#there are good times but they never last long enough

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.” “I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

“i-i know, honey, i’ll give you all of it, stuff you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[jasmineoolongtea]

― i like the way you kiss me . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

― the ways in which they kiss you when you aren't actually together yet ₊˚⊹♡

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn! reader, choso x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, slightly suggestive for some of them if you squint a/n: just some headcanons i wanted to write after listening to i like the way you kiss me by artemas plus i needed a short writing break from my risk - megumi fic that i've been working on. hope you guys enjoy this !!!

gojo satoru kisses you like he misses you already despite barely being apart for more than a few hours. it didn't matter to him that he just saw you moments ago. that was nothing more than a trivial fact to him, just like the fact that you two still weren't actually together yet, in the grand scheme of things. why should he be waiting any second longer to feel your touch on him? he was never good at being patient anyways.

"missing me already huh?" you murmur against his lips, his hands securing you against him as he pinned you against the brick wall of the restaurant behind you two.

he scoffs at your comment. "oh shut up." his lips are on yours again in a matter of second. you weren't going to lie, you were enjoying this. to see someone so powerful like gojo satoru yet so susceptible to your presence to the point where he couldn't wait anymore to have your lips against his. with his flushed cheeks and slightly puffy lips, you want to forever immortalise this image of him in your mind. silently, you thanked whatever was out there that he decided to forgo his sunglasses tonight as their absence allowed you to truly appreciate the beauty of his eyes, even being able to notice the tiniest specks of what appeared to be gold in his pupils.

as he tilts his head to the side to better fit his features against yours, you swear you can feel his every breath with how flushed his chest is against yours. you even earn a soft groan from him when your fingers dance across his undercut, taking your time to run your hands through his snowy locks.

you're glad that his eyes are closed right now, getting a ticklish sensation as his long eyelashes kiss the expanses of your cheeks with the slight flutter of his eyes so that he isn't able to notice how the red blush that was once contained on your face has now expanded outwards to the tip of your eyes. he bites at your bottom lip gently, as if asking for permission to go further and you grant his request with a faint gasp of your own.

"noisy, aren't we?"

"oh shut up."

geto suguru kisses you like you're his already. the way he snakes his arms around your waist and presses his lips against yours only makes you sink further into his touch. if he wasn't holding you up right now, you would probably melt into the floor just from his proximity alone. you've been dancing around the issue for a few months now, fleeting touches in a dark room, longing glances across the room. it was all fun and games for both of you, seeing how long you could drag out this game of teasing and temptation until the other had enough. you thought you were doing pretty well. that is, until he decided to show up here again and well, just imagine the feeling of his lips against yours wasn't enough anymore.

you've always wondered what it would feel like to card your hands through his raven tresses and now, with your fingers tangled in up there, you can safely say it was better than you could have ever imagined. if it wasn't you who was the one messing up his hair, he would have some choice words to say about it, but as of right now, that was the least of his concerns. right now, his priority was seeing how long it would take for him to become consumed by his desire for you and it seemed like he wasn't going to last long. not with how you would let out a low whine every time his teeth grazed your lips or with your wandering hands taking this opportunity to explore the expanses of his well-sculpted back.

you feel like you've just had your breath stolen from you with how heavily you were panting against him, your faces flushed with want and kiss-swollen lips as evidence of what had recently transpired between the two of you. neither of you make the move to break apart as he leans down to ask.

"so what does this make us?"

nanami kento kisses you with so much restraint it only incites you to try and break down his defences further. his kisses barely feel like pecks, leaving you to subconsciously chase him for more every time he pulls away. he doesn't dare to try and do more, to push the boundary further. not only are you not technically together yet but also he's afraid. not of you, but rather of what would happen if he let his resolve fall and indulged in his selfish desires for what would be the first time in a long while.

he stops for a moment, his face barely hovering centimetres above from yours as his eyes flicker between your slightly agape mouth and your half-lidded eyes, watching him closely as you try to anticipate his next. he couldn't tell which one was drawing him in more at that moment. his breath hitches momentarily when he feels a soft tug at his tie, your right hand absent-mindedly toying with the edges of it as you place your other hand against his chest as if attempting to brace yourself against him. he couldn't tell but your legs felt like they were about to give out at any second with how every single cell in your body felt electrified with the amount of desire and anxiety coursing through your veins.

silence dragged on for what felt like ages, both of you unmoving in your positions until you muttered under your breath. "kento..." your voice was barely above a whisper but at that moment, it turns out that he was not as strong in his resolve as he thought he was with that being all he needed to dive right into you, fully untethered this time as his lips crashed against yours.

kamo choso kisses you like he's scared that this will be the first and last time he'll ever get to do so. there's so much fear and hesitation in his movements yet at the same time, you can feel the fervour and passion that is pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against you. his hands are hovering around your figure, scared to fully let himself hold you as if he's worried that the moment he makes contact, you're going to snap out of whatever daze you're in and run away from him. you aren't going to do that of course, if only he knew how long you were waiting for this to happen. as you feel the cold of the concrete wall against your back, the two of you part, albeit reluctantly, from each other to catch your breaths.

"..are you sure?" he asks breathlessly. his pupils are blown wide open as his eyes seemingly turn into infinite purple voids, watching your every movement unblinking.

you run your fingers across the back of his neck, toying slightly with some of the loose black strands that were clinging to his skin. he looks pretty like this, you think to yourself. he looks at you so eagerly, so soft and pliable in your hands, as he nervously awaits for your response.

"never been more sure."

fushiguro megumi kisses you like you're the air he breathes. who would have thought someone so famously reserved like megumi had it in him like this? you aren't given long to ponder on that thought as his lips are against yours once again, moving in sync with an imaginary rhythm as you frenziedly grasp at the material of his shirt in a weak attempt to try and ground you against his closeness to you. with every slide of his lips past yours, you're pretty sure that he's simultaneously taking and giving you back your breath which you previously thought would be impossible to do but are now sorely proven wrong.

you're not even a lightweight or anything when it comes to alcohol but you're pretty sure you're drunk on the feeling of him the moment his mouth was on yours. much to your surprise, the spikes that he calls his hair are actually pretty soft as you run your hands through them, a soft tug at the hair beneath your fingers drawing out a barely disguised groan from him. you giggle softly against his lips at his reaction and he silences you with another kiss, not that you were complaining as you ardently respond by tilting your head off to the side slightly to grant him better access to your face. your eyes are closed but you can imagine the half-hearted scowl on his face with how his brows furrow in the way that they always do against your forehead.

even though it was barely minutes ago, your mind is hazy as you try to remember the circumstances that led to this situation right now. it was probably a stupid argument that you guys got into, like the two of you usually do, and somehow that resulted in him wanting to prove his point more unconventionally. you give up on trying to recall the details as you can feel your face start to burn up as one of his hands start to wander down to rest against your hips.

"so," he pants, the heat of his breath is warm against your lips. "does that prove my point?"

itadori yuji kisses you eagerly, trying to savour every single moment of his lips against yours. you could feel the excitement basically pouring out from him with each movement of his lips against you, even eliciting a giggle from him that reverberates against your mouth as your noses bump against each other. it's a messy, disorganised sort of kiss with you being sure this is the third time you've accidentally grazed your teeth against his. fortunately for both of you, you're all way too engrossed and intoxicated on the sensation of the other's lips to care.

every time one of you tries to catch your breath, the other tries to chase your lips as they attempt to recapture that feeling again. as your arms encircle his neck, pulling you close to him, you're pretty sure you can feel him groan quietly against your lips with his hands reaching up to cup your face. with a deep sigh, you sink into his warm embrace, taking the moment to fully breathe him in like your life depended on it.

one of his hands falls from your face and gives a tentative squeeze at your waist to which you gasp quietly. taking this opportunity, he breaks apart from your lips and presses a flurry of kisses across your face which earns him a wide grin from you as you half-heartedly attempt to defend yourself from his sudden kiss attacks.

if you knew that a simple, experimental peck on the cheek could earn you this, maybe you should try to do this more.

okkotsu yuuta kisses you like you're a dream come true. hear him out. he never thought that he would get to experience touch like this ever again in his life, nevermind it coming from you in this manner. to him, you were what sweet dreams were made of, so ethereal, so delicate and so much better than whatever could exist in such a cruel world like this. but once again, defying all his expectations, you were here right in front of him and your lips were on his, faster than in the blink of an eye.

cradling the back of your head with his hands, he leans into the feeling of your lips against his as the two of you move in sync with each other. as if the moment couldn't get better, it was as if your lips were perfectly moulded for his or vice versa. he didn't care which way it was, all this fact did was solidify the thought in his mind that you were sent down onto earth from whatever heavenly plane people like you come from just for him to bask in the presence of.

his eyes are closed for two reasons. one, because he's scared that if he opens his eyes, this will be nothing more than a dream that he has to wake up from and two because he's pretty sure that if he was able to see you in your flushed, kiss dazed glory, he would explode on the spot.

despite being able to tell how badly he's been wanting to kiss you, he doesn't let it overpower him, instead taking the upmost care to make sure that you were still unharmed, treating you as if you were some piece of delicate china that could break at the slightest of wrong moves. while it was nice, you were feeling particularly greedy in that moment. you wanted more.

right as he breaks apart for air, you're already back to pulling him closer than humanly possible at this point by the collar of his shirt and you find that you're rewarded with a soft gasp escaping from him as your lips find each other again, this time with a renewed sense of desire and want.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 10 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After just two days back home, Bradley takes you on a second date. He wants more, and you don't seem to mind when he can't keep his hands and lips to himself.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being boyfriend material

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Shit."

