drag from his cigarette while the alphas around him all laugh as if he’s cracked the funniest joke of the century. Even Bucky chuckles before you shoot him a look and he stops, a sheepish look on his face.

“I mean sure, she’s got a great ass, but there’s nothing attractive about a slut who spreads her legs for any man who looks her way.” The blond alpha continues, and it irritates you how all his friends seem to hang on to his every word, looking up to him like he’s some sort of God.

Having been with Bucky long enough, you had somewhat cracked the hierarchy of his friend group. And Steve was definitely the leader, the one they all flocked to and tried to impress. Well, not Bucky – he and Sam were the only ones who would keep Steve in check. But the blonde alpha’s ego was through the roof, as were his misogynistic ideals and derogatory views towards omegas and women in general.

And you hated how shy you were, especially around him. You felt sickened by Steve’s gross statements but you could never say anything against him. A part of you just wanted to be liked and accepted by Bucky’s best friend, but Steve only alternated between glaring at you or pretending you didn’t exist.

“HI, BABY!”

A high-pitched squeal knocks you out of your reverie, and you watch as Sharon jogs up to Steve in her pretty blue cheerleading outfit. Together, they look like the perfect couple. Head cheerleader and the captain of the football team. Perfect. You feel that weird feeling bubbling up inside you again but do your best to keep it at bay.

Steve rolls his eyes before Sharon launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his. Steve, however, remains stoic.

“Gosh, baby, could you please put that cigarette out?” Sharon says, pushing a wayward lock of Steve’s blonde hair off his forehead.

“No.”

She giggles, shaking her head before turning to you. “Men, huh? Stubborn as ever. I’ve asked him to stop smoking about a bajillion times, but he never listens.”

You smile and nod, feeling stupid and awkward as ever because Sharon is pretty and popular and you don’t know how to act.

“I like your pin.” Sharon points at the World Politics Society pin on your bookbag, “I couldn’t even dream of getting into that class. You must be really smart.”

Steve snorts but everyone ignores him.

“Thank you, I find the subject really interesting,” you reply.

You watch Sharon as she talks to everyone in the group. She’s kind, confident and beautiful – everything you wish you were. But that weird, indescribable feeling keeps surfacing inside you every time she locks hands with Steve, or brushes his hair back, or smooths the wrinkles on his sweater.

“And Mister Barnes, how come I’ve never met your girlfriend before now? When she’s practically my sister-in-law?” Sharon hits Bucky lightly on the arm before shooting you another bright smile. “We should organise a double-date. Me and Steve and you both. That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Steve scoffs but everyone ignores him.

“Epically fun, Miss Carter.” Bucky gives her a charming smile before tugging you close to his chest. “We could go bowling or something. If His Highness is up for it.”

Steve takes another drag of his cigarette, saying nothing. In fact, he’s barely said a word since his girlfriend joined the conversation, and you find that to be weirdly peculiar. Why was he even with her if all he did was cheat on her and ignore her every time she spoke?

“Looking forward to it!” Sharon smiles before checking her phone, “Okay, I gotta go now or else I’ll be late for practice. I’ll see you tonight, baby?” She gives Steve a peck on the lips, which he also doesn’t return.

“Sure.” Steve answers, finally seeming to snap out of it as his hand meanders down to squeeze her ass. You feel your own hand clench into a fist but you quickly relax it and hope no one saw. What the heck was that? Why had you reacted that way?

“What a fuckin’ bitch.” Steve resumes once Sharon is out of earshot. “As I was saying, I told this other whore who was all over me the other day that I just wasn’t interested in sluts like her, and she said–”

“Could you stop being such a misogynistic jerk?!”

You can’t believe the words have left your mouth, and your hands start shaking immediately once you realise they have. Never before have you raised your voice at someone like this, let alone a formidable alpha who’s about twice your size.

Steve’s cold blue eyes rest their steely gaze on you, when up until this point he’d been content on pretending you weren’t there. You dare peak up at him and see his jaw tick, and a vein protrude from the side of his forehead.

“What did you just say to me?” He asks softly.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Bucky says warningly, but you sit up straight.

“I’m… I’m sorry, but I just don’t like how you talk about women.” You say, hating how your voice shakes and how you can’t look Steve in the eye.

“And I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me right now.” Steve’s intense gaze bores holes straight through you before he looks at Bucky, “Haven’t you taught her not to speak to her superiors like that?”

Your jaw drops open in pure shock, “H-How dare you–”

“Okay, let’s go.” Bucky hoists you to your feet while your whole body seems to shake with shock, anger, and a tiny bit of fear. The brunet alpha holds you tightly by the arm before evenly glancing back at his best friend. “Steve, don’t speak to my girl like that. In fact, if you’re going to be rude, then don’t speak to her at all.”

You and Bucky don’t stick around to hear Steve’s retort, and it’s only when you round a corner and are hidden from the rest of the group by a brick wall, that you burst into tears.

“He’s – so – awful!” You cry, your heart pitter-pattering in a mix of fear and hurt. You hated being spoken to like that, like you were beneath him. Bucky holds you close and you sob into his chest, hugging him as hard as you can. His solidness and wintery scent is a source of comfort to you, and so is his hand which rubs your back soothingly.

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, princess. I’ll make sure to speak to him about it later.” Bucky promises you, pressing soft kisses to your hairline while you cry, leaving splotchy tear-stains on his shirt.

“Why is he even with Sharon when he doesn’t seem happy with her at all?!” You burst out, desperately wiping at your teary eyes except it doesn’t stop you from crying even more. “He’s just…I just… Oh, I hate him, James! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’ll talk to him, don’t you worry.”

Looking into his earnest eyes, you can tell Bucky’s intentions are good. And you don’t know if he talks to Steve or not, but you do receive another delivery of yellow roses to your dorm room that very night. This time, there’s a note attached too. “I’m sorry” is all it says, and you can’t help but smile as you hold the roses up to your nose and take in their delicate scent. Bucky was obviously feeling bad about the whole situation – and it wasn’t even his fault!

But clearly, your boyfriend knows you well, because the flowers do lift your mood up a little bit. You place the second bouquet of yellow roses caringly next to the first one. They look expensive and beautiful, and have your entire room smelling heavenly and sweet. It makes you smile and clasp your hands together, and you’re just about to call Bucky when you hear a rustling from outside your window, followed by a series of heavy footsteps.

Strange. Who would be out at this time? And in the bushes outside your dorm room, no less? You decide you’ve probably imagined it, but you close your window and draw your curtains anyways before calling Bucky.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You tell him, a huge smile plastered on your face as you take one last whiff of the roses before flopping down on your bed on top of all your pillows and stuffies.

“I do know that, sweetheart, but it’s nice to hear you say it.” Bucky laughs from the other end of the phone. “It’s also nice to hear you sound so happy.”

You grab your stuffed rabbit and tug his ears mindlessly, “Yeah, I know I acted like a huge cry-baby earlier today.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it, princess? Anyways, I spoke to Steve.”

Your heart skips a beat, “You did?”

“Yes. Look, he’s set in his traditional ways and he’s stubborn as hell. But he did look like he regretted speaking to you that way, and I don’t think he’ll do it again.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Well, that’s all I want. Thank you for speaking to him, James.” There’s a pause, and then you pipe up hesitantly: “And what about Sharon? Is he still going to stay with her?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t he?”

BECAUSE SHE’S NOT RIGHT FOR HIM! The omega inside you screeches, and the sheer vitriol you feel makes you sit up straight, eyes wide and hands shaking. What the heck? Where had that outburst even come from?

“Hello? Princess? You still with me?”

You clear your throat and physically shake your head to rid yourself of that weird feeling that seems to be bubbling inside you so often now. But never before had it manifested into your inner thoughts screaming at you like how they just had. You feel hot all over, and quickly place your palm on your forehead to check if you have a fever before remembering Bucky is still on the phone.

“I’m here. Sorry, I just…” What can you even say to him? Without sounding crazy? You take a deep breath. “Thank you for talking to him, James. I’m just glad he won’t be mean anymore. Everything else isn’t really any of my business.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.”

***

True to Bucky’s word, slowly but surely, Steve becomes a lot more bearable to be around. He’s still awful in his misogyny but at least he no longer glares at you or makes you feel unwelcome and uncomfortable when you’re with Bucky and his friends. You still catch him staring at you sometimes, but you must be imagining it because you know he hates you. You try not to care though, and only focus on Bucky.

“I want you to meet my parents, princess.” Bucky says to you one day. The two of you are in your dorm room where you’d just completed an intense study session. Well, you’d been studying while Bucky grew distracted after about ten seconds of staring at his textbook, and proceeded to kiss and touch you while you laughed and batted him off. “And I would like to meet your parents too.”

The smile drops from your face almost instantaneously, and you nervously grab your stuffed rabbit and pull its ears. “Oh, I… Uh…”

“I mean, we’ve been seriously dating for a while now, haven’t we? It’s only right that I get to meet the parents of the girl who captured my heart.”

You smile uneasily, heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “What are your parents like?” You blurt out, trying to deflect.

Bucky lies back on your bed, “They’re great. My dad’s a lawyer so he’s always working. My mom is usually at home, though. She makes a great apple pie and she’s also great for when I need advice.”

You smile softly, “She must really love you.”

He blinks. “Of course, she does. All parents love their children.”

He goes on to tell you about how his dad used to take him golfing at the country club when he was younger, and how much he hated it. But he’d always get treated to ice cream afterwards, which was why he agreed to go every time. He tells you about how his mother values family over everything, which was why he went home every other Friday to have dinner with his family, and how he’d love for you to join him on one of those dinners soon.

You nod and agree, but you feel like crying on the inside. There’s a sense of yearning inside you that you can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you cuddle into Bucky or how much he kisses you.

His hands slowly slip down to your hips, squeezing gently before meandering up under your hoodie. His touch is tentative yet confident, and usually it excites you. But you always stop him before he goes too far, hoping and praying he doesn’t get mad at you. Which he never does. Instead, the two of you lazily make out on your bed until you fall asleep in each other’s arms. And then the nightmares commence, but when you wake up, you can’t remember them at all.

***

“Ooh, look at the pink bowling balls! And the powder blue ones. Aren’t they cute, Steve?” Sharon clutches Steve’s muscular bicep, her perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly against his pale skin. Steve only grunts in response before shaking her off as him and Bucky go up to the counter to pay for one session of bowling for all of you.

Through Sharon’s pure will and determination, the four of you find yourselves on a double date at the bowling alley. She seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that Steve hated you, or that you didn’t particularly like Steve either, and had practically begged Bucky to organise the date. Bucky had said you didn’t have to do it, but what harm could one night of bowling actually do? Especially since Steve hadn’t really been mean to you for a while now.

“Do I seriously have to wear these ugly bowling shoes?” Sharon complains, gingerly holding up the dirty shoes and making a face.

“Don’t wear them. Let’s see what happens.” Steve pipes up.

Bucky laughs, “Unless you want a broken toe, you better put them on.”