It had been such a long time since Bradley wore anything other than a flight suit, a khaki uniform or gym clothes, he had no idea what he was supposed to wear to dinner tonight. You mentioned weeks ago you thought Italian food sounded nice for a second date, and he agreed wholeheartedly. He managed to snag a table for the two of you at Salvatore's, and he was absolutely prepared to drop over five hundred bucks, but his clothing was becoming a situation.

After spending the entire day with you yesterday, Saturday morning was a bit of a reality check. He was trying to work through three loads of laundry while he sorted through a box of mail. There was nothing sweet in there like the packages you and your class sent to him while he was deployed. It was mostly bills that had already been automatically paid online, mortgage statements, and junk. Then he started folding laundry, somehow expecting some articles of clothing that weren't threadbare tee shirts or tropical print button downs to jump out at him.

"Why don't you have normal clothing?" he asked himself as he picked up his phone now that it was late enough to text you. He wanted to make sure you were okay with grabbing a drink before the dinner reservation which wasn't until 7:45. But when he unlocked his phone, instead of zero new messages, he found a picture you sent seven minutes ago. 

"Oh my god," he groaned softly, dropping onto his bed next to some unfolded laundry. You were in your own bed wearing his favorite sweatshirt and a bright smile.

Good morning, Handsome. Last night felt like a dream, but your sweatshirt is real, so it must have happened.

He scrambled to write back, clothing crisis forgotten. God, he wanted to be in that bed in the worst way. Things would definitely get out of hand pretty quickly, but he knew those first few kisses would be the sweetest things. After last night at the beach, waiting for a few more dates was going to be the challenge of his life, but he wanted you to know he was in this for the long haul. Especially after you mentioned that you thought he may have ghosted you.

Hey, Gorgeous. My sweatshirt looks way better on you than it ever did on me. Did you sleep in it?

He hit send and then wished he hadn't asked that question. He sounded like a horny twenty year old. It was bad enough that he had to practically beg you to go inside your apartment last night while you were kissing his neck, but he didn't want to embarrass himself.

Of course I did. It smells like you. The only thing better would be having you in my bed, too...

How the hell was he supposed to wait until this evening to see you? He tossed his phone aside. His blood felt like it was on fire, and he was sweating. Never before had he wanted to move this fast from a first date to making things official. But he knew you. He'd been working up to this point for months. And the Thai dinner with Prosecco on the beach wasn't really a first date. That felt closer to a reunion with a girlfriend than anything else. The only thing missing for that to have been true was a sleepover instead of him taking you home for the night. 

He was too many steps ahead right now. You hadn't yet done the drive down to Coronado from Mira Mesa for yourself, but he already caught himself wondering if you'd consider moving in with him in the future. "You need to relax," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You'll scare her away." He cracked his neck and forced himself to fold a stack of underwear before picking up his phone to reply.

I don't want to rush things, but your bed does look very comfortable. I'm confident we could get cozy there... You're making me blush. I need to get this conversation back on track. Cocktails before dinner at Salvatore's? I'll pick you up at 5:30?

A few minutes later, you responded with a photo of you still all snuggled up in bed, smiling and giving him a thumbs up in his shirt.

--------------------------

"Just in case," you muttered, making sure your bedding was straightened and your room was tidy. You left Bradley's TOP GUN sweatshirt folded on your pillow, but you certainly wouldn't mind having the man himself in your bed tonight. Your fingers and toes tingled when you thought about it. You bit your lip and scooped up his shirt, inhaling his scent one more time before you realized he would be here any minute.

When he knocked on your door, you set it back on your pillow and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you bounced past it. Cocktails and dinner at Salvatore's would have been a major splurge for a night out for you, but Bradley selected the restaurant. All you did was mention Italian food, and he really ran with it. You'd have been happy with some pizza and breadsticks, simply excited he remembered you mentioned Italian food at all, but this called for your littlest black dress and your brightest red lipstick. 

"I'm coming!" you called, going as fast as you could in your black heels, giggling at the double meaning. You had to compose yourself before you could open the door, and when you did, you were met with the actual man of your dreams.

"Hey, Gorgeous." Bradley's crooked little smile faltered a bit as his gaze slid down from your eyes to your lips, but he didn't stop there. He was shamelessly checking you out as a pretty shade of pink crept up into his cheeks, and you did a slow turn for him. 

Your skin felt warm as you met his eyes after doing a full circle. His lips were parted as you whispered, "Hi," and reached for his hand. As soon as your skin met his, he pulled you closer to him. "Bradley." His lips were on yours as he backed you up into your apartment until you softly met the wall behind you. He was big and warm, and you were holding his left hand while his right one came up to your face.

He broke the kiss by tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he crooned softly. Your lipstick was smudged along his mouth, and his tongue darted out to taste it before he said, "I'm fucking crazy about you."

His rough thumb dragged along your bottom lip as you said, "And you've never even seen me dispose of a spider for you."

"Baby," he rasped. "I'd probably propose."

A shocked giggle escaped you, and his crooked grin was back as he kept you there against your wall with your door wide open. You reached up and ran your fingers along the collar of his oxford shirt before tugging on the fabric until his lips were on yours again. You let your head tip back against the wall as he devoured you, tasting your lips, tongue and teeth before his forehead came to rest gently on yours.

"You know," you gasped, trying to catch your breath, "I thought all your emails were sweet and romantic."

He chuckled as he pulled away from you. "I was hoping I was doing okay in person, too."

You shrugged playfully and tried to spin out of his grasp, but his hand was still wrapped up in yours. He followed you to your coffee table so you could grab your purse as you casually told him, "You're even better in person than I thought you'd be."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pulling you close again. "You like my stupid looking clothes and how I can eat three meals for dinner?"

He was so endearing, you didn't know how to handle him. So you kissed him again and whispered, "I like all of it." You let your fingers trail along his shirt buttons as you said, "You look nice in this, but I can already tell you're more comfortable in your colorful Aloha shirts and jeans. And I love that you can eat three meals for dinner, because we ended up sharing everything last night."

"Let's go," he coaxed, leading you toward your door. "I'll let you pick whatever you want to try at Salvatore's. I don't usually like sharing my food, but there's just something about you, Gorgeous. You make me feel comfortable."

-------------------------

You tried to tell Bradley twice that he still had some of your lipstick smudged on his face, but he just shrugged and said, "Good," in response both times. If he didn't mind, then neither did you. It couldn't be any more obvious that he was with you when the exact color that was on your lips was also on his. You listened to him hum along to the retro oldies station as he merged onto the coastal highway while you took a minute to fix up your own smudged lipstick.

He grinned over at you as you put your makeup away and said, "Come on, Baby. If you didn't want it on my face, then you wouldn't be putting more on your lips."

Every time he made a bold statement like that, you wanted to cancel dinner altogether and take him to your bedroom. "I never said I didn't want it on your face. It looks good." 

He reached out blindly for your hand, and you grabbed his immediately. "You did tell me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

"Yeah," you muttered. "Don't stop doing that." You knew things with him were going to get physical pretty quickly, but you'd never been quite this attracted to someone before. You drew little shapes on his palm as you asked, "How was your first night back in your own bed after so many months away?"

He groaned softly. "Epic. Fantastic. I don't fit very well in an extra long twin bed."

"No, I would imagine you don't," you said with a laugh as you watched him drive his Bronco in the evening sunlight.

He licked his lips and grinned as he said, "Would have been better if you were there though."

The eruption of butterflies in your belly left you biting your lip. You wanted to respond, but you needed to be able to make it through dinner before you were hanging off of him again like you were last night. That's when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, treating you to his mustache there. "Feel like getting a drink or two in the lounge first? Maybe a bottle of wine?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, ready to go anywhere he took you. As soon as he parked, he jogged around to help you down, letting you slide against his body with your hands on his shoulders. You wobbled a bit in your shoes, but he kept you steady.

"You good?" he asked as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as his arm wrapped around your waist.

"So good," you promised. "Never better."

Bradley kept his hand right there on your hip as he led you along the sidewalk toward the restaurant. The lounge was packed; this was definitely a popular weekend date night locale. Couples filled the space with noisy conversation, but you could hear Bradley perfectly as his lips found your ear when he said, "There's an empty stool at the far end of the bar." He gave your hip a little squeeze as you headed for it, and he leaned on the bar next to you. "Why don't you pick out a bottle of wine or whatever you want? I'll go let the hostess know we'll be hanging out in the lounge."

When you agreed, he kissed your lips like the two of you had been at this for years, not just since yesterday. You weren't the only one who watched him walk away in his snug pants and Oxford shirt that somehow showed off his biceps. He was just that good looking. When you saw him without a shirt on, you'd probably faint and need him to revive you. When the bartender came over, you were chuckling to yourself at the idea of having sex with Bradley while he kept his shirt on to save you from that fate.

"Can I get you a drink?"

You looked at him in a daze, realizing you meant to choose a bottle of wine. You blurted out what kind you liked best, and with a nod and a smile, he turned to fill your request. And that's when you finally looked at the menu and realized the bottle was more than a hundred and fifty dollars.