It’s Steve and Sharon against you and Bucky. You’ve bowled a few times, so you’re not embarrassingly bad or anything. Bucky is fairly good too. Surprisingly, Sharon turns out to be extremely skilled at bowling, getting a strike on her first try.

And then there’s Steve.

“Another gutter ball, Rogers!” Bucky doubles over in glee, practically in tears. You try to hide your amused smile and even Sharon can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up!” Steve seethes, looking redder than a tomato as he jams his hands in his pockets and walks back to the bench you’re all sitting on. He casts a quick glance in your direction, his nose twitching. “There’s too many distractions here.”

“What distractions, bro? You’re just a bad player.” Bucky mocks, jabbing his elbow into his friend’s ribs and laughing even harder when the blond gives him an absolutely murderous look.

Bucky gets up and stretches, “I think I need a beer. You want one, Steve?”

Steve flips him off.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You girls want anything?”

“Maybe a strawberry milkshake? Or iced tea sounds good. And I think we should also get some food for Steve before he implodes. Maybe nachos? Or curly fries. I’ll go with you, since that’s a lot to remember.” Sharon gets up.

Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, “Think you can hold down fort and keep us in the lead until I get back, princess?” He whispers.

You giggle, “I think so. I just need to get a minimum of one pin.”

They leave, and you get up to do your turn. Making your way over to the contraption where they keep all the bowling balls, you can feel Steve’s eyes on you. God, without Bucky and Sharon here, you felt all shy and nervous. Not to mention his scent, which was so overpowering as it settled into your nostrils. Just ignore him, you think to yourself before absentmindedly selecting a bowling ball.

You’ve taken one step towards the bowling lane when the ball slips from your sweaty palms. It’s a lot heavier than you anticipated, and you can’t take the weight as you watch it fall down almost in slow motion. There’s a flurry of movement, Steve moving quick as lightning and batting the ball sideways before it completely crushes your foot. It ends up bouncing on the tip of your toe with a loud thud before rolling away under the table.

“What the fuck inspired you to choose the heaviest ball available? You could have really hurt yourself!” Steve shakes you angrily by the shoulder as you remain frozen in place, still registering what just happened.

“I…I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You stammer before suddenly becoming aware of your toe throbbing from where the bowling ball had fallen. Most of its weight had been absorbed by your shoe, but your toe still hurts. And you hate being such a baby, but your lower lip can’t help but quiver, and you feel your eyes well up with tears.

You don’t really register it as Steve’s fingers encircle around your wrist, and he tugs you back to the bench, forcing you down before crouching in front of you.

“Did you hurt yourself? See, this is why little omegas like you shouldn’t be carrying heavy things. I told Bucky bowling was a bad idea.” At the mention of his best friend’s name, Steve instinctively whips his head towards the snack counter, and you do too. Bucky and Sharon are still in line, and with their backs turned and so many people around, you doubt they can see you.

You sniffle, “I didn’t think it would be that heavy.”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’re just a baby omega, and sometimes you don’t think about things like that. Here, let me see.” Before you realise what’s happening, he grabs your ankle with one big, warm hand; and uses the other to unstrap your shoe. You gape at him, the scent of smoky firewood and a freshly mown lawn making you swallow harshly and freeze in place, letting him slip your shoe off.

But it only a takes handful of seconds for you to come back to your senses, and you shake your head and cringe backwards.

“Uh, th-that’s okay, Steve. It stopped hurting now, I think I’ll be fine.”

But his grip on your ankle doesn’t loosen, your shoe falling to the ground and his blue eyes zeroing in on your foot which is covered by just your lacy white ankle sock. The air feels thick around you both, and you feel your breathing start to get laboured as you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

Slowly, tentatively almost, he strokes your foot with his other hand. And a part of you is so acutely aware of how weird this is. You boyfriend’s best friend tending to your injury in the middle of a crowded bowling alley – while Bucky and Sharon were in the same vicinity!

“You’ll be alright.” Steve says gently (the gentlest you’ve ever heard him speak), as he continues to stroke your throbbing toe, “You just need to be more careful, okay?”

You find yourself nodding, your entire body buzzing with some sort of strange energy that you’ve never felt before. “I guess I just got distracted.”

Steve’s hand remains rubbing your toe, but his eyes look up to meet yours. And you almost forget how to breathe, feeling like there’s a bubble encasing the two of you, and everyone else is far, far away. All you can feel is his burning gaze and his hand touching you.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, I’ve been distracted all night too.” And you can’t help but notice how long and dark his lashes are, how they contrast so deeply from his pale hair and skin, how they fan against his cheekbones as he blinks up at you almost earnestly. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

That knocks you out of whatever reverie he’s pulled you into. Drive you home? While his girlfriend and your boyfriend stayed here? Was he insane?

You forcibly tug your foot out of his grasp, quickly putting your shoe back on before he can grab it again. And Steve stays in his crouched position in front of you, almost as if frozen in place. He’s staring at his hand, the one that was holding your ankle, before he looks up at you. There’s a fiery look in his eyes, one you can’t fully explain. You also can’t fully explain why your heart is beating like mad, and there’s a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

“I’m fine, Steve. Really. Thank you for uh… Just… Thanks.” You mumble.

Steve blinks, opening his mouth to speak before he shuts it again when he looks beyond your shoulder. He coughs, standing up to his full height and moving away from you suddenly. And you watch him whip his phone out, pretend he’s texting someone, and all the while your heart just won’t calm down. And then you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“We’ve got snacks!” Sharon announces, skipping over to Steve and handing him a bunch of things, “Here you go, babe. These cheesy fries are literally to die for. Me and Bucky picked at them on the way back here. Oh, and here’s your beer.”

You watch as Sharon simpers at her boyfriend, grabbing his hand and leading him to a nearby bench. Feeding him fries while he bats her hand away, instead grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. His face is still red, and his eyes are still bright, and–

“You okay, princess?” Bucky sits down beside you and puts his arm around you, giving you a tight squeeze. “You look troubled.”

You force a smile, “I’m fine, James.”

“Did Steve say something to you? Do you need me to talk to him again?”

Rapidly, you shake your head. Subconsciously, you’ve already made the decision not to tell Bucky about the weirdness that has just transpired. And the guilt is already eating you up from the inside out, despite the fact you hadn’t done anything. Or hadn’t you? Why had you not pulled away sooner? And why was Steve acting this way? Why was he so gentle, so tender? When every other instance between the two of you has been either him ignoring you, or being rude towards you?

Suddenly, your head hurts.

Bucky seems to understand that something is off with you, because he tells Sharon and Steve that he’s tired and wants to cut the night short. You hug Sharon goodbye, feeling like you want the ground to eat you up whole, before your boyfriend leads you out of the bowling alley.

“Princess, please tell me what’s bothering you.” He says moments later when the two of you are in his car.

You force a smile, “Nothing!”

His light blue eyes, so piercing in the darkness of the car, stare at you as if they can see right through you. But all he does is draw you in for a hug, and you feel your body sag into his. Bucky feels so cosy and safe, so dependable and good. All your worries and concerns dissipate for a moment as you hug him back almost fiercely.

“Well, why don’t we go get some ice cream?” He asks kindly.

You bury your face in his chest, not quite done hugging him yet. Maybe you were just overthinking whatever had happened back there with Steve. Maybe the blond alpha was just trying to turn a new leaf and be kind for once. Maybe his actions had been innocuous after all. You sniffle before looking up at your boyfriend and pressing a long kiss to his lips.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Bucky gets a double mint chocolate chip cone and you get a vanilla strawberry swirl. He licks the ice cream that you accidentally smear on the side of your mouth as you dig in, and then you both kiss some more. Sweet kisses and sweet touches laced with giggles. And then he takes you on a drive, and you roll the windows down and let the breeze hit your face as if you’re the main character in an indie film, allowing the cool night air to wash away any remnants of guilt. Bucky’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other one holding steadily onto yours, squeezing every few seconds and shooting you lovesick smiles that you return.

He parks outside of your dorm building and pulls you over the console and into his lap. And you let him kiss you and touch you and try to lose yourself in it. Try not to think of a hot summer’s day and freshly mown grass. You don’t even stop him when he pushes his hand down your leggings and past your panties, and you gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers brush against your hot core.

“Are you sure about this, princess?” Bucky breathes against your lips, and you want to cry at how sweet he is. How patient and kind. You don’t deserve him at all. You nod your head to indicate that yes, you are sure. You kiss him doubly hard, trying to drown out the feel of wanting to cry. Because actually no, you’re not sure about this. You don’t know if you’re ready. But you feel so bad, so bad for what happened with Steve.

You didn’t even do anything! The rational part of your brain screams. So then why did it feel like you had?

Bucky moves his fingers expertly inside you, his thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves in a way that does make you momentarily forget about anything else except for his touch. You mewl his name, clutching the fabric of his shirt and rutting against him. His large hands rub up and down your back, his lips warm against your ear as he coaxes you, “That’s right, princess. Let go for me, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

You come hard, body shaking and spasming on top of him as he holds you close to his chest. Praises you for being so good for him, for being so beautiful and perfect. And it’s crazy, because you feel anything but those things right now. But you sob out his name softly, and let him stroke your hair back as he continues to talk you through your orgasm, “That’s it, princess. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Thank you for letting me in, sweetheart. Thank you for being so perfect.”

He lets you recover, all the while kissing you. And then he walks you to your room and bids you goodnight. He tells you he’d have stayed the night, but he has to drive home to pick up an important document for his father. You manage a weak smile, and return his kisses before waving goodbye.

And then you shut the door and burst into tears.

And you don’t even know why, because nothing had happened between you and Steve! Nothing at all. But you cry for all the confusion within you, the unresolved feelings of guilt that you can’t understand for the life of you, and how you can’t seem to shake this yearning sadness inside you. Oh, why did Steve have to be so different tonight? Why had his eyes reflected such tenderness? Why had he held your ankle like that? Why hadn’t he let go?

Why did you care so much?

You take a long shower and change into clean, comfortable clothes before trying to distract yourself with Netflix. And that’s when you hear a knock on your door.

It’s another bouquet of yellow roses. You smile at the delivery man – you recognise his face at this point, since he’s been to your dorm room three times now. You marvel at Bucky’s quickness, because he’d only dropped you home about an hour ago. He must have paid for express delivery or something. And this time, the bouquet is accompanied by not only a note, but also a small package.

I really enjoyed our date tonight, baby.

You smile softly at the short but sweet message, before your eyes shift to the package. It’s brown and unsuspecting, with a yellow ribbon holding it together. You gently rip it open.

Coal black eyes stare up at you. A furry little face. Tan coloured fur and a light blue bow-tie. It’s a teddy bear! You can’t help but crack a smile, heart feeling lighter than it has all day. Oh, it was so cute! Like a furry little baby. You hug it close to your chest, the butterflies fluttering happily around in your tummy. You don’t receive gifts too often, and this was a total surprise. And definitely one that was helping lift your lousy mood.