"Oh shit." But it was too late. He had already opened it and was heading your way with it. You scrambled in your purse for your wallet, cringing at the idea of Bradley seeing the bill when you could have simply ordered a cocktail instead. Just as the bartender was pouring out a bit of the wine for you to try, you found your credit card successfully. And that was also when Bradley came back.

"They'll come get us when our table's ready," he said. "I told them it would be easy to find me since my date is the most beautiful woman in the restaurant." He watched the bartender pick up a second glass and said, "Oh perfect, you found some wine that you like."

You nodded and tried your best to pass your credit card across the bar undetected with your hand covering it. "I sure did."

Bradley's eyes followed your hand as he took a sip of the wine. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you told him, picking up your own glass with your other hand. You tasted the wine and nodded at the bartender, and then he filled up both glasses while Bradley reached for your credit card.

"That's not necessary, Gorgeous. You can put that away."

You waited until the bartender walked off before you shook your head. "Let me pay for the wine. I was distracted and just picked a random bottle before I looked at the price, and then it was too late because he already had it opened. It's expensive."

Bradley looked completely unfazed as he eased your card from your hand and tucked it back into your wallet. "I don't care about that."

"I do," you said softly in your embarrassment. "I don't want you to think that's what I expected."

Bradley laughed in response. "First of all, I would never think that. And second, I was on that aircraft carrier for so long, and this wine tastes so good, and you look so pretty... I don't even want to tell you how much I'd be willing to pay for that bottle of wine and our dinner."

You simultaneously felt better and a little warm. "Okay, fine. But next time we go out for dinner, we're getting burgers from In-N-Out, and I'm paying."

His smile grew as you sipped your wine which really was quite good. "So that means you want to go out again?"

You rolled your eyes up at him where he stood, his hand brushing your knee where it was crossed over your other leg. "I'm about to make an In-N-Out reservation right now."

"Perfect," he replied. "Which night? I have to work late a few days next week to get caught up on everything I missed while I was away."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a laugh. "How about Wednesday?"

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress as he said, "Wednesday's good. You also need to let me know when I can visit your classroom again." His words were so sweet, and his gaze was sincere, but the feel of his fingertips inching along your skin above your knee was something else. 

You set your glass down next to your purse and reached for his hand, letting his fingers slip underneath your dress as you met his brown eyes. When he teased your skin with his rough hands, you reached for his shirt, and Bradley came willingly. Salvatore's didn't provide the two of you with the same level of privacy as the beach last night had, but you didn't really care, and he didn't seem to either.

-----------------------------

You had the softest skin. How was he supposed to keep his hands off you? And that red lipstick made your little pout when he teased you even more delectable than he could have imagined. And he'd been doing plenty of imagining for the last few months. He'd imagined you in a variety of scenarios with him, but so far being with you in person surpassed everything his vivid thoughts came up with.

When he mentioned visiting you at work, you treated him to the silky soft feel of your skin, and then you literally grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged until he was kissing you. Oh god, he was never going to recover from this. He had to wrap his hand around the middle of your thigh to keep himself from going any further as you moaned softly into his mouth. He was absolutely starving and a little dizzy from the wine, but he was thinking about skipping dinner in favor of the solitude of the Bronco right now.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

Your tongue was slowly tasting his when you jerked away from him as the hostess strolled over. Embarrassed, you turned toward the bar as Bradley grunted in response at the young woman who told him the table was ready for the two of you. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because feeling you up in the middle of the crowded lounge wasn't something he'd feel good about later. At least not on the second date. He'd bring you back here in a few months and see if the two of you even made it to dinner.

With a smile, he reached for your free hand after you picked up your glass. You halfway hid your face against his bicep as the hostess picked up the bottle and led the way through the lounge and into the restaurant. Bradley kissed your forehead and murmured, "If I could keep my hands off of you, this wouldn't be a problem."

You peered up at him through your lashes. "Hanging out on your couch alone is sounding better and better."

"Fuck," he groaned softly as you released his hand and took a seat at the table set for two which was overlooking the bay. Bradley pushed your chair in, and his thumbs met your bare arms. He took a few deep breaths before taking the seat opposite yours and accepted one of the menus as he listened to the specials while he looked at your face. He muttered some sort of response, and then the two of you were alone.

You emptied the remainder of the wine between his glass and yours, and then Bradley watched you lick a little droplet from your thumb as you smiled at him. "So which three dinners are you planning on ordering tonight?"

It took him a second to realize that he was holding an open menu even though he hadn't looked at it once. He cleared his throat and said, "Definitely some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I ate spaghetti, it was overcooked and sad, and I had to go back to my bunk and think about you to make myself feel better." You covered your mouth with one hand while you laughed, and it was the most charming thing he'd ever seen. "I'm so serious, Gorgeous. I got a plate of soggy noodles, and literally the only thing that made it better was imagining you teaching your class about military grade jets and aviation."

Your pretty eyes were glittering as you told him, "I keep extending my lessons on the topic, and you are completely to blame for that. After the first time you responded to us, my students asked about you every single day. They are completely enamored with you."

"Yeah? Just them? Or you too?" He knew his words were reminiscent of the way you'd tried to blame it on your kids when you asked him to send you a picture so you could see what he looked like.

"Hmm." You pretended to peruse your menu. "I'm thinking about the ravioli. Or maybe the penne with vodka sauce." Your foot tapped his leg beneath the table, and he had to fight the urge to reach under and touch your skin again. You were teasing him in every way right now, and he was absolutely loving it. When the waiter dropped off glasses of water and some freshly baked bread, he asked if you wanted anything else to drink.

"You want another bottle of wine, Gorgeous?" Bradley asked, deciding to tease you right back.

"Absolutely not," you told him, looking at him like he had two heads before kindly telling the waiter, "No, thank you."

He was still laughing when he picked up a piece of bread. "So we'll get spaghetti, penne and ravioli?"

"You don't have to order what I want," you told him, your foot still running along his calf while your expression dripped with innocence.

"No. I want to though." It was kind of fun spoiling you with something as simple as dinner. Vanessa would have made a comment by now about how much she hated the slightly kitschy, over the top restaurant, even if the food was supposed to be immaculate. You didn't seem to mind one bit that he ordered three massive entrees and intended to finish whatever you didn't. Vanessa always got embarrassed, but all you said was that you were excited to try all three.

There was never a lull in conversation. You actually listened to Bradley when he was talking, and he could have listened to you all night.

"So you know how last night I mentioned... that I'd never really thought about dating someone in the military who deploys for work?"

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, not sure he loved where the conversation was heading.

You looked a little apprehensive as you said, "I was thinking about it more last night after you dropped me off." 

"And?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I think I'd actually be okay with it, as long as it's you. It almost feels like we got some big, scary thing out of the way already, you know? And I could always write to you, because I kind of loved doing that. And yes, Bradley, I am also completely enamored with you."

It was almost a shame that the food arrived then, because as you started to cut into an enormous ravioli, all he could think to say was, "I'm completely enamored with you, too."

-----------------------------

You were so full from dinner, you didn't know how Bradley could walk. He ate at least two times what you did, and then he insisted on ordering a piece of cheesecake. When you caught sight of the bill, you tried not to gasp, because it was more than you spend on groceries for a whole month. But he handed over his credit card and signed his name without even breaking conversation with you. And now you were discreetly grabbing a handful of mints on your way out of the restaurant as he held your hand.

It was late, and you knew he was still tired. He mentioned briefly that he had a lot of chores to do this week amidst some late nights at work, but you didn't know how you'd be able to wait until Wednesday to see him again. When he started up the Bronco and headed in the direction of your apartment, your mind flooded with questions, but he asked you one first.

"I already have plans tomorrow, but I don't think I can wait until Wednesday to see you again. What time do you usually get to school?"

"7:20."

"Okay. And what kind of coffee do you like?"

You couldn't stop smiling as you told him what you usually ordered on the rare occasion you had time to stop at Starbucks. You kind of already felt like he was spoiling you.

"Have you memorized everything I've ever told you?"

"Yep," he replied, his handsome smile evident in the street lights. "And I've gotta say, you're one of a kind, Gorgeous."

You honestly didn't want the ride to end. The fact that there was no buffer of traffic to add to the twenty minute drive made you pout a little bit. Bradley's deep voice layered over the music playing on the radio while he held your hand was intoxicating, but you made a disappointed sound as he parked in front of your building.

When he released your hand to kill the engine in the near darkness, all you could see was his handsome profile. "You thought the drive would be too much for me," you whispered. "But when I'm in the car with you, I don't want it to end."

He cleared his throat and softly said, "Well, we don't have to get out quite yet if you don't want to."

Your pout turned into a grin as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "I can tell you still need to catch up on some sleep. I don't want to keep you out too late, Bradley."

He chuckled and undid his own seatbelt. "Why don't you come a little closer and say my name again."

As you eased yourself onto your hands and knees, you scooted across the seat and whispered, "Bradley," with a little laugh.

"Closer?" he asked, and you crawled over to him until you were able to kiss his cheek.

"Bradley."

He turned his head so his lips met yours, and he whispered, "Closer," against your mouth.