You fall asleep with the teddy in your arms, and no nightmares come. Instead, you dream of warm sunlight splashing down on your skin, and green grass so fresh you can almost smell it. And the silhouette of a shadowy figure who holds you close and promises to keep you safe. And the yearning feel goes away. And you feel content.

***

“Okay, do you want the good news first or the bad news?”

“Uh oh.” You bite your lip, immediately assuming the worst as your hand freezes in the middle of tossing a folded shirt into your overnight bag. Today was the day you and Bucky were driving down to Bucky’s family house, where you were finally going to meet his parents and stay for the weekend. “They don’t like me, do they?”

Bucky snickers over the phone, “Wrong, sweetheart. My parents love you. Well, they love the pictures of you that I showed them from my phone. That’s the good news, actually. They seem genuinely excited to meet you. My mom’s planning a whole five course dinner.”

You resume packing, putting in your pyjama bottoms, an extra hoodie, your plastic bag of toiletries, as well as your new favourite stuffed teddy bear. You force out a chuckle, hoping he can’t detect your anxiety and nervousness over the phone, “That’s good. I really hope I don’t let them down.”

“Let them down? How?”

You chew on your lip and whisper, “By not being good enough…”

“Princess, you’re the prettiest, kindest, sweetest and smartest girl I’ve ever dated. I don’t want you putting yourself down like that, okay?”

“O-Okay.” He was right – it wasn’t healthy to keep thinking of yourself in such a negative light. And it wasn’t like you enjoyed feeling sorry for yourself or drowning in self-pity, you just sometimes let the doubts you had about yourself creep in and take over your mind. Despite the fact that since day one, Bucky had been reassuring you about how perfect you were.

But would a perfect girlfriend be feeling as guilty as you were?

“What’s the bad news?” You ask, trying to push your thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the conversation with your boyfriend.

Bucky sighs, “So, I had to actually stop by my dad’s office to sort out some paperwork. He only trusts me to do it, and since I’ll be working at his firm once I graduate, I figured it would be a good chance for me to show him that I’m actually competent with stuff like that.”

You nod, “That makes sense.”

“But that means I’ll be tied up all morning, so I won’t be able to drive you back to my house in Brooklyn.”

“Oh.” You let the words sink in. “That’s alright, James. I can just take the train.”

“Uh, I don’t think so, princess. But listen, Steve is going home for the weekend too, and his parents are practically neighbours with mine. He offered to give you a lift.”

You feel your whole body begin to shake as soon as his name is mentioned. It’s been a few days since the double date, and since what you’ve dubbed in your head as “the ankle incident.” Even now, your heart flutters at the memory, and you can still feel his warm fingers brushing over your foot as he’d held it in his hands and stroked you so softly. And when you close your eyes, you can see that earnest look on his face, and–

“Bucky, I really don’t mind taking the train.”

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t mind. But I mind, I don’t want my girl taking the train when you could easily just drive there.” There’s a pause as Bucky inhales deeply, “Look, I know you and Steve aren’t exactly the best of friends. But I really think he’s trying to turn a new leaf and be a nicer person. I mean, he actually volunteered to drive you, which is progress. And if I’m being honest, it would really give me peace of mind if I knew you were in the car with one of my friends instead of alone on a crowded, dingy train.”

“James, I really don’t think–”

“Please, sweetheart? For me?”

You exhale slowly, clasping your hands together to stop them from shaking. If Bucky had so much faith in Steve, then maybe it was you who was overthinking everything. Maybe Steve genuinely was turning a new leaf, and who were you to deny someone when they were doing you a favour? The drive down to Brooklyn would be long, but not too long. And Steve hadn’t been mean to you for many weeks now, so maybe it would all be okay?

“Okay, Bucky. If that’s what you want.” You agree softly.

“Great! Steve told me to tell you that he’ll pick you up at 3.”

***

Steve arrives outside your dorm at 2:55pm. Actually, you see his car pull up at around 2:45, and then you watch him park it and sit there drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. And then he gets out of the car and paces around for a while before finally making his way over to your door and knocking on it rather loudly. You give him a quiet hello and he gives you a grunt in return, the exchange giving you a sick feeling in your tummy – would it be this quiet and awkward for the whole journey? Before you can worry some more, Steve takes your overnight bag from your hands and leads you to his car.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He orders you the moment you sit down in the passenger seat.

“I was just about to.” You respond, a tad defensive because he hadn’t even given you a chance to breathe before he’d started ordering you around.

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t start the car until your seatbelt is firmly in place, and then you sit there twiddling your thumbs in silence because Steve doesn’t even have the radio on. You wonder if you should start a conversation, but you feel too shy. Which is crazy, since you’d really been starting to come out of your shell these past few months. But not with Steve. He was way too intimidating and scary and just… intense.

“How’s your toe?” He asks you gruffly out of the blue about ten minutes into the journey.

“It’s all good, thank you for asking.” Your response is cordial, and you wonder if you sound bitchy or clipped. It certainly isn’t your intention, but you’ve definitely got your guard up and you don’t really know how to speak to him.

Steve sighs, and there’s another fifteen minutes of silence before he pulls into a traffic jam, and that’s when he turns to face you.

“I broke up with Sharon.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your heart skip a beat, “Oh…uh…Oh.”

He nods, “Yeah. I took your advice.”

That makes you snap out of whatever momentary shock his sudden revelation had put you in. “My advice? Wh-What do you mean?”

The car starts moving again, and Steve takes his time to reply, and you wonder whether he can hear your heart pitter-pattering loudly in your chest as you anticipate his response.

“I’ve heard you, you know. All those times you complained to Bucky, asking him why I was with Sharon if I clearly didn’t care about her. And you were right, so I took your advice and I dumped her.”

You clear your throat, nervously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I didn’t mean… Well… She deserves better, Steve.” You inhale deeply and turn to look out the window – either out of awkwardness or because you can’t seem to meet his gaze. But he’s got a weird pull about him, practically reeling you back in and you can’t help but look back at him once he starts speaking again.

“I told her I wasn’t interested in her anymore. That I was in love with somebody else.” Steve takes a turn off the highway, and you sit there frozen in shock as he takes quick left and right turns, eventually driving into a small, deserted street, where he parks the car. You swallow, but there’s a huge lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of.

“Wh-Why are we stopping here, Steve?”

“I like how my name sounds when you say it.” His hand creeps over the console in a bid to grab yours, and you quickly move back. Your back slams against the door as you cringe away from him, eyes wide and heart racing.

“Wh-What are you doing? Stop!”

Steve scoffs, “Please. Don’t play dumb, I know you like me too. And the sooner you stop denying it, the easier all of this will be for you.”

You can hardly believe what you’re hearing, it’s almost like your own ears are playing tricks on you. As if you’re Alice falling down some weird rabbit hole into a dimension where nothing makes sense. Was this a joke? Was he pulling some sort of prank? But he’s got that same earnest, honest look in his eyes, the look he’d had at the bowling alley. But you swallow and shake your head rapidly.

“Steve, no, I’m with James. He’s my boyfriend, I don’t like you like that –”

“DON’T LIE!” Steve bursts out, and the sudden explosion of anger makes you jump out of your seat, and the panic that ensues in your heart has you grabbing the door handle in a desperate bid to get out of the car and away from him. But of course, the door remains locked, and now you can really feel the cold terror and dread as it overtakes your body.

Steve exhales slowly, running a hand through his blonde hair, “Don’t. Lie.” He repeats, reaching over to forcibly grab your wrist. And his touch alone sense goosebumps up and down your arm. “I knew we had a connection from the moment I saw you. And then at the bowling alley on our date, I knew you felt it too.”

“Y-You mean our double date,” you say slowly, incredulity dripping from your tone, “where you were with your girlfriend and I was with my boyfriend.”

Steve shakes his head, his grip on your wrist tightening, “You were the only one I could focus on that night.” And then, as you watch in horror, he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it as his eyes flutter shut, almost like he’s savouring kissing your skin for the first time. And you feel every cell in your body, from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes, flutter as he does it. He locks eyes with you, “And I saw how you reacted that night when you opened my gift, that’s how I knew you liked me too.”

His gift? The terror in your veins seems to triple in less than a second, and you feel like you might throw up. You think back to all those bouquets of yellow roses with no name on the notes that accompanied them. And your favourite stuffed teddy with the coal black eyes and blue bow tie. No. No, it couldn’t be. And he’d watched you open them? How?

“N-No, those were from James!” You bat at him, trying to get him to let go of your hand. You suddenly can’t breathe, can’t think. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. “Those flowers were from James!”

“Sure.” Steve snorts, “Is that why you never even mentioned them to him? You knew deep down they weren’t from him, omega. You knew.”

“No, no, no–”

“And how could they be from him? He doesn’t understand you. Not like I do.” He tries to cup your cheek with his warm hand but you dodge him, shaken down to your very core by all the revelations hurtling towards you at top speed. Steve narrows his eyes at you for a second, before grabbing your hand again. “You think he doesn’t tell me everything, omega? You think I don’t know that you haven’t even let him fuck you yet?”

You feel you’ve just been doused with a bucket of ice-cold water, and all you can do is gape helplessly at Steve, any words you may have had on the tip of your tongue now firmly lodged in the back of your throat.

Steve smirks, “That’s right. He told me you haven’t let him fuck you, and it’s been what, three months since you guys started going out?”

“I wanted to wait till I was ready.” You whisper.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Steve laughs bitterly, “But you and I both know the truth, which is that you’ll never be ready. Not for him. Because you don’t want him to fuck you, you don’t want that intimacy with him.” He yanks you closer with the hold he has on your wrist, till your foreheads are almost touching and you’re frozen in place by not only your fear but something else too. Something warm and inviting.

“If you were my girlfriend, you’d already be three months pregnant.”

Your jaw drops open, only a tiny squeak making its way out past your lips. It’s as if he’s stolen all the air from your lungs, and all the thoughts from your brain. You feel hot all over, but also numb. You feel nothing yet everything all at once, and you can’t believe what he’s saying.

“But that’s okay, we still have plenty of time for that.” Steve nods determinedly, his eyes clouding over with an almost wistful, faraway look. “Baby, I have a plan for us. I’m graduating soon, and I want you by my side as the mother of my children. You’re perfect for me, and I’ll give you the family you crave.”

It’s like he’s lit a candle inside you. A tiny, almost minuscule candle of hope fuelled by the picture his words paint, but it flames fiercely nevertheless. Until you forcibly snuff it out and shake your head once more, and deliver more futile pushes to get him to let you go.

“Y-You’re crazy! I don’t want that, Steve! I don’t want any of that!”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes. You do.” Steve sneers, twisting your arm when you grow more desperate, your movements ceasing as you stare up at him helplessly. But his face remains stoic, and a wild piece of blonde hair flops down over his forehead. “I told you; Bucky tells me everything. How you never really fully open up to him, how you get closed off and distant and sad sometimes and he can’t figure out why because you never tell him.”

“Th-That’s between me and him–”

“Don’t you get it?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you as if he’s had an epiphany and wants you to have it too. “I’m the one who knows you, omega. Not him.” His hand reaches up to cup the wide of your face again, and this time he succeeds because you’re frozen in place. His voice softens, “I know you feel like your mother doesn’t care about you. I know you feel lonely despite being in a relationship with Bucky. I know you felt like this even in your previous relationship before Bucky. And I know you don’t have a dad, and I know it hurts–”

“No, no, no, no!” The tears are welling up in your eyes now, and you feel like you can’t breathe. Like you’re hyperventilating and there’s no escape and you can’t run away because this stupid car is locked and you’re in the middle of nowhere and you’ve never told anyone about your dad! You never talk about that with anyone. You don’t even think about it! How did he know?!

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Steve rubs his wrists over your face, and the tranquil effect of a hot midsummer afternoon warms you from the inside out. You feel your heartbeat go back to normal, and you’re able to breathe again. You look up to see Steve’s face inches away from yours, and all you can feel are the pads of his thumbs slowly stroking your cheekbones, and for the life of you, you can’t explain why you just let him do it.

“Do you ever get that yearning feeling, baby?” He asks you softly, so softly that you almost don’t hear it. His blue eyes sparkle with determination and earnesty, and he holds your face so carefully in his hands. “Tell me, do you ever get that feeling? Of wanting something so bad but you can’t seem to figure out what it is?”

“Yes.” You whisper hushedly, dropping your head in shame. Your heart throbs with the same guilt that you’ve been feeling for days now. Horrific, unforgiving guilt that washes through your body in taunting waves.

Steve kisses you then. And it feels like everything around you seems to stand still. Every particle, every atom, every hair, every speck of dust freezes in place. You close your eyes, and it’s like the sun itself descends down to the earth, making everything bask in its addicting glow. Fireworks and explosions behind your eyes and all around you, his warmth enveloping you like a hug. An embrace of delicious heat that feels like you’re home. Really home, and it’s something you’ve never felt before.

And then you start crying.

“I can’t do this to him.” You pull away, and the panic you feel is almost immediate. “Steve, I… We can’t do this to Bucky. He’s so good to me, he doesn’t deserve this! We can’t, we can’t–”

“He’ll understand.” Steve says firmly, keeping a tight hold on you. “It’ll be hard for him, but once he sees that we’re in love, he’ll understand. And it’s good for him too, because this way he can find a mate who is better suited for him.”

Through the haze of Steve’s smoky firewood and hot summer day scent, you think back to Bucky and his crinkled smile. How he’d been the first one to speak to you on your first day, how he’d walked you to the library and how at ease you’d felt with him. How his lopsided smile, sparkling eyes and effortless charm had reeled you in. All the nights spent cuddling or watching TV or just talking and talking and talking. How respectful he’d been of your boundaries; how sweet and patient and intuitive he’d been any time you felt uncomfortable or upset.

How he’d complimented you every chance he got, building up your self-esteem through his love and adoration. How his easy-going nature made you feel so comfortable… But yet not comfortable enough to let him in. And that’s when the guilt seems to attack every cell of your body, killing you from the inside out. Why? Why couldn’t you just let Bucky in? Why couldn’t you just love him? Why, why, why?

Why did it have to turn out this way?

“No.” You shake your head, trying to shake away the thick haze of Steve’s scent which seems to be corrupting your every sense. And when you next speak, your voice is firmer, and you wipe the tears from your face, and you sit up straight, and you shrug his hands off of you. “No, Steve. We can’t do this. I need to get out, I need to–”

Steve’s eyes narrow once more, “Omega, listen to me–”

“Let me out of this car! Just let me out, okay! I’m not doing this to him! You’re wrong, Steve! You’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I don’t like you like that!” You rattle the door handle desperately, but of course it doesn’t budge. “Let me out, Steve! I can’t think in here, I need to get out! I need to speak to Bucky, I need to… I need to…”

You feel yourself going lax in his arms, your limbs turning to jelly as he places his hand on your mating gland, fingers pressing down. It sends thrills and shivers up and down your body as he draws you back to him, closer and closer till he’s embracing you.

“I’m your alpha.” Steve whispers in your ear, and the possessiveness in his tone rocks you to your very core. “You’re my omega, all mine. It’s like you were made for me. And that’s all that matters.”

You’re about to protest once more, and then you feel his teeth graze against your mating gland. It feels peculiar, thrilling, dangerous all at the same time. But the threat of his action doesn’t register immediately, and it takes you a second too long to realise, and then–

“No, Steve, don’t! Don’t!”

A blood-curdling scream leaves your mouth. Steve’s teeth are sharp and unforgiving as they clamp down on your mating gland. And his bite if so painful, like he’s chipping and tearing away at any traces of autonomy left in your body. The sensitive skin of your neck breaks and tears along with the last remnants of your independence.

Everything stills around you. Everything but Steve. He’s all you can feel now. His heartbeat, loud and wild. Or is that your heartbeat? Everything feels different, nothing is the same. It’s all Steve. All of your senses are Steve. All of your feelings are Steve.

“I’m never gonna let you go.” Steve whispers against the fresh wound on your neck, licking at his handiwork which will soon turn into a mark that brands you as his forever.

His presence around you is infinite. The intense heat of his aura mixed with his addictive scent, hitting you from all angles like a tidal wave.

And, like a bittersweet film coming to an end, it washes away the memory of Bucky before you even have the chance to say goodbye.

SDKGKSLAG OKAY.

So.... did I just present y’all with a Steve x omega fic disguised as Bucky fic?? Despite hyping the Bucky fic for MONTHS? Well... *dodges tomatoes* Yes. Yes I did. I’M SORRY BUCKY GIRLIES. STOMEGA FOREVER. This was the plan from the start, because it doesn’t matter if Bucky asked for omega’s number first - she would always end up with Steve. In any AU. In every AU. ANYWAYS. GUYS. I hope you liked it and I hope you’re not mad! I really really really would love to know what yall thought! Like genuinely, I jsut NEED to know what you guys thought of this bc honestly... I am not so sure AHHHHH. okay i’ll shut up now. Bye.

[supernaturalgirl20]

ok ok i have a joel x reader request. maybe after settling down in jackson, reader has some guys approaching her and flirting which makes joel feel insecure and like reader would be better off without him? she has to reassure him that he’s the one for her. maybe some smut but just very soft and loving perhaps

Love this request 🥰 thanks nonnie, hope you enjoy 😊

A Fool for You

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, slight age gap, insecure Joel, self doubt, flirting, slight jealousy, smidge of angst,cursing, fluff.

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Joel waited patiently at the gates for the morning patrol party to return, more specifically, you. He hated when you did patrols without him, but Tommy had insisted you help out with the new crew that had arrived last month.

He’d grumbled about it, but you’d assured him you’d be fine. Joel knew you could handle yourself. That wasn’t the issue. He didn’t trust the new guys, not one bit. It didn’t help that they seemed enamoured with you. Always watching you with their lust-filled eyes. 

“They’re not back yet?” Ellie asked as she sidled up beside him. His gaze turned towards her, and he shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“She’ll be ok, ya know? She can handle herself just fine.” Ellie was trying her best to reassure him, but he couldn’t shake the anxiety that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Ellie’s laugh startled him from his thoughts and when he met her gaze again, she was bowled over with laughter. 

“You’ve got it bad man.” She smacked his arm as she continued to laugh causing a scowl to form on his face. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout”, he grumbled as he huffed out a breath, his gaze fixed firmly in the gate. 

“Sure ya don’t. You should just tell her how you really feel and then you can finally give her that ring you’ve been squirrelling away.” Ellie looked at him then with her eyebrows raised, a silent challenge for him to correct her but he didn't. 

How the hell did she find out about the ring? He thinks to himself as tries to steal his expression, not wanting to prove her right. Of course, Ellie would know how he truly felt. There wasn’t much he was able to keep hidden from her, she could read him like a book. 

“She loves you too, ya know? In case you were wondering. You two are about as subtle as a sledgehammer.” The sound of the gate opening captured her attention and she missed the way Joel’s face lit up. 

Did you really love him? He loves you. There’s no doubt in his mind about how he feels about you; he just doesn’t know if you feel the same. The relationship you both had was undefined, but you lived together, you slept in the same bed and took pleasure from each other’s bodies and to everyone in Jackson, you were Joel’s girl. 

Could you truly love him? 

Hope began to bloom deep inside him and when he saw you enter through the gate, he couldn’t help the smile that edged its way onto his face. 

“See I told you, she’s just fine,” Ellie’s voice sounded from beside him, startling him. He’d forgotten she was standing there and when he looked down at her she tilted her head in your direction. “Go on then. Go get her.”

“Ain’t, you supposed to be at school?” He asked, his eyebrow raised in question. She simply shrugs her shoulders before winking at him and turning to leave. He smirks after her, silently wondering how he got lucky enough to get a second chance at a normal life. 

“Hey, are you waiting here long? One of the new girls had a meltdown out there. It's what took so long to get back.” Joel’s eyes take you in, searching for any signs that you might have been hurt and when he finds none, he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Not long. Just glad you’re ok. Ain’t lettin Tommy make this a regular thing though. I ain’t been able to sit still all mornin’.” 

You smile up at him as his gaze drifts to the others filing into the town behind you. He clenches his fists as he spots some of the new guys ogling you. The fuck they looking at?

He feels a rage begin to simmer beneath the surface of his skin and without thinking much about it he wraps his arms around you and crashes his lips to yours. You gasp at first, shocked by his sudden display of affection, something he never does but it quickly turns into a soft moan as he licks along your bottom lip and his hands grab your ass. 

What’s gotten into him? You think to yourself as you wind your hand around his neck. Just as it starts to get a little heated, he pulls away and glares over your shoulder. You follow his line of sight and suddenly it all makes sense. 

He’s jealous. 

Jake and Dillon are both glancing in your direction and his hands grip your hips a little tighter causing the smile on your face to widen. 

“You ain’t gotta worry about them Miller. I’m all yours.” You tease and he quickly glances at you before grumbling under his breath. You take his hand in yours and lead him away from the crowd gathered at the gate towards your shared home. 

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go home.”

***

Joel made sure after that - having threatened Tommy enough - that you were always on the same patrol. It always made him uneasy when you went out of Jackson without him. 

Everyone knew you were his lady. It didn’t have to be announced, it was just the way it was.

Apparently though, the new guys didn’t seem to get the message and with each patrol they began to flirt more with you, and it did nothing to help with his ever growing insecurities. 

He’d always felt like you were too good for him. Since way back in the Boston QZ and he ignored his feelings for you by hooking up with Tess. She knew of course, nothin slipped past that woman. 

You were smart, beautiful and a little bit younger and as time passed by and you became more settled into this new life, he began to question if you were better off without him. 

“Hey,” your voice startled him from his thoughts and as he looked up at you, leaning against the door to your shared room, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Hey darlin’, everythin alright?” You nodded your head as you pushed away from the door frame. 