You were immediately in his lap, your hands resting on his chest as the steering wheel met your lower back. Your lips found his scarred cheek just like last night, and you kissed your way along his mustache and the side of his nose. You let your hands drift slowly down over his abs until they met the leather of his belt, and you whispered his name one more time.

His big hands closed around your wrists as he groaned, "You really love teasing me."

You nodded and said, "I really do," as he guided your hands up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"You're really good at it, Baby. All those pictures of you in your bed are enough to get a man through a deployment and then promptly kill him once he's on dry land if he can't touch you immediately."

He kissed the inside of your arm, and you scooted your body a little closer to his. "You can touch me." Your words elicited a deep groan as he slid his big hands along your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed your lips, swiping his tongue against yours as his fingers trailed down your sides. You almost cried out when his thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts before he gently squeezed your waist and your hips.

You could invite him to stay over. You didn't think he'd turn you down if you did. But all you could manage to say was, "Bradley," between kisses.

He tipped his head back against the headrest and whispered, "I love the way that sounds." His eyes were glittering in the darkness as he looked at your face and your body, and you remembered his text message from earlier.

I don't want to rush things

It was hard for you to remember that yesterday in your classroom was the first time you touched him. The first time you heard his voice in person. As much as you wanted to lean in close and ask him to stay, instead you kissed his ear and said, "You promised me movie night on your couch. When?"

"Friday?" he asked, kissing along your neck. "Let me end the week with my Gorgeous girl?"

"Yes."

You were afraid you were going to melt right out onto the pavement when he opened his door, but he helped you down and kept his arm wrapped around you. Bradley walked a half step behind you in the darkness all the way to your apartment. While there was no expectation that he was going to join you inside, you ended up pinned against your door, because it didn't seem like he was quite ready to leave yet either. 

He was eager. You could feel it as his lips found your neck again. He smiled against you as he whispered your name in that deep raspy voice. "Since you don't like surprises, I'm telling you right now that you should expect to see me in the parking lot at your school on Monday morning. Sound okay?"

"Oh god, yes," you whined as he released you. There were so many things you wanted to tell him as he put a foot of space between your bodies, really giving you a chance to see his pink cheeks and the way he was breathing deeply. You blurted out, "I'm falling so hard for you."

His crooked little grin was back as he nodded at your door. "Lock it behind you. And when you get in bed, in my sweatshirt, send me another selfie."

"I will," you promised, and you did exactly what he said. A minute after you texted the photo, you got a message back from him.

I think I'm falling even harder.

-----------------------

I'm so obsessed with them. She was so concerned about that bottle of wine! And he really wasn't lol. Coffee and burgers and a couch date coming up. This story will be 18+ soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[erwinsvow]

ALL MINE

you had once thought rafe was bad at being a boyfriend. turns out, he was even worse at being an ex.

you couldn't pinpoint where it had all gone wrong in your relationship—mostly between days spent alone and nights wondering where he was and what he was doing, even who he was with. you felt constantly out of the loop, and though you tried to make it work for as long as you could, there was no denying that it wasn't working.

you thought you knew what you wanted, what you needed, when you told rafe the two of you needed to stop whatever this was. you could hardly call it a relationship anymore.

maybe some part of you felt happy when he tried to fight for you, when he wasn't letting you go that easily. but you had won in the end—thinking you were going to walk away scot-free and find some guy who would take you on dates and treat you right.

that had been two whole months ago—and you had tried. you'd been on three dates in that time, somehow each one worse than the last and never, ever leading to a second one. everything felt so forced and robotic—though you had never felt that way with rafe.

no, you and him had been electric from the start. that's why it was even harder to stop thinking about him, to push away every stray thought that crept into your mind in the middle of the night. you resist every urge to send a text or dial his number that you've memorized and are unable to forget.

if only someone would tell rafe to do the same. his contact in your phone—a simple r and nothing else—lights up your screen much too often for comfort. everytime you see it, your mind thinks about what it used to look like, his name spelled out with a blue heart and a photo of him that you had to take off his contact because staring at it for too long led you into temptation.

at first it had been fine. how are you? followed by one-word answers and then something that made your heart burn in your chest. good. gotta make sure you're ok.

you should have told him two months ago that how you're doing is no longer any of his concern—that this concern should have appeared when you were his girlfriend. instead you reply with a thank you and turn your phone off, because no matter how much you want yourself to hate rafe cameron, you never have and you never will.

the texts had recently been getting more frequent—something else that should have been alarming. instead you find yourself staring at your phone, biting your lip and wondering what rafe was doing right now that he stopped and thought of you.

it's terrible—it's akin to torture, the worst form. you slip down the rabbithole and start replying mere minutes after he's sent you a message—because you never keep rafe waiting. never have, never will.

the third date since the breakup is a worse than the other two put together, and it's your own fault, you should have never suggested the country club for a harmless lunch. your boyfriend—shit. your ex-boyfriend spots you from half a mile away, only waits for you to smile politely and step away to the bathroom before confronting the boy you're with.

when you get back, your date cuts lunch short, dodging out and staring back at someone with a touch too much fear in his eyes. you don't want to know what rafe said. you can barely get yourself to think about why he did it.

like always, you go home alone. there hasn't been anyone you've met since your breakup that you've liked enough to bring home, or rather, dared to bring home.

quarter to eleven on a saturday night. you should be at the party right now, the one that everyone on your side of the island is at, but you can't find the will to go. you'd gotten dressed up—hair and makeup perfect and pretty, just for a night in. a thought rushes through your mind—one you really wish had just stayed away.

you've done your hair how rafe likes, your makeup the way he always commented that looked nice. even the dress you'd picked out was one of his favorites, now perched across a chair, though you can distinctly remember the last time it had been dropped on the floor of rafe's bedroom.

and though you really, really shouldn't, when your phone buzzes with a call, and that familiar number dances across the screen, you answer.

you bring the phone to your ears, bringing your knees in and curling tightly into yourself. your back is perched up against the headboard, you watch goosebumps dance across the skin of your thighs. you don't stay anything yet.

"hey, kid." you wish you could melt through your bed, through the floor and into the ground. that would be a better fate than what you're about to subject yourself to.

"what'd you want, rafe?" it comes out too quickly, too harshly. you only half meant it—but it's too late to retract the statement. with bated breath you wait, wondering what's to come.

"what? can't check in on my girl?" the way he says it, you almost believe it, almost delude yourself into thinking you're still rafe's and rafe's still yours.

"i'm not your girl anymore, remember?"

"you should be."

you shut your eyes, eyes feeling surprisingly wet. you blink away the tears, not really upset but more... hurt. hurt by what he did, what you went through. hurt by what he's doing now. but you don't stop and hang up the call, like you should. you listen carefully, the faint noises in the background that sound like rafe went to the party you were supposed to be at tonight.

"are you drunk, rafe?" you ask it with too much concerning pouring into your voice.

"nah, kid. don't worry about me."

you pause again. you should really, really shut up.

"i always worry about you." you hear a rush of breath—half a laugh, half a sigh. rafe's probably smiling right now, happy that he got you to finally cave.

"m'fine. listen, i-"

"no," you interrupt, heart beating quickly and not sure if you can handle what he's about to say. "don't. just go back to the party. have fun. hang up and we'll both stop thinking about each other."

"i only came here to come find you," rafe says, and now you're the one letting out a shuddery breath, wondering if it would be better if you just ended the call and went to bed. "c'mon kid. there's nothin' i could do to stop thinkin' about you. i-i know i've been the worst. i'm tryna do better, okay? i'm-"

"rafe?" you ask, suddenly breathless and all too impatient to get him to stop talking.

"yeah?"

"you wanna come over?"

[holylulusworld]

Come to heaven

Title: Come to heaven

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: K5: handle with care

Ship/Main Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ex!Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: angst, jealousy, ex! sugar babe trope, drunkness, fluff, hopeful ending

Summary: Making amends is hard.

A/N: Lyrics in Italics taken from Bruno Mars' "Locked Out of Heaven"

Word Count: 1,7k+

BBB BuckyBarnesBingo 2024 masterlist

Catch up here: Go to hell

Written in reader’s PoV

Bucky tries to slip his hand into your panties, but you wrap your hand around his wrist to stop him. This is how he always made you compliant and stopped any argument.

“No! Not this time.”

“No?” He sounds surprised. Of course, he’s surprised. You always gave in and let him seduce you. Pleasure and having his attention, even for a fleeting time, was better than thinking about the future, or your non-existent relationship.

“No!” You stiffen in his arms. “Let go of me. I won’t let you do this to me all over again. It’s always the same. You stop me from speaking my mind with your lips, hands, or cock. I’m done being a sexual object, a toy you can play with to you.”

“Doll, I…” Bucky reluctantly releases you from his embrace. He steps away to watch you turn around. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you press your hand to your heart, “was yours. I admitted my feelings and waited for you to at least tell me that I mean a little more to you than a set of holes you can fill. But…” you sniffle but put a brave face on, “you couldn’t even give me that.”

“So, you want to go back to that old man and his limp dick?” He scoffs in an attempt to hide the hurt.

“Even if I’m not in love with him, I know exactly what he wants from me. He won’t make promises of keeping me safe and happy only to turn his back on me the moment I tell him that I love him. With him, I know what I’ll get.”

You try to sidestep Bucky, but he blocks your path. “That’s it? You’ll leave me for that man without giving me the chance to make things up to you.”