“Yep, just wanted to see if you wanted to come to the Tipsy Bison, the patrol crew are all meeting for a well-deserved drink.” You made your way towards him, settling yourself between his open legs and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Gotta head over to the stables and fix up the fence, but you head on over, as soon as I’m done, I’ll join ya.” He lifted his hand to brush some hair off your face, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“M’okay.” His hand drifts behind your neck and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a soft kiss before he pulls away and pats your ass. “Go on now, or we’ll both be late.”

You smile down at him as you peck his lips once more and turn to leave. Joel let out a sigh as the sound of the door closing echoed through the house. He needed to stop thinkin like that. 

***

Your laughter is the first thing he hears as he pushes open the door to the Tipsy Bison. It’s a sound he’s grown to love over the years you’ve been together, and it always brings a smile to his face. 

The smile quickly turns to a scowl though as he stands at the entrance, the door swishing behind him. His stomach twists into knots and his heart thunders within his chest when he sees you standing at the bar with Dillon. 

He’s clearly said something funny which explains your laughter but that’s not what bothers Joel. It’s the way he’s standing too close, his hand gently touching your arm. It’s the way his eyes keep drifting to your lips. 

Those doubts and insecurities simmer to the surface, and he panics. What if you want someone more like Dillon? Someone stronger. Someone younger. Joel can’t take it anymore and before you can spot him, he turns and leaves, making his way home. 

He bursts into the house, the front door slamming behind him echoing through the air as he rushes past the kitchen and up the stairs. 

“Hey, everything alright?” Ellie’s voice shouts after him but he doesn’t answer. “Okay then,” she mutters as she continues to fill her bag. 

***

The laughter dies in your throat the minute Dillon’s hand touches your arm. He was sweet and very funny, but you didn’t have any interest in him like that. Not when you were madly in love with Joel. 

As if your mind had conjured him, you see him in the doorway of the bar, his back to you as he makes a hasty exit. Was he not going to join you?

You're not sure what Dillon is talking about now that your mind is on Joel. With a wry smile you turn back towards him. “I’m gonna head out, ok?”

You down the rest of your whiskey and turn to leave but Dillon’s hand on your wrist stops you. 

“I thought we were having a good time,” he says, his tone a little clipped. Your eyes drift to where he’s touching you and you quickly pull your hand away. “Look, you’re a nice guy but I’m not interested. I love Joel. I’m his.”

“That old sack of shit,” he jeers, and you can feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface of your skin. 

“What did you say?” He laughs again and you clench your fist tight. “I said he’s an old sack of shi…”

“Fuck! You bitch.” He cries as you punch him squarely in the face. He holds his nose as blood flows freely from it, trickling down over his hand. 

“You better watch what you say about my man. Cause I ever hear you say shit like that again,” you lean in close, your breath tickling the skin of his neck. “I’ll rip your cock off. Got it?” 

He nods his head frantically before rushing out the door. The bar is silent now and you can feel Tommy behind you before he says anything. 

“Jesus, you and Joel are perfect for each other. I reckon he won’t bother ya again now. Hell, I reckon no man is gonna bother ya now.” His hand rests on your shoulder squeezing gently. 

“Good. Cause I’m already takin.” Tommy pats you on the back as he turns back towards the bar. You let out a sigh as you walk out of the bar and make your way home. You know that’s where he’s gone. 

“Hey, something happen with Joel? He stormed up the stairs like a moody teenager.” Ellie asks as you make your way into the kitchen.

“Not really sure but I’m gonna head up and see if he’s ok.” You furrow your brow when Ellie throws her backpack on. “Are you off somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m heading over to Dina’s. I’m staying the night so don’t worry about me.” She gives you a tight hug before heading for the door and leaving. 

You close your eyes and take in a deep breath before ascending the stairs two at a time. Your hand hovers over the door handle of your shared room and you hope that he doesn’t shut you out this time. 

The door creaks as you push it open and you find Joel suiting on the bed facing the window. His shoulders are tense and you decide to crawl across the bed and wrap yourself around him. He tenses more when he feels your arms slip around his back towards his chest. 

“What are ya doin?” His voice is low, and you can feel the rumble of it as your head presses against his back. 

“What’s wrong? You’ve been a little off since I did that patrol on my own a couple of weeks back.” 

He sighs, leaning forward and placing his hands on his face. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong.”

“Ok, yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, baby. You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“I don’t think this is gonna work out,” he mutters quickly through his hands. Your heart cracks just a little. Where the hell is this coming from?

“Joel,” you whisper as you pull away from his back and move to straddle him. He reluctantly moves his hands away from his face to grip your hips, making sure you don’t fall. 

His gaze settles on the window behind you but you're not having any of it. Reaching out to him, you gently place your hand on his cheek, and he closes his eyes at the feeling of you touching him. 

“Look at me please.” Your voice is soft, and you run your thumb along the stubble of his cheek. He takes a deep breath before slowly opening his eyes and meeting your gaze. 

“What’s going on, Joel? Are you really breaking up with me?” He swallows loudly, his eyes tracing the curve of your face before letting his eyes drift away. 

“No! Look at me and say it. Say you want this to end. That you don’t want me anymore.” It comes out a little harsher than you wanted but you need him to talk to you about what’s running through his head. 

“I ain’t good enough for ya, darlin’.” It’s almost a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. “You could have anyone you wanted. I’m just holdin ya back baby.”

“Now hold on a minute, where are you getting this from. Joel, baby.” You grab his face with both hands and force him to look at you. “You are not holding me back. You make me better, in every way and I couldn’t live without you. So please don’t make me.”

“You should be with someone closer in age. Someone like Dillon.” That’s when it clicks. 

“I don’t want him. I don’t want anyone that isn’t you. Never have, never will. Joel, you're stuck with me. Besides, you ain’t that much older than me, baby. I love you.”

His breath hitches. You love him. His eyes glaze over with unshed tears and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You-you love me?” 

“Afraid so. You, Joel Miller, are the love of my life. You ain’t too old for me. You may be a little bit grumpy but, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.” 

He grabs your ass and pulls you close, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in savouring the feel of you in his arms. His heart beats wildly as he utters those words back. 

“I love you too, darlin’.” You run your fingers through his hair, and he hums contentedly. “You are sure I’m what you want?” He asks as he pulls back to look at you. 

“Let me show you how much I want you.” He gulps as you remove your jacket and top, tossing them onto the floor behind you. His eyes widen, transfixed by your form as you make quick work of removing your bra.

You slip off his lap and remove your trousers, taking your underwear off with them. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whisper as his eyes trail the length of your naked body. 

You bend, pulling off his boots and socks before running your hands up along his jean clad thighs. Undoing his belt, you reach for his zipper and he lifts his hips as you pull his jeans off. 

His breathing is ragged as you straddle his waist again, hands running up his chest reverently. His arousal is hard against you and he closes his eyes and groans when you run your slick along it.

With delicate fingers, you slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, rolling it off his shoulders. You giggle at the sight of the grey t-shirt he has underneath. 

“Why do you always have to wear so many layers?” He smiles at you and shrugs his shoulders. “Think it’s cause I’m….”

You place your finger against his lips, “if you say you’re old, i'm gonna slap you baby.” He chuckles, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. 

“M’okay. I won’t say it so.” His eyes are focused on your lips, and you lean in and capture his in a searing kiss. You swallow the moan he lets out as you slowly grind against him. 

“Wanna take care of you, baby,” you whisper against his lips. He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He’s too damn horny. 

You push at his chest, forcing him onto his back and the way he’s looking up at you sends a shiver down your spine. 

You don’t speak. You don’t want to ruin the moment with words, so you grab his length in your hand and pump him twice before you line him up and sink down on him. He whimpers, his hands gripping your hips tight as he keeps his gaze focused on where he disappears inside you. 

It’s slow, sensual as you roll your hips above him. You’re focused on him, on his pleasure as you try to reassure him with your body that he’s it for you. 

You can feel your pleasure build and as your orgasm washes over you, Joel makes a strangled noise below you. His eyes are wide open, glazed over with lust as he focuses on the way your breasts bounce slightly. He moves his hand from your hip to squeeze your breast, pinching your pebbled nipple between his fingers and you moan softly as you clench around him. 

His breathing becomes more ragged, and you know he’s close. You ride him a little harder and he trembles as he nears his release. He groans out your name as his body jerks, spurting hot ropes of cum inside you. You both pant loudly, his grip on your hips loosening as he pulls you down towards him. He doesn’t pull out, wanting to stay connected to you for a little longer. 

“So, have I convinced you you’re it for me?” You whisper into his chest. Joel smiles, lifting your chin towards him and he connects his lips with yours. “Don’t know darlin’. Might need a little more convincin’.” 

You smack his chest, and he chuckles, pulling you close. “Hey,” he says as he grabs your hand. “Why is your hand bruisin’?” You shrug your shoulders and nuzzle back into his chest. “Let’s just say, you aint gotta worry about Dillon no more.” His eyebrows arch and his chest expands with pride. You really are his lady.

He knows that you love him. That he loves you and that you are all he needs. You and Ellie. His gaze drifts towards his bedside locker where the ring he found a couple of months back lays sitting in a black box. 

A smile plays across his face. He’s gonna have to ask you now. Ask you to be his wife. Maybe then - when you’re wearing his ring on your finger, sharing his name - the men of Jackson will think twice about flirting with what’s his. 

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade @avengersfan25 @angstismydrug @everythingfan @pedrosbum @ryangoslingstanktop

[peachsayshi]

heyy idk if you're still doing ex husband nanami etc but here goes nothing!! maybe after the new year's party nanami finally meets the guy she went on a date with?? you're free to write anything on that ♥️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ A Reason To Celebrate ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: ex husband nanami x reader; angst; mostly fluff; nanami has a son; angy nanami; kissing ↬･ wc: 6,740

↬ notes: I was supposed to post this in honor of kento's birthday, but better late than never! here is a highly requested update for you all x there is a bit of a time skip from the last part!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami regrets agreeing to this divorce.

He knows that he shouldn’t have conceded to you so easily. He understands that he shouldn’t have turned his back on you when you confessed that you wanted out of this relationship. He hates that he allowed his pride to get in the way of your true feelings, and is ashamed for cowering into a corner when what he needed to do was fight even harder to keep you by his side. He’s sorry for the terrible words that he threw at you early on, when he placed the blame entirely on you for ruining what was so, so perfect.

When you said “I do” it was because you accepted him wholeheartedly, but he broke his a vow by not leaving his job as he intended the minute that pregnancy strip turned pink.

The trials and tribulations of a jujutsu sorcerer never ends, but nothing he’s ever experienced compares to how hollow he feels.

That’s why he’s been spending every hour dissecting the current status of your relationship. He’s struggling to figure out his balance now that he’s turned his entire world upside down.

All he wants to do is rekindle the flame of what he lost.

“Be honest with me…are you truly happy with how things are between us?”

Your eyes revealed the softest, most vulnerable parts of yourself when he posed that question. He saw how quickly you buried the weight of your emotion into his chest, could see that it was a desperate attempt to hide from confronting the truth.