“James,” you gently cup his face and look him in the eyes. “You can’t make things up to me with gifts or sex this time. I asked you if you can imagine having a relationship with me. You gave me your answer. It’s my turn to tell you that what you have to offer is not enough.”

“Not enough?” He’s confused. “But I…”

“Money and shiny things cannot replace what you are unwilling to give,” you give him a sad smile. “As much as I enjoyed our time together, it’s over. We both knew it’d end like this. This kind of arrangement is meant to end sooner or later. There is nothing we can do about it.”

You press your lips to his scruffy chin, ending what began as a passionate one-night stand with a soft kiss. “Goodbye, James. I hope, one day, you’ll find something worth being more than…” Your voice cracks and you drop your hands from his face.

“Y/N,” he tries to grab your hand but you step away the moment his fingertips brush your skin. If you give in to him now, you’re doomed to repeat history. “Wait, I can try to be better.”

You give him a weak smile. “No, you won’t, James. You never had to try, and that’s the problem. Your good looks and reputation made everything so much easier for you than for other men.”

He allows you to leave, watching you go to join your companion for the rest of the night. Bucky will sulk in a corner, drinking too much while wishing you’d stayed by his side instead of laughing about the things the old man by your side says.

Bucky is close to losing his patience. He’d hoped scaring the man you chose over him would be enough. Much to his chagrin, your companion from last night is rather amused about Bucky’s presence.

Erik Lehnsherr lived long enough to fear nothing. Not that he ever feared anything else than his own mortality. But at his age, even that fear faded a long time ago.

“I don’t understand why you are here, Mr. Barnes,” Erik leans back in his chair, an amused smirk on his lips. “Do we have business to do? I don’t think so. I’m old, not forgetful.”

“If you release Y/N out of her contract with you, I’ll pay you any sum,” Bucky tries to get you out of your sugar girl arrangement with the old creep.

“A contract?” He quirks a brow. “The lovely lady accompanying me last night came with me to make sure I’m not alone. We don’t have an arrangement. She’s just a lovely young woman spending time with me to help me with my paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky eyes his concurrent warily. He’s a master at reading people and finding lies behind a friendly smile. “She’s your employee?”

“A freelancer, the young people call it these days,” Erik holds back a chuckle.

When you offered to join him at the party, you told him everything that happened with James Buchanan Barnes. The man breaking your heart. Erik promised he’d do anything to make the fool let you go see that he made a grave mistake.

“I’m old, not someone creeping on young women,” he adds after a long pause. “I had my fair share of lovely ladies and gentlemen when I was younger.” Erik eyes Bucky up and down. “You’d be on top of my list if only I was thirty years younger.”

Bucky backpaddles. He eyes Erik warily before clearing his throat.

”What exactly is Y/N doing for you?”

“I already told you that she does my paperwork. I believed I was the old man here. Maybe you should get your memory checked, young man,” Erik chuckles. “If you’d excuse me now. I’m waiting for a massage therapist. A pretty boy getting this old man going…”

‘Old creep’, Bucky thinks to himself before leaving without saying goodbye. “At least he doesn’t creep on Y/N. That’s a pro.”

Bucky drove to his best friend to release some steam. He told Steve everything about you and the stunt you pulled to make him jealous.

“She tricked you,” Steve can’t help but laugh. “Man, you’ve got yourself a smart little cookie. I bet she tried to wrap you around her finger.”

“I fell for her lie so easily,” Bucky huffs. “I believed she’s riding that creep’s dick. Now I know, she put on a show to get my attention, not to rub it under my nose. My sweet doll is missing me.”

“Well, if she’s your sweet doll try to treat her better. She deserves someone to take good care of her.”

“Steve—”

“No, Buck. You need to handle her with care,” Steve won’t let his friend get away with a false excuse. “Y/N got hurt by you once, Buck. I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice.”

You walk a little faster to outrun Bucky. He’s following you around town, a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He tried to convince you to move in with him, promising the world to you.

“Go away,” you huff. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing, but I won’t participate. Just leave me alone.”

“You know that you can’t run away from me in those shoes, right?” Bucky smirks when you stop in your tracks to look at the colorful thongs you’re wearing. “I never understood how you can walk in these…”

“I like to feel the sunshine and air on my feet,” you point out. “Not everyone wants to run around in polished leather shoes all the time.”

“Ouch,” he snickers. “Come on, baby doll. Let’s have lunch together. Give me the chance to show you that I can change.”

“Bucky,” you sigh. “You don’t get that I can’t go back to what we had.”

“Y/N,” he drops the roses to cup your face. “I don’t want to go back to what we had. Baby doll, let your Bucky treat you like a queen.”

“I don’t want you to treat me like a queen,” you wrap your hands around his wrists to pull his hands off of your face, “only like someone you respect and love. I want you to treat me like your girlfriend. But you can’t give me that.”

“Baby…”

You look on the ground. “Please pick the roses up and give them to someone who wants to become your next sugar babe. I’m out of this for good.”

Again, you walk away. You’re holding your head high and ignore the ache in your heart as you leave Bucky behind.

'Cause you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven For too long, for too long Yeah, you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven For too long, for too long, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ooh) Oh, yeah, yeah Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ooh) You bring me to my knees, you make me testify (ooh) You can make a sinner change his ways (ooh) Open up your gates 'cause I can't wait to see the light (ooh) And right there is where I wanna stay (ooh)

“What the fuck!” You yell out of your window. Bucky parked his car in front of your apartment complex. He’s singing along to a song, begging you to take him back. “It’s 2 am Bucky! What is wrong with you?”

He turns the volume down and kills the engine before waving at you.

“Baby doll,” he slurs. “I came here to bring you home. ‘m missing you, doll…Please come home.”

“SHUT UP!” one of your neighbors yells out of their window. “Do you know how late it is?”

“It’s 2 am,” Bucky yells back. “Stop yelling so loud. You’ll wake the neighbors!”

“BUCKY! Stop being so loud!”

“Baby…can I come up and cuddle you?” He grins dopily when you slam the window shut. “She loves me!”

“SHUT UP!” Your neighbor yells.

“Shut up!” Bucky yells back. “OH…there you are…” He stumbles toward the door when you get out. “BABY DOLL!”

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab his hand. “Stop yelling and come with me.”

“You look pretty in your pajamas,” he purrs your name and wraps himself around you. Bucky nuzzles his face in your neck and sighs. “Without you, I’m in hell, doll. Forget about that old creep and go for Bucky.” He mutters against you.

You sigh deeply. “Fine, come with me to heaven. You can bunker on my couch. In the morning, we will talk about impulse control and not yelling in the middle of the night.”

Tags in reblog.

[toriangeli]

I will spend my life making it up to you

OKAY. The thoughts I've had since that new teaser last night.

More than one person has called what happens between Louis and Armand in 2.04 a "dynamic shift." This wouldn't be that important if all they meant was that the two of them formed a cathartic new BDSM roleplay (which Jacob has alluded to, for sure, and on rewatch, you very much see it in the "You summoned me?"/"I felt your panic" exchange). If that was all it was, Assad wouldn't be calling it "the tipping point" of the season.

So what does it mean?

I think it means we've been reading this entire relationship wrong this whole time.

Book/movie spoilers ahead.

What we've seen: Armand does everything. He seems to be the gatekeeper to everything. He's the only one who can reach the bookshelves on the ceiling. He controls the lights and the windows. Louis asks him for the missing pages of Claudia's diaries. He lingers nearby during the interview, always ready to jump in if they venture near a subject that could be upsetting for Louis. With every new piece of information, confirmation bias has worked toward this idea that Armand is pulling all the strings.

Then Hannah Moscovitch said something in the Autumn Brown interview: that Armand wouldn't do something without Louis' permission because he is entirely Louis' creature. This seemed contradictory.

Jacob said Louis had become "the Lestat" of the Loumand relationship.

We had yesterday's episode's "dynamic shift."

Then last night, we got a new teaser where Armand and Louis have the following exchange:

Armand: I will spend my life making it up to you.

Louis: You'll never make it up to me.

Armand: I know.

My immediate thought was, naturally, that they are talking about Claudia's death. Look, if Armand can put the coven to sleep in an instant, he could have done it again long enough for Claudia to escape. He could have prevented it. He knows it, both in the book and in the show. And in the books, he is miserable about it. Louis notes how much so when they talk about it.

Later, we find out the real reason for Armand's extreme guilt. While he says he didn't plot to kill her, he admits to something even worse: he cut off Claudia's head and sewed it to an adult vampiress' body to give her a woman's body for once before her execution. He didn't do it out of charity, mind you--he just wanted to see what would happen. He says he's been haunted by it ever since, even having nightmares. Yes, Armand did something so horrible he traumatized himself.

Now, whether they include this experiment on the show (it would have to get past the network), I think simply failing to save Claudia is a good enough reason for this exchange in the teaser to take place.

And now, I'm looking at all those signs of Armand's controlling nature with new eyes.

See, Armand in the books can be controlling, but there's no evidence he ever is so with Louis. In fact, he's almost the opposite with Louis as he is with Daniel. Part of it is guilt, and part of it is desperation for love. After the vaguest of hints from the writers, people assumed their relationship on the show would be more regimental.

But I thought of the moment where Louis has Armand open his umbrella for him and light his cigarette, even going so far as to throw away his own lighter. And all those signs of control are starting to look like acts of servitude.

Bookshelves on the ceiling: any time Louis wants a book, Armand has to go fetch it for him. He can't get exasperated and tell him to get it for himself.

Turning lights and UV filters on and off: menial tasks demeaning to a partner rather than household staff.

Arranging for the missing pages of Claudia's diaries: Notice he doesn't say no, and in fact looks very nervous when asked. His only objection is that there is stuff about him on those pages he doesn't want made public, and he still agrees to it. It's like he is Louis' personal secretary.

Then there's the scene from last episode where the photos are mixed up. As soon as Armand clocks that Louis is accusing him of mixing things up on purpose, he starts stimming. He knows an argument he wants to avoid is coming, so he immediately tries to throw Rashid under the bus. Later, Louis is yelling at him for "embarrassing" him in front of Daniel, which is one of those textbook accusations toxic people use.

I think Louis is making Armand make it up to him.

There's something else Louis says: he accuses Armand of thinking he needs to be coddled. As if Armand pathologically placating him has been a thing in the past.

I want to be clear: this is not a "poor Armand" post. I think when the audience knows the full story, they will feel Armand got off easy. Because he did. I'd be tempted to do the same in Louis' shoes (but ultimately wouldn't want to see his face, so I don't think I'd go through with it). One of the reasons Armand is staying is because he knows he's getting off easy. If you tell me you would blame Louis for treating Armand this way, I wouldn't believe you. Armand deserves love, but he doesn't deserve to get it from Louis (I still ship it tho, I ship everything).

Now, there's no indication that Armand is afraid of Louis hurting him. The fact of him being stressed out about an incoming argument, and changing his behavior to avoid it, isn't the best sign--toxic partners will often use this tactic to gain capitulation--but by no means is this anywhere near his worst relationship.

It would all make his actions make much more sense: he's this jumpy about Daniel's intervention because his relationship with Louis is permanently on thin ice. He doesn't desire control over Louis for its own sake--that's not really an Armand thing, as much as people attribute it to him--he just wants to keep this man from ruining years of his hard work and effort put into this partnership. It's a sunk cost fallacy.

[retroactivebakeries]

Once, there was a girl who learned the name of an ancient god. It burned in her, the name, it shouted out to be spoken, but she dared not speak it. It was a holy thing, a precious jewel of worth in this worthless world, but it was not a name that should be spoken.

There were some who thought otherwise—princes, hierophants, dead men, sorcerer-kings. They employed their means of persuasion, but still the girl demurred. Even as they led her to the gallows, she did not speak—she did not speak—

She was going to die. She had a duty she’d never asked for, a sacred obligation, and it meant more than her life—but, she realized, she wasn’t willing to die for it.

She spoke five syllables, and the world fell away.

~~~

No one tried to persuade her, after that. It wouldn’t have done them much good, anyway. She’d have just given them a mischievous grin, and gleefully demonstrated the absence of her tongue.

She got older. The regret never faded, the blood on her hands never washed away, but at least she got to live an uneventful life, for a time.

~~~

It’s almost a joke, in the end. The princes and sorcerer-kings never got her, but some kid, all belligerent from drinking away a broken heart, waving a sword around like a jackass? That’s who does her in. He isn’t even trying to kill her, just stumbling in her direction sword-first.

She has no choice. Her tongue is gone, but the name had never needed a tongue to be spoken. It spills from her mouth like a star exploding:

“Beatboxing Puppy.”

A cutscene triggers. Non-diegetic music fills the air. A thing more beast than god romps and frolicks about. The blade moves no closer to her heart—that isn’t part of the cutscene. And time, real time, isn’t part of the cutscene either, even with the sword’s tip less than a second from her skin. But it can only last so long—

“Beatboxing Puppy.”

The cutscene begins again, but there’s just the slightest interval between one’s end and the other’s beginning. It’s enough. The sword pierces skin, nuzzles the soft meat of her heart. She is going to die, once the cutscene ends, and it is almost—

“Beatboxing Puppy.”

No interval this time—the cutscene plays inside the cutscene, like space and time folding in on themselves. She can’t feel the pain, not while she stands outside the world, but the interruption in her blood flow is starting to impair her cognition. All she has to do is keep saying it—

“Beatboxing Puppy.”

They say that if you go there, you can still see it—the wound in time, the hole in the world. The cutscene, unending. She will never die. You can see her, if you’re close enough, can hear the non-diegetic music and see for yourself the face of god.

[fuckmyskywalker]

thinking about religious reader and stepbrother!sam (with corruption kink) going to catholic school together

18+, smut, Catholic!Reader x Stepbrother!Sam, stepcest, slight dubcon (if you see manipulation as dubcon).

I've been having an awful block so I hope this is good ;)

“Give me my notebook back.”

“No.”

“Give it to me,” You repeat, launching your arm over your head in an attempt to snatch it off Sam’s hand, which is pointless. His soft chuckle infuriates you, to him, everything is just a game. “Sam, I’m being serious. I need to finish my homework.”

“Lemme just borrow it,” He insists, like he has been doing for the past ten minutes. “I’m just gonna copy your Classical Studies homework.”

“No!” After another failed attempt, you give up, defeated arms falling, frown forming. “No one is going to believe you wrote that. You are not that smart.”

This time his chuckle bounces sarcastically around your walls, looks like he isn’t giving up. Sharing a household with him is already bad enough— share school, classes, work is just the cherry on top. Sam can be quite a pain in the ass if he wants to; with little effort to continue his studies, the only reason he agreed to join a religious college was because it was his only option. Join or get kicked. Bothering you is just a plus.

Stubborn, dense and miserable, Sam is quite the fit. Sticking like a sore thumb, he enjoys how you lower your eyes and hide your face behind your binder every time he drives you both home. Is easy to read what's going through your mind, how you wish the world just swallowed you. People talk— the more religious, the more toxic is their venom— something that is part of Sam’s everyday life. Not yours.

You hide under long skirts, friendship bracelets and psalms. The role model that would never be able to break a plate or hurt a bug. The kind of girl you'd see every Sunday; which only makes it more entertaining to taunt you.

“Give me a kiss and I’ll give it to you,” He smirks, leaning down. Your eyes admire his piercings, the dark circles under his eyes— pure sin. The juxtaposition of your disgust and his amusement is enough to pump blood… all the way down.

“Ew,” You squint. “No.”

“Fine. Then show me your tits and I’ll give you the notebook.”

The request alone brings a wave of discomfort down your spine— but surprisingly you find yourself considering it. The thought lasts no longer than a few seconds, barely even acknowledged by your mind. Sam notices. Blue eyes drinking your expressions, how your eyes zone out for a moment, perhaps he hit a soft spot, or perhaps he was truly experiencing God’s blessings.

“Give me a kiss or show me your tits. Either way you'll win,” Threading carefully, there’s a purpose, a chance.

You pout, a habit of yours that indicates frustration. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot you are saving your first kiss for your husband,” Dangling the notebook over your head, Sam leans down. Just keep pushing, he repeats to himself. Just keep pushing. “Look. Showing me your tits isn’t that bad. I’m not going to touch you or anything.”

“It's just as bad!” You argue, biting the inside of your cheek. “If I’m saving myself for marriage, no one should see me.”

Gears working at maximum speed, you ignore how his eyes change focus. “ Now you are wrong, little sis. Your husband is the one who will touch you and enjoy your flesh. I will simply watch,” His words aren't even convincing, far from truthful, close to deceiving. “Just lift your grandma’s dress, I know you wear those fucking briefs underneath. I won’t look anywhere else.”

“How can I know that?”

He is so close. He can almost taste it.

“I swear to God.”

This is the first time you have ever heard Sam say that.

With a regretful tremble, your hands find the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly. Your eyes stay glued to the door, praying that no one walks in. He says it is not that bad— yet it feels like it. Your heart is racing, palms sweating, as if this wasn't supposed to happen.

“Well, if it helps, I think your bastard future husband will be more than happy.”

Not sure if his compliment is a backhanded comment, the second your eyes meet Sams, he lifts them, agreeing to break contact with those round, precious pieces that he thinks are in fact a blessing. A beat goes by. You know you should let go of the fabric now, he got what he wanted, right?

The notebook hits the carpet with a muffled sound just in time for Sam to launch forward. Pushing you down with strong hands on your shoulders, you let out a choked gasp, wondering when did you stop staring at his eyes to now focus on the white ceiling.

His tongue flicks your left nipple teasingly, the sudden jolt of pleasure both terrifying and exhilarating. “I said no touching,” He whispers, the devil’s voice dripping down his lips. Circling your nipple with said lips, you arch your back, surprised by your own response; the soft suckle is enough to drown your loud thoughts. momentarily, at least. “But I didn’t say anything about sucking.”

[martinmuhl]

• rivals?

pair: kate martin x reader

warnings: cussing, just some tension (?)

summary: you and kate have been rivals since high school and kate’s finally had enough

authors note: hi hi this is my first fic!! ill definitely improve but i had so much fun writing this and if you want, i could potentially make a part two? i’m not sure how to work tumblr yet so im still figuring it out lol but leave requests and ill try to write some!! :) i hope you enjoy!