Months have passed since that night.

Your relationship with your ex-husband is the best it’s ever been - the two of you have finally figured out how to construct your lives in these two separate parts.

You get to have him in doses, and he no longer burdens you with worry.

This arrangement has been working out swimmingly, but Nanami still can’t ignore the feeling that if you could just meet him halfway, then maybe there might actually be a chance for a real reconciliation.

Things took a turn last week when you surprised your ex-husband with a call while he was at work, asking him if he had the time to take Hiroki off your hands for the rest of the afternoon.

“I just need a little bit of time for myself,” you reluctantly blurted, the unusual statement sounding foreign on your lips.

Nanami’s concern wouldn’t stop him from prying. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine!” you squeaked. “I just…uhm…I just really need the quiet today. I know this is very last minute, and of course I understand if you’re too busy-”

“I’m not busy at all,” he immediately interjected, his heart screaming that he would willingly jump at your every command if you asked. “I’ll just inform Gojo that I’m taking the day off. He won’t have any problems with it…”

Later that evening, while running a quick errand with his son, Nanami saw you stepping out of his favorite bakery.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you in your summer green dress, the heat already rushing to his cheeks as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He was already contemplating with an idea on how to swing you out of your alone time to indulge him for a quick bite to eat, but that blissful plan was rudely interrupted by a gentleman who followed your footsteps soon after.

Nanami blinked his brown eyes in disbelief, staring with his mouth slightly apart as you spoke to the man with a level of familiarity that made your ex-husband nauseous. He saw the stranger reach for the tip of your fingers to help assist you with one of the many, many shopping bags in your hands.

The radiant glow blooming from the deepest parts of his chest collapsed in on itself upon seeing your flustered expression from the contact.

Dread overcomes him when he recalls that the last time you had asked him to watch over Hiroki was when you decided to go out on that stupid date.

Nanami had allowed the center of his own feelings to distract him from the current state that his marriage is in. Just because he is willing and ready to reconcile, that didn’t necessarily mean that you felt the same way. He’s just been trying so hard to stop you from pushing him out, and after the recent events that transpired between you both, he actually thought he was making some kind of progress.

You didn’t even seem interested in the guy when you relayed to him how your date went. The little incident that happened at the Gojo’s New Years Eve party suggested that maybe your feelings for Nanami weren’t so far out of his reach. Nanami rarely ever remembers his drinking sessions with Shoko, but what remained perfectly etched in his brain was the question that he boldly asked you - the one that continued to haunt him as the weeks passed by, and which he prayed that he would eventually get an answer to.

Did he misread the signs?

He wondered if you thought his question was simply the ramblings of a disoriented drunk, even though it was the most honest he’s been about his feelings in a while.

The longer he stood there watching you with this other man, the more he could feel his heart shattering.

His logic contradicted his apprehension with a gentle reminder of the words that you shared with him - of how your intimate and close relationship with him will always mean something to you…

He hesitated approaching you both at first, but you are still his family after all and he wasn’t about to pretend like couldn’t visibly see what was playing out before him.

If you were, in fact, seeing somebody else…then the man had every right to know about it.

Anger and betrayal guided him towards you and he greeted you with a cold and polite, “hello”.

Despite his stoic expression, he was barely holding it together watching your eyes widen in a state of shock. He instantly knew that he was the last person you were expecting to run into.

“K-Ken!” you gasped, flickering your pretty irises between your ex-husband and the man beside you. “uh-what…what are you doing here?”

Nanami’s eyes never left yours; he’s studied every reaction out of you like they were written out as sacred texts. He memorized the tempos of your breath, counted the blinks, and interpreted the many ways in which your lips could speak without ever making a sound.

“I ran out of bread. So, I decided to take Hiroki for a little walk and pick some up,” he replied before shifting his sharp and scrutinizing gaze towards the man.

The gentleman seemed equally as taken aback by Nanami, and your ex-husband could see an uneasiness washing over him.

“Hello,” he firmly greeted, introducing himself without any consideration over the thick tension that suddenly manifested. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

The man parted his lips to speak but you were quick to cut off his answer, your suspicious behavior only fueling Nanami's anxiety.

“This is Matsuda-san! Matsuda, this is Kento Nanami…he’s my…uhm,” you fumble but quickly recollect yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness, “he’s Hiroki’s father…”

That nearly split the sorcerer in half.

You took a second to catch your breath, unreasonably winded from the explanation alone.

“Ken, Matsuda-san is an acquaintance of mine. We actually had dinner a while back…I think you might remember me telling you about it?”

Nanami’s face turned to stone, hardening every muscle to stop himself from reacting.

Of course he remembers, he grumbles to himself, just like how he can still feel you on the tips of his fingers when his hand was between your legs while you were telling him all about it…

So, this is the guy, he acknowledged, a slight tremor shaking down his spine.

“Yes that’s right,” Matsuda confirmed with giddy amusement, but it only made Nanami want to knock the teeth out of that smug grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san....”

“You as well” Nanami responded bitterly but tried his best to remain cordial. He quickly averted his attention away from the man and back to your skittish self.

“Are you heading back to your place? I’ll gladly walk you home…”

“Actually…” Matsuda interrupted, and the cold stare Nanami shot at him was enough to shut him up before he could even pose any kind of bold suggestions.

“Well, you see…” you stammered nervously, “I’m actually not heading home just yet. I…uh, wanted to stop by this new boutique shop that just opened! You know, the one where I got my body wash from? They apparently have a great sale going on, and I really don’t want to miss it…”

“If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that shop just around the corner from your place?” Nanami pressed, slightly annoyed over the fact that this guy has not taken the hint and scampered off somewhere else.

“Oh, yeah…it is,” you wince unsuccessfully , “but the things is, I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and…uh…”

He can see you panicking, notice the way you were crafting a brand new story out of thin air to play it off as the truth.

He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face which softened at your desperate attempt.

You’ve always been such a terrible later.

“The thing is,” you carry on , “I actually made plans to meet with my co-worker…and, and… Matsuda-san is joining us as well! But…But, I’ll call you once I’m done to pick up Hiroki, okay?”

He hated how formally you sounded when speaking to him, like he was just another friend and not the man who was your former husband, not the man who you shared your body with or confessed your unconditional love to.

“Of course,” he conceded with resent, “I guess I’ll see you later this evening…”

He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, refusing to look back to where his broken heart had remain fragmented.

When you picked up Hiroki that evening, Nanami couldn’t help but remain frigid towards you. He didn’t extend the usual invitation of welcoming you to his home, nor did he care to engage in any small conversation.

He was tired of having you drag him around with absolutely no consideration of his feelings.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On any other day, Nanami would have the patience to deal with his superior’s animated personality. He closes his tired eyes for just a second in an attempt to tune out Gojo’s boisterous tone, and reluctantly releases a long, drawn out sigh.

“Nanamin,” Gojo lectures, “don’t frown on your birthday or you’ll be miserable until the next one…”

The blonde felt his eye twitch, noted the sudden tension pinching in the space where his brows furrowed together and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the flash of a pearly, white grin looking right at him.

He can’t help but grimace.

Gojo raises his eyebrow, taken aback by the disdain on his subordinates face. “What? Are you really that upset because we decided to do something nice for you?”

Despite their best efforts to keep it all a secret, Nanami knew that Gojo and his band of students were planning out something special for his birthday.

Itadori wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions over what kind of gifts he likes, and what his favorite treats are. He would run off in secret with the other students and nearly flew across the room whenever Nanami caught him alone with Gojo.

For Itadori’s sake, Nanami attempted to display a level of surprise when he walked into the break room earlier today and was welcomed by a small party which everyone had pitched in to put together for him.

“I-…no…that’s not it…” He replies to Gojo’s initial question with a somber tone. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he continues to carefully pack the array of gifts that have been left for him. “Although I find it quite unnecessary, I am very grateful for this, for what you all did…”

“How unfortunate for you to be so loved and cared for…” Gojo sassily remarks with a click of his tongue.

“Let’s not ruin a good thing, shall we? That’s probably the nicest compliment you’ll ever receive from me”

His superior laughs, “I’m sure I can drag another one out of you”

The echo of Gojo’s boot surrounds the room as he slowly approaches Nanami to stand by his side. “Seriously though,” he presses as he slides his hands deep into his pockets, “anything you want to share with me?”

“Not particularly,” Nanami huffs as he places the last gift into the paper bag.

“Not that it’s news, but you’ve had a particularly displeased scowl resting on your face for over a week…”

The blonde pauses what he’s doing to exhale with frustration, and it only prompts Gojo to quirk a curious brow.

Nothing Nanami could say would make him feel better about the fact that he saw his ex-wife with another man. Nothing will ease the wariness in his chest that you two have barely spoken to one another since that god awful encounter, and the one thing that Nanami least expected to happen on his birthday was for you to forget to call or text him a wish.

Instead, he swallows the hurt that lumps in his throat and glosses over Gojo’s concern over him.

“Nothing’s wrong”

He glances at his wrist to check the time. The festivities of the afternoon has him running late, which means that he’ll have to rush home and get ready quickly to make it in time to your place.

He picks up the two paper bags laying out on the table, “I have to go. I have to pick up Hiroki…”

His superior pouts his lip while complacently nodding his head, and taking into account the sudden sensitivity around the subject. His knowing eyes hidden behind his blindfold can tell that Nanami was avoiding the discussion entirely, but the blonde refused to stay behind and give Gojo anymore ammunition for him to pry even further.

But before he walked out the door, he could hear Satoru yelling from the back room.

"Cheer up, Nanamin! You never know if the day will take an unexpected turn!"

As he made his way out onto the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami considers that there is always a reason to celebrate one’s birthday, but for whatever reason, none of them seemed good enough for him this year.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On his way home from work, Nanami tries to show gratitude to the small pockets of joy in his day.

He begrudgingly sent Gojo a follow up text to thank him for what he put together with the students after feeling a tad bit guilty about his rude responses earlier.

He was soon met with a bombardment of annoying pictures and I love you posts from his superior, to which he immediately muted the chat to in order to stop getting harassed with endless notifications.

He can feel the exhaustion settling in by the time he arrives to his place, slowly turning the key to his front door. Carefully taking off his shoes, he neatly places them on his shelf by the entrance before dragging his tired heels down the hallway.

He can’t stop thinking about the way the students showered him with such affection, and it is a conscious reminder of why he continues pursuing being a jujutsu sorcerer.

He cares for every one of them deeply, and would never allow the archaic practices of the society to strip them of their golden hearts and pure minds.

Things have to be different with them.

He places the paper bags filled with gifts on the floor, thinking that he’ll get around to opening them sometime tomorrow, then proceeds to loosen the tie around his neck. He steps out into the open space of his apartment, only to find himself walking into a sea of golden strings that were tied to round, blue balloons.

Nanami freezes.

You’re in the middle of his living room, wearing a pair of denim jeans and an embroidered white top that he specifically remembers buying for you while you were both dating.

You’re holding his son in your arms, the two of you beaming a very similar smile, and wearing an obnoxious pair of frilly party hats.

“Wha-”

Hiroki interrupts him by blowing into the party horn, the silly noise making him giggle as he repeats the action for a second time.

“Surprise!” you bounce with a little excitement, and Hiroki mimics your phrase as he attempts to speak out this new word.

Your ex-husband stares at you in shock.

He’s still absorbing all the elements around him, taking in the new details of the colorful, piped cake resting on the dining table, along with a full spread of dinner when the aromatics finally envelop his senses while also recognizing that there is music playing as low, mellow beats surround the room.

“We got your daddy good,” you adorably whisper into Hiroki’s ear, and Nanami swears that he can feel his heart beat for the first time in a week.

“What…” he rasps, snapping himself out of the disorientation and breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? How…How did you even get in?”

“I used the spare key you gave me…” you explain.

“But you’ve never used the spare key…” he argues back courteously.

You step closer towards him, and Hiroki immediately extends his chubby arms out to his father while dropping his party horn in the process.

Brown eyes stay watching you as Nanami reaches for his son, he secures him in one arm while the other searches for your waist to stop you from crouching down to pick up the insignificant object.

He squeezes you affectionately, begging for answers.

“I know, but today is different…It’s your birthday, Kento!”

“But…”

“But, what?” you question with a raised brow, your eyes glancing away for only a minute to look at how Hiroki mirrors his father. “Did you really think we weren’t going to celebrate this together?”

He slips his arm around your waist, resting his large palm flat against your the small of your back.

“I just thought that…I just thought that you were busy. I haven’t really heard from you this week…”

His voice is small, cautionary almost, like he’s too afraid to let his woes slip out.

You giggle sheepishly, and it sends goosebumps to run all over his skin.

“Well, I’ve been running around planning out a little something for somebody special,” you admit with a sly smile, “plus, I’ve also been helping out Yuji and Gojo with their secret surprise for you…”

Nanami can’t help but crack a smile, sensing the frustration of his stress dispersing.

“Don’t tell me that was your idea too?”

“Not necessarily, but I offered to help them out after Gojo called me. Besides, Yuji was struggling with ideas because he couldn’t swing any decent answers out of you…”

His fingers lightly tense around the fabric of your top, scrunching the material just a bit. “You knew about it but you weren’t there today,” he points out.

Your heart shivers from the innocent contact, but you hold your unwavering grin before replying, “I was thinking of stopping by at first, but I told Gojo that I would rather do something more cozy. I thought-I thought you might have appreciate if it was just the three of us celebrating together…”

Nanami smiles and it brightens his whole face. His eyes gleam with pure, unfiltered joy and he tenderly tugs you closer into his frame as he pulls you in for a much needed hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.

He keeps you there, the stillness only disturbed by Hiroki’s slightly fidgety state. He strokes his thumb up and down against your back, and rests his chin on your temple as he allows you to meld into the contortions of his frame when you return his embrace.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami was the one who always cooked.

In a way, your former husband spoiled you from ever wanting to go back into the kitchen by yourself because he always put together the most delectable meals.

Tonight, you decided to take on that role.

Gojo managed to keep Nanami distracted enough with their own party which gave you enough time to put together the spread of dinner. You sliced up fresh bread that you picked up from his favorite bakery, prepared homemade garlic oil which you used to cook down pieces of steak, and assembled a hearty salad.

The look of appreciation on Nanami’s face was more than enough to make you happy.

Content and stuffed with delicious food, you can’t help but admire him as he holds Hiroki’s cheek. The comparison of their size shows you how much time has already passed. Your son was no longer a tiny bundle with a pink nose wrapped up in a little blanket, he was growing into a whole new form of cuteness. He laughs with comprehension, and looks at you and Nanami with a recognition that reassures his safety.

“Da da da da…” he sings mindlessly, and Nanami chuckles as he swipes his thumb over Hiroki’s cheek to pick up a streak of pink buttercream.

“He’s covered in frosting,”

Your eyes immediately drop to your ex-husband’s lips, and you can’t help but tuck the bottom of your mouth between your teeth as you watch him suck off the frosting from the pad of his finger.

Your stomach coils, a tight band forming deep in your core, it’s so easy for you to get wound up whenever you’re around him, but lately that feeling has been much harder to fight off.

You sink your fork into your half-eaten piece of cake, picking up a tiny amount of vanilla sponge and moving it closer to your son. “Hiroki, you want another bite?” you ask, but you watch as he scrunches his nose in disdain.

His big, curious eyes catch the pretty color bordering the sponge, and he mindlessly reaches his fingers onto the plate to grab a fistful of cream.

“Ah! Hiroki!” you laugh playfully, as you pull the plate away and place it down onto the coffee table, denying him a second chance to do the same thing with his other hand.

“We should probably get him cleaned up…”

He’s already devouring the buttercream, and a deep, rumbling laughter erupts from right next to you.

“He’s fine,” Nanami shrugs off, lightly pushing his son’s blonde locks away from his face.

“Yeah, but I don’t want these sticky fingers getting all over your presents…” you insist.

You stand up from your seat and reach your arms out to grab Hiroki, but to your surprise Nanami simply gets up from the couch as well.

“Alright, my darling, you heard your mother…let’s get you cleaned up…”

He follows you into the kitchen. You immediately turn on the faucet to the sink, checking to make sure that the temperature is neither too hot or cold. Nanami leans forward, keeping his thumb and index finger around Hiroki’s wrist and directing it towards the water.

He rinses off the mess while you look around for some hand towels, to which your husband informs you that there are some extra ones folded in the bottom drawer.

You reach down to grab them, but by the time you return upright you see that your son has already found another way to dry off his wet little hands. He’s smoothing it all over Nanami’s blue shirt, leaving damp patches across his chest.

“Mama!” Hiroki calls out, turning his body within Nanami’s grasp to reach for you.

You press your mouth together as you look at your former lover with sympathy, but he nonchalantly just shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess he’s done with me now that he’s dried himself off”

You place the hand towel back on the counter, and carry your son in your arms. He flashes you the most angelic expression in the world, a look of such innocence that makes it impossible for you to hide your smile. You press you forehead against his own, and leave a peck on the button of his nose.

“Ready to give your daddy his present?”

Nanami leans his hip against the counter, keeping only a short distance of space between you both. You don’t have to face him to know that that he’s looking at you both with eyes dipped in pure devotion because you can feel the sheer intensity of his gaze from standing right where you are.

“Dinner, cake, and now presents? I’m truly a spoiled man today…”

You gaze at him from underneath your lashes, aware that you’re allowing your heart to speak on your behalf before replying, “you deserve to be spoiled, Ken”

He takes another step closer, narrowing the gap, and your entire body tenses up. You breathe in the faint scent of his lingering cologne, a fragrance of smoked wood and spicy herbs, and for whatever reason you can’t stop thinking about pressing yourself into the source.

“Alright,” he teases with flirtatious grin, “spoil me.”

The three of you are soon back on the couch, with Hiroki seated comfortably on your lap.“The first present is from Hiroki,” you announce as you pass the gift towards your husband, “he even wrapped it up himself.”

“I can see that,” Nanami acknowledges and starts to peel away at the messily folded paper to reveal the what is underneath.

The ceramic plate is hand painted. In the middle was the palm print of Hiroki’s right hand, and the detailing consisted of uneven brushstrokes in various colors. You spent a whole hour with your son to guide him with the design, practicing the motion of how to paint over and over again. Nanami smoothed his finger over his son’s imprint, focusing specifically on the letters right in the center which read: “I love you”.

“My, my, Hiroki…” he beams with pride, but his ears were turning pink knowing whose true hand wrote those words. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talents…”

His son smiles despite not quite comprehending his father’s sentiment. Nanami leans down to kiss his cheek, before leaving a second on the top of his head.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous to give him your gift but your hands tremble slightly as you pick it up, and a spark of electricity bolts up your left arm when he deliberately brushes his fingers on yours as he takes it from your hand.

“I know you have a whole stockpile of gifts to go through, but this is another that you can add to the list. You don’t have to open it now, you can save it for later if you like-”

Nanami unravels the tiny ribbon wrapped in the center, “it’s okay, I don’t mind opening it now.”

Your hands clasp themselves around Hiroki’s belly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you keep your eyes focused on his face in anticipation of his reaction.

Nanami holds the vinyl record in his hand, his brows lifting almost instantly.

“You always mentioned how much you loved collecting cds when you were in teenager, and that you wanted to invest in having your own record collection one day. So, I thought this might be a good place to start! I remembered you saying that this band in particular was your favorite, so I wanted to make sure to get one by them…”

“This,” he interjects quietly, “This is a very rare vinyl…it’s not easy to get your hands on an original…”

Your cheeks grow hot, “yeah, well, it took me a while to find it but the search was worth it!”

“This is very sweet of you…”

Your mouth stretches from ear to ear, your cheeks pinching with delight. “I’m so happy you like it, Ken!”

When he looks at you this time, you’re completely captivated by the warm tones of his eyes and slight dilation of his pupils. His attention dips to your parted lips, before returning back to meet your heated stare.

He places the vinyl carefully onto the counter.

“I love the present,” he confesses, “I loved the cake, the dinner, having you both here…everything was…perfect.”

“Good, good,” you nod with approval, all the while trying to ignore your throat suddenly feeling tight. “You know, when I ran into you last week, I was genuinely worried that I might have given it all away…”

“Right, when you introduced me to Matsuda…”

His face grows sullen, and you’re caught off guard by his sudden indignation. Just as he found a moment to get a closer, Nanami decides in these fleeting seconds to pull himself away. He clears his throat as he shifts down, “thank you so much for the gifts,” he repeats with a stiff tone, “I think I’ll just get a head start with cleaning up…”

You look at him peculiarly, unsure of what triggered your handsome ex to shut down so suddenly around you.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can do that-”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he harshly remarks, but the way he cuts off you makes you crinkle your eyes in frustration.

“Wait a minute,” you shoots your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m not-I’m not in a rush to leave or anything…”

Nanami shrugs off your touch and it feels like a slap to the wrist.

"It's alright," he adds, "I don't want to intrude on you if you have other plans..."

Confusion gets the best of you, you can't seem to figure out what exactly set him off so quickly. You know this man well enough that you can tell that he's visibly upset, except he's doing everything in his power to hide it from you.

He picks up the plates on the coffee table before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

You glance down at Hiroki for some level of consolation, but your son just looks back up at you with equal uncertainty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You settle Hiroki onto his play mat before making your way over to a very disgruntled Nanami. Your brain replays the last five minutes to decipher what it was you said that set him off, and you slide your hands into the back pocket of your jeans as you hesitantly approach him in the kitchen.

He's placing dishes into the sink, the warm light illuminating his face and highlighting the tips of his sharp cheekbones. You can see the twinge in his jaw, notice the tight knot of tension resting between his brows as he keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Ken?" you speak softly, a wary smile forming on your lips. "What's wrong?"