“are you fucking kidding me?” kate spits at you as you’re guarding her. well, you were guarding her before you sent her flying to the ground. as she looks up at you and her teammates rush to her side, you roll your eyes.

“what’s the matter martin? can’t handle all this?” you shot back, stealing the ball away from her as your own teammates rush to you. your team is losing by 15 and you know there probably isn’t a chance you’d come back and win, but god did you hate kate martin and her smug ass.

you and kate had history. your high schools were rivals and everyone loved the rivalry between you two, so the both of you started to despise each other. but you both could also feel a different kind of tension too.

throughout the last few years when your college teams played, everyone always went crazy for the big rivalry between you and off the court, the both of you had to play nice in interviews. but on the court tonight felt different. you wanted her to feel the hatred you had towards her, but you also knew there was an unspoken tension and always hoped things would go further. little did you know, kate felt it as well.

your team ended up losing as you predicted as you headed back to the locker room when you heard someone shout your name. “y/n! you gonna talk to me or what?” you turn around and there she is, rushing up to you. the two of you stand in the middle of the hall, glancing around to make sure nobody was around to witness the animosity between you.

“you never want to talk after we play each other. what’s there to say now? good game? congrats? see you next game?” you reply, hands on your hips.

“what’s there to say? you shoved me to the ground. you’ve never done that before no matter how much you hate me.” she shot back, growing angrier.

“i was tired of looking at your smug face, knowing you were going to beat us. knowing you were going to beat me again..” you trail off, as this is yet another loss to the hawkeyes.

“god, you really hate me don’t you? because of what? our rivalry? that’s such bullshit. we’re both good players y/n and i’m done pretending to hate you.” she says, suddenly grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her now empty locker room.

you were shocked. she was pretending this whole time? but you could feel it. when you made it inside the locker room, you turn to her, “pretending? that’s real funny martin. then what has this been for you the whole time? you like being an asshole to me for fun to get me all riled up huh?” you take a step closer to her, seething with rage. she’s acted like an ass towards you for years now? and it’s been fake this whole time?

kate takes a step closer as well, smiling. this pisses you off, but you can feel your heart hammering and a heat grow in your stomach and between your legs. “you know i’ve always liked when you call me by my last name. i’ve never told you that because i was afraid you’d stop. y/n, this rivalry between us makes me better, but it’s never made me hate you. i have to admit though, i think it’s hot you went out of your way to target me during the game tonight.”

hot? now you were aching with anger, intensity and longing. you for sure hate her in some ways, but not enough to make you not want to grab a hold of her braid, slam her against the wall and do unspeakable things to her. you don’t though. you just take a step back, stunned. “i… i don’t know what to say..” you say, those being the only words you can form.

kate strides toward you, your back against the wall now. she’s inches from your mouth when she leans down to your ear. “don’t say anything. i do like being an asshole towards you. it turns me on seeing you get so pissed at me, especially during a game.”

you’re about to push her away, thinking she’s done toying with you. how can you believe a word she says? she’s not done though as she says in a low tone, “and you know what? i can handle all this.” she nods her head, gesturing to your body. “and one day, i will.”

she backs up suddenly then, a smirk on her lips. your heart pounds, the throbbing between your legs increasing by the second.

“your bus is probably waiting for you. i’ll see you in a few weeks, y/n. make sure you save some of that hatred for me for after the game. i’ll show you just how much i can handle it.” she winks and then she’s out the door, leaving you alone in the iowa locker room.

for once in your life, you couldn’t wait to play kate and iowa again. kate martin went from your biggest enemy to your biggest need in only hours.

[clockwayswrites]

*whistles innocently* Feather won, eh?

cw: mentions of blood, gun violence

-

The whoop that Cassin lets out as he free falls for a moment is a bright note in the middle of Gotham’s dark streets. He gets why Dad didn’t let him out to actual fight crime until he was sixteen, but he really wishes he could have flown before then. There’s something about swinging between the buildings of Gotham that’s like nothing else. Cassin’s grapple finds purchase on the next building and there’s that gratifying pull at his muscles as his momentum is wrenched in another direction and he flings himself back up into the air.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be tired of flying.

There’s barely a sound as he lands, a few swings later, on a roof. Cassin rolls through the movement and up onto the balls of his feet, testing the flex in the soles of the new boots. He’s relishing having enough of a growth spurt to need a new uniform. It’s not that he’ll ever be large, not like Bruce, but it would be nice not to be so tiny.

The crack of a gunshot rips through the air. Cassin is off, bounding across the roofs even as he taps his comm once to activate it.

“Gunshot, B. Single round, small caliber, no shouting,” Cassin rattles off.

“Location,” Batman rasps back.

“North Narrows, I’m almost there, and yes, I’m sticking to the roofs,” Cassin says. It was always best to reassure his dad, even when it’s less Dad and more Batman. “Suspect in sight, running north on Harris— shit, gunshot victim on the sidewalk.”

“See to the victim, I’ll intercept.”

“Gotcha,” Cassin agrees. He hops the last gap between buildings, catches his grapple on the lip of the roof, and slings himself down to street level.

Shit, that’s a lot of blood already. Cassin doesn’t have much hope as he pushes back the hood the person is wearing. The skin is deathly pale, pitch black hair frames the head like a dark halo. The eyes are closed.

They would be blue if they were open.

No they wouldn’t, he can’t know that. He doesn’t know that.

It’s just that…

It’s just that the face looks a lot like the one that Cassin sees every day on the walls of the manor. The face looks a lot like the big brother that Jason never got to know.

The comm sparks to life again. “Cassin, suspect heading back your way. Status?”

“They’re, um,” Cassin shakes his head and spins on his heels, looking for the suspect. Shit, he didn’t even take the pulse yet. There’s the suspect, swooping shadow of black close behind them. Cassin glances back over his shoulder and freezes.

“Cassin? Report!”

“They’re… they’re gone?”

-

The hinges scream as the door to the shoddy apartment opens. He’ll have to put that on his list of things to fix. Or maybe not, it was a good warning system. Not that Danny needs any warning right then, he knows who is coming in by the chill in his breath as it brushes across his lips.

He lets himself finish his thought before he sets down his pen and turns around with a smile. A smile that quickly turns into a sigh as he sees the mess. “Really? Another one? You’re going to have to start dressing all in black if you keep getting your clothing covered in blood like this.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Danny insists as he gets up and crosses the short distance between them. He pokes a finger through the bloody hole in the hoddie. “At least tell me there’s no bullet in you.”

“Through and through,” they chirped.

Not wanting to be fooled again, Danny looks up into the vivid golden eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment before Danny gives in with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you, my Robin?”

They tilted their head, the motion short and as bird like as their moniker. “Kiss me?”

Danny barks out a laugh and leans up to press a quick kiss to Robin’s lips. “Fair enough. Now go clean up and put your hoddie in water to soak. And remember this time, cold water, please?”

“Yes Danny,” Robin says and steals another kiss before they bounce off to do as told.

Danny rolls his eyes fondly and gets back to work.

[zuppizup]

Breathe

Rayla shifted nervously, trying desperately to ignore the hollow pit of fear in her belly. The sun was slowly rising over the frozen landscape, bathing the entire sky in soft pink light. If anything, this should be pretty or exciting, but all she felt was dread.

Being on the ground, something solid beneath her feet, she felt like she could stand a fighting chance against most obstacles, but out there, in the endless sky…? Well, that was something else entirely.

“You’re going to love flying, Rayla,” Callum spoke hurriedly, checking his pack over one last time. “The wind in your hair, fresh breeze all around… the freedom.” He sighed, sounding excited and happy.

Which she should at least have been trying to be too. The last thing she wanted was to ruin his good mood.

“I feel free enough up here, thank you very much.” Swallowing past her dry mouth, she leaned a little closer to the edge, trying to drum up even a little of the enthusiasm that was radiating off Callum. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, she once again tried to push the fear and anxiety from her mind. “It sure is a long way down.”

“Well, look on the bright side, that’s a long way for you to fall while you figure flying out before you hit the ground.” Callum closed his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he stood up to join her.

Rayla glanced at him, then back to the endless clouds before them.

Were they birds down there… or dragons? They just looked like circling specks; it was impossible to tell exactly what they were from so high up-

“Hey,” Callum stepped a little closer to her, his hand moving to caress her chin, tilting her head up and away from the terrifying drop.

Rayla swallowed as she gazed up at him, all thoughts of cliffs and falling and wings suddenly vacating her mind as her heart raced in her chest.

“You’re going to be fine, Rayla.” Callum smiled softly at her, his thumb gently moving across her skin. “I’ll be with you the whole time, alright? There’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” despite how lightheaded and shaky she was at the feel of his hand on her face, she couldn’t help but laugh at his confident assertion. “You’ve never been afraid of flying.”

Callum scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What? Of course I was-”

“Sure, people who are afraid of flying regularly jump off cliffs on their first day-”

Callum swallowed, his hand trembling ever so slightly. “I was way more afraid of losing you.”

“Oh,” It came out barely above a whisper, Callum’s big green eyes and soft smile all she could focus on in that moment.

Callum held her gaze, sighing softly as his thumb continued to stroke her face. Taking a little shuddering breath, he leaned in closer to her and Rayla closed her eyes, her own breath catching in her throat. He kissed her softly, like a gentle breeze across her lips and her mind spun just from that. A moment later he leaned back, just a fraction, his hand still on her face and a soft smile on his lips.

“Together?” He asked, his voice soft in the small space between them.

Feeling like she could finally breathe, Rayla smiled back at him. “Together.”

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Devotion

Final part of the craving you series

Dark! Wanda Maximoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary-your living in Wandas house, she pays your wage and the bills, she takes care of you.. would it be so bad to step back and only be hers

Warnings- manipulation, dark! Wanda, obsessive Wanda, unhealthy obsession, potential Stockholm syndrome?, not proofread!!, snappy Wanda, coercion,

Wordcount - 1.3k

A/n- obviously this is the last chapter for the craving you story :( I rlly enjoyed writing smthng different for once and again I'm srry it took so long to get out :(( !! The main story is over but I will write drabbles or headcannons if anyone's interested <3

Wanda was finally at peace. A blissful weight off her shoulders she hadn't felt in months since meeting you. For the first time in what felt like her years she could sleep the whole night through without worrying about you, your whereabouts or who you could be with. This new found bliss was all because her plan to isolate and make you hers was finally falling into place like pieces of a puzzle, a satisfying finish. She had you in watching distance 24/7 and when she didn't, she wasn't more than twenty feet away. You slept with her, the guest rooms which had been under 'renovations' since you arrived in her home had to be completely redone again after she told you they found plenty of black mold inside them, just one of the many ways she'd managed to keep you close without making you suspicious. She'd even gone as far as to cut wires in your car so you'd both have to go in her car to work, she just wanted you safe after all.

After about a week at Wanda's your cats had somehow re appeared aswell, unscathed and well fed. You'd been heading out to her car for work when you'd seen the two lay together next to a hedge, Nixie protectively infront of Milo in a motherly sort of way. Obviously you were ecstatic and swept the two up quickly to show Wanda who did her best to look surprised at the re appearing cats.

"Wow.. how could they ever end up here?.." She knew you were stupid naive enough to fall for what she said even when she barely hid the truth from you. In actual fact the cats had been in the room next to you all this time you'd just never thought to question what could lie behind the other doors in Wanda's house.

To be honest you never really questioned her, not anymore atleast. It felt wrong to not do as she asked when she was letting you and your two cats stay rent free with her. I mean she was such a good person almost angelic in your view these days. You could barely remember the time where she'd had you on your knees begging for your job, all you could think off was the warmth, safety and comfort she provided to you without repayment.

Wanda had planned for this to happen. That by being around her so much you would begin to feel like you owed her, as if she saved your life. Which she did but she was also the reason it had needed saving to begin with. Oh, if it wasn't for her you'd still be living your lonely mundane life all alone. She took great pleasure in watching the change in your behaviour to her. From fear to adoration. The way you began to need her almost crave her presence in a way she had craved you. She saw the glint in your eye when it was time for bed and you knew you'd get to lie next to her the whole night. She saw the way you waited on her every need like a puppy trying to please its owner.

Though this was a good progress to making you hers. Her personal doll. It wasn't quite enough for Wanda. She wanted more. She wanted to make you see there was no point to work when you had no bills to pay. Get you to stop searching for a new place to stay and stop your income therefore making you further dependent and indebted to her. She wanted you to be a good little stay at home who waited by at the door for her and hated being separate from her. She needed you to become this. She also knew no job meant you wouldn't have any excuses to be out without her eyes on you at all time. It meant you couldn't find someone else to replace her. She should be the only person in your life.

She brought it up during dinner one night just to see how you'd react to such an idea.

"So darling, I've been thinking and wouldn't it be much less stressful for you if you didn't work? I mean its not like you have bills to pay." She played around with the steak on her plate aimlessly pushing it around as she asked you.

"Well.." You gulped unsure what to say. To not work is a dream really but you need money to find a new place and eventually pay back Wanda's kindness. "That sounds really nice but without a job I'd be under your feet forever." You miss the look of excitement which crosses her face at that prospect. If you next to her. Forever. "And I'd never be able to pay you back for your generosity."

Wanda's eye twitched ever so slightly at your response. Of course someone as sweet as you would unintentionally set her off course by wanting to be helpful. It was so cute that she was hardly bad but it had made it hard for her to make any further argument.

"You don't have to pay me back sweetheart. And property is much too expensive for someone like you right now. I mean I just want what's best for you after all." Her hand finds place over yours and gently rubs over your soft and delicate skin.

What she'd said had made your head hurt and all your thoughts go mushy in your brain. She just wanted what was best for you and obviously someone like Wanda knew a lot about what would be right. So maybe she was.. maybe her idea would be helpful for you.

"Uh.. I.. I mean I just don't want to be so... useless." As you uttered those words Wanda felt as though her heart could shatter. You were not useless. Especially not to her. You were her reason to breath. Her sigh of relief. Hers. Her saviour.

"Don't talk about yourself like that." Her voice snappy in a way which made you feel small under her hardening gaze which threatened your every move.

"I'm.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.."

"I know you didn't. Don't apologise, just eat and stop troubling your little mind."

Dinner was fairly silent after that and so was the rest of the evening. You curled up in a chair near the fireplace and Wanda tapping away on her computer almost purposely avoiding looking at you. For you the opposite, you felt you couldn't look away from her beauty wanting to admire her. The pair of reading glasses perched on her nose that kept sliding off and her hair, oh her hair, the way she kept waving her hands through it everytime something annoyed her was so satisfying and hot?...

Night soon fell and you climbed into bed next to Wanda. An enjoyable time for the both of you and yet another moment where Wanda held all the control. Every night just as you fell asleep she made sure to turn down the thermostat so you'd have no choice but to curl into her body and snuggle into the heat that radiated off her. She was particularly fond of when you fell into a deep sleep, when she got to plant soft kisses against you and perhaps more? When she got to see you up close as peaceful as ever. When she'd whisper concerning sweet things into your ears without you even moving an inch.

"Your mine, aren't you sweet girl? Yeah that's it dont even question what I'm saying."

Tonight felt different to you, as you chambered into the left side of Wanda's four poster King sized bed you thought to yourself about what she'd said at dinner. Would it really be so bad to quit your job? Would it be so bad just to stay here with her and the cats? I mean her mansion did have everything you'd ever need so you could hardly even imagine becoming bored. And.. I mean Wanda suggested it so she mustn't mind the idea.. Hmmm she's probably right. She has been so far.

Taglist: @stayevildarling @reginassweetheart @alexawynters @your-my-mission @witchmaximoff @imjustvibingsworld

[theamberfist]

Sink or Swim | Stolas x Reader

Romantic! Stolas x Swim Instructor! Reader

Description: When Stolas signed his baby daughter, Octavia up for swim lessons, he never expected to like her new instructor so much

(Notes:) (gender neutral reader) (reader is a sinner) (reader is baby Octavia's swim teacher)

Words: 1,640

❀ Fun fact: I've taught parent-infant swim lessons IRL so all the exercises shown in this are real ones we use with infants ❀

Stolas frowned as he pushed open the door to the building in front of him; unable to help the slight nervous feeling that bloomed in his chest. He supposed there should have been no cause for concern, considering he was a prince of hell and easily one of the strongest beings in this ring, but it wasn't as if he'd ever done something like this before. 

He readjusted his arms, where Octavia rested on his hip sleepily. On a normal day, she would have been napping at home now, but not for much longer. He'd specifically chosen this time because he knew that, once she woke up, she would be as active as ever. Stolas reminded himself that this was for her sake, not his; he could hold his head up high for her, just as he always did.

When he entered, the imp at the front desk looked up from his work and his eyes widened slightly. "Prince Stolas..." He managed before finally clearing his throat and regaining his composure, "Right, we were expecting you." Though, something told the owl prince they hadn't actually thought he'd make good on his plans and come in. 

"The toddler pool has already been reserved, and your instructor is waiting for you there," the imp went on to explain as he checked their names off on a clipboard, "I'll let them know you've arrived." 

"Thank you." Stolas nodded awkwardly before turning and heading through the locker rooms to the pools. Though he could have simply signed Via up for regular lessons, he'd decided a private one would be better for the sake of them both. He wasn't aware that meant they'd reserve an entire pool for them, however small, but at least this way, he would have fewer paparazzi to deal with. 

Finally, he reached the pool deck, seeing that the whole facility only had a few people in it right now. There was a large lap swimming pool in front of him, as well as a splash pad to his right and the toddler pool to his left. When he looked over, there was already someone sitting on the side with their feet in the water as they waited. They wore a red swimsuit with the word 'lifeguard' printed in white, leading him to believe this was the instructor the imp at the front desk had mentioned. 

He made his way over to the toddler pool as Octavia began stirring in his arms now. It was a good thing he'd already gotten her into her swimsuit, or he would have had a hard time getting her to sit still long enough for it now. 

Upon hearing them come over, you looked up and smiled, setting the clipboard you'd been holding on the side of the pool. 

"Hello!" You called, "Here for the parent-child swim lesson?" Stolas nodded and you stepped out of the barely knee-deep pool to come over to him. To his surprise, you seemed to be a sinner, rather than an imp or hellhound like he'd expected. Your appearance differed from them greatly, and there was an energy about you that told him you had to be a human soul. 

You smiled and introduced yourself. "I'll be teaching