He stops what he's doing, his hands reaching the edge of the counter and he squeezes the surface until his knuckles turn white. He's still trying to keep a level ahead, drawing out another exhale until he finally motivates himself to face you.

His eyes darken and your body shivers.

"Is this supposed to be test?"

"Test?"

"You need more proof to see how far I'll go just to make you happy?"

"What proof? I don't even know what you're talking about-"

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing upright before taking two long strides to close the gap of space so he's looking down right at you.

"We're just going to sit here and pretend like I didn't interrupt you on a date with your dear friend, Matsuda-san..."

"Date?!" you blurt in shock, taking in your ex lovers odd accusation with full surprise. "Kento-"

He folds his arms over his broad chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

"Look, I get it. We aren't together anymore, but you're still...very, very Important to me. I regard you so highly..."

"As do I-"

"I haven't asked anything of you in all this, not a single thing. I've said yes to whatever it is you have asked me. I did that all for your sake, not mine. The least I expected was some decency in return, and for you to be honest with me when you decided to jump into another relationship..."

"Kento!" you call out, reaching your hands up to his cheeks to stop him from rambling on any further.

The act renders him silent.

"I'm not...I'm not dating Matsuda," you state with a slight laugh like it's the most comical idea to cross your mind. "As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing anyone right now...I...I haven't even considered the idea...."

"But last week..." he insists with a panic that makes your chest ache.

You drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Kento, I asked you to watch over Hiroki because I was trying to sort this out," you clarify, glancing your eyes towards the party decorations and the entire set up that you had worked so hard to put together. "You never go to the bakery on a Wednesday, so I thought it would the perfect time to reserve all the stuff that I needed. I ran into Matsuda while I was there. The last time I saw him was when we...when I agreed to have dinner with him..."

Nanami breathes in softly, steadying himself as he hangs on attentively to every word that you have to say.

"Matsuda couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. I was about to decline his offer of walking me home when you showed up, and I...I really didn't expect to run into you. I overreacted because I was worried that you might catch onto my little plan. I just came up with a random excuse to lead you off the trail. I didn't..."

You sigh with remorse, shifting to look up at your ex from underneath your lashes as you finally piece together the source of his contention.

"I didn't even realize how that must have looked to you. I'm so sorry, Kento. I would never do anything to hurt you like that. Ever. You're too...you're too important me...and all I was thinking about...all I wanted to do was to make your birthday special for you. I really wasn't giving Matsuda any consideration..."

A wave of relief washes over him, all the while you can't stop thinking about how cute he looks all flustered.

"Shit," he murmurs, bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. "I feel like an idiot..."

You purse your lips into another small grin, "you're not an idiot, it's just a misunderstanding..."

He stays silent for a moment, returning his sights back on you as he nips at his bottom lip.

"I'm...I'm never going to be okay with it..." he boldly admits, his voice dropping another octave as two hands settle against your sides. "I'll tolerate everything else between us, but I'll never be okay watching you move on with somebody else..."

His words make your heart shrivel like a piece of fruit bathing underneath the golden sun. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the band in your belly twists into another knot.

When you part your lips to say something, no words come out.

"Are you really that shocked?" he questions, clenching his hands around the waistband of your jeans. "Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if you saw me with someone else?"

You feel a catch in your throat. You don't want to admit how often you've thought about it, considered what he does in his spare time when you and Hiroki weren't in the picture. Whenever your mind spirals with the idea that he was with another woman, it would bring tears to your eyes every. single. time.

"I don't even like thinking about it," you disclose, your voice cracking slightly as your throat goes dry.

"I guess," he whispers, tugging you forward so that you were both now chest to chest, "we can at least agree on one thing..."

Your hands trail to his pecs, your eyes growing heavy as you feel the weight of his forehead press tenderly onto yours. His fingers find your chin, the featherlight touch tilting it only slightly upward so your lips can brush over his.

He doesn't stop himself this time, doesn't consider the laundry list of reasons as to why this will only complicate things further. He's tired of this divorce, tired of not having you around, so fucking tired of not kissing you whenever his heart desires-

So, he presses his mouth delicately down onto yours and throws caution to the wind.

Your knees buckle, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as your eyes fall close like you've been cast under a spell. A surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins, making your body buzz from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. You can feel Nanami's heart race from beneath your palm just as he parts his lips to invite you to taste him even further and you can't help but sing sweetly into the kiss as you allow your tongue to slip through.

"hmph, Ken," you mumble, attempting to draw your spit slicked lips away but the man simply captures you back with ease.

He can hear the resistance in your voice, but there was no way he was letting you go that easily again.

"Stay the night," he requests with a gentle snag of your bottom lip.

Your shaky arms circle around his neck, your body melting into him as he daringly draws his hand from your lower back to dive straight into the back pocket of your jeans.

With a kiss to the corner of your mouth he follows up his demand with a loving "please?"

"I don't know...mmph," you sigh, but in between Nanami interrupts you with another peck.

"I don't know..." you repeat again under your breath, only this time you find yourself searching for his mouth.

The exchange carries on, light smacks and tender licks distracting you both and Nanami drops his other hand to circle around your throat.

The blood rushes between his legs feeling the vibrating flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers.

"Hiroki's staying" he insists as he nuzzles the tip of his nose over yours. "We'll have some more cake, get him ready for bed, and then you and I..."

Your fingers thread between the strands of his blonde hair, your neck falling to the side as he travels to the spot that makes you go weak.

"can keep talking."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

regarding ex husband nanami requests - requests for this series are still open, I feel like I'm building the story with you guys so I'll keep it that way until it's complete. please note that not all requests will be fulfilled - I do get some that are quite similar so I'm selecting based off of how the story progresses xo

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

let know if you would liked to be tagged! x

@hisheadismountfuji @clara-geekhime @moonmalice @bibemiiu @nutheadgeenat @satoruhour @i-be-teff

[obeymematches]

MC acting oblivious!

since you're accepting hcs now, how about an mc whos a big tease/bully (aka mammons worst nightmare lol)? im quick to realize when someone has a crush on me and when i like them back i turn into the biggest tease on earth until the other person confesses. im good at acting oblivious so its always "wait, they cant possibly know i like them, right??" poor, poor souls lmao. so im wondering how the brothers+undateables would handle an mc like that! keep up the great work! 💕

Hi, good to see you again !!! <3 

okay i love this so much lets go ! 

Lucifer: 

Okay so in his case it’s mentioned several times that he is in love with the MC so this ain’t just some crush he’s being teased about but that’s one of the reasons why he loves you so much.  

He is rather guarded emotianlly as his pride isn’t going to let him just fall for anyone. But once he does he is not going to deny it!  

Lucifer is someone who will ask you out on a date without a warning. The only thing you might notice beforehead is that he spends suspiciously lots of his time with you. (by a lot in his case I mean something in between 30 and 60 mins every second day. he’s a busy man) 

Him: My schedule is tight today but I would like to spend time with you, MC, would you care to join me at a confectionary?  MC: sounds like you’re very busy, are you sure about that? 🥺 Him,  slightly offended but still lovingly: Yes, MC. Let me express myself better... would you please have a date with me today? MC: oh....um-

Mammon:

● oh god, oh jesus, oh no

● We all know The Great Mammon has a hard time admitting his feelings out loud, with words, bluntly.

● So the way I see it, the situation is about to be Awkward As Hell.

● Mammon is clearly sweating, butterflies occupying his entire stomach, he fiddles with his nails.

● Him: So MC, I was thinking- I mean I'm thinking- wanna go skating with me tonight?

MC: Oh that's a very romantic idea- but I think friends don't just go skating, you know.

Him: Friends??! I don't wanna be just your friend MC-

You: Then? Then what?

Him: Goddamn I- I just want to be yours- Jesus ya are makin' it so difficult MC, it is not easy as is!!

Leviathan:

● ahh the frustrated face he makes through this conversation isn't just a facade. He really is stressing right now.

● Him: MC.... there is something I must tell you. And you only. Please listen and don't tell anyone!

MC: Don't worry Levi, I too hate people who gossip-

Him: No it's not like that. I have a desire in my heart that I must share with you as you are the most special person I ever met and I can only hope you feel the same way for me and- I feel so embarassed but I've been meaning to ask you this- would you be my partner? My player 2?

MC: well if you wanted me to play you could have just said so like you always do-

Levi: What?? Is that what you understood? No MC you don't get it! Ahhh I knew I shouldn't have asked you my chances with you are close to zero-

MC: Wait Levi I'm so sorry-

Satan:

● You could tell he was acting different these past couple of days. He was texting you more, he offered to spend more time with you- it was obvious he likes you.

● He knocked on your bedroom door and as you liked him just as much as he liked you, of course you let him in.

● I think you acting like you don't know what's going on turns him on? Like he know you ain't stupid. He knows you like him at least a little bit too, otherwise he wouldn't be here talking with you.

● Him: So MC, are you free now?

MC: Well, it depends on how you define "free" I think.

Him: Oh quit it please.

MC: I would if I knew what you were up to right now-

Him: Alright. You are going to make it more complicated, I see. In this case, meet me at 4PM at the common room. Please. I'd like to take you on a date if you're free.

MC: Inside the house? Weird if you ask me-

Him: ...... you are right actually. Let's meet at the park then. Don't be late.

Asmo:

● Again he would absolutely love you acting like you noticed nothing when he couldn't be more clear about what he wants.

● He knows this game though & he is quicker than you are.

● Him, cuddling you: So MC I have been thinking about us....what are we?

● MC: We are.... the best. Me, a human, and you, a demon.

Him: Nooooo, you know that's not what I meant!!!

MC: Well I don't know what you mean Asmo. Aren't we though?

Him: Aren't we what? A human and a demon?? Ahhhhg stop playing with me MC!

Beelzebub:

● Ohh babe is going to believe you actually don't know what' going on-

● I think he'd find it funny when he realizes you were just acting like such-

Him: MC. I like you.

MC: Okay, I like you too. That's why I'm your friend.

Him: Yes we are friends I know... but to me you are the first person I want to talk to if anything happens, good or bad... you are on my mind all the time, no matter what- I haven't felt like this in my entire life- you are the most special person to me, MC.

MC: Ohhh... I didn't realize-

Him: I only went out with Mammon yesterday because I thought... I was hoping you'd be there to, that you'd join... I just wanted to spend more time with you. But you weren't there. Let's go somewhere together today- I mean, if you want to-

Belphegor:

● MC you are about to annoy him to deatg to be fair.

● Depending on his mood he might join you though!!!

Him: So human- I mean MC. Let's hang out today.

MC: We already do.

Him: I meant as a date, stop playing stupid.

MC: I don't like being called stupid. Is this how you are asking me out on a date??

Him: See I knew you knew what I meant!

MC: Why would you ask me on a date though, aren't we just friends?

Him: .....

Him: We could change that- I want to be your one and only.

MC: Well if you are my one and only friend I might get lonely when you're too busy for me though-

Him: Stop it don't say another word. Are you coming today or not? MC? You listening?

MC: you just asked me to shut up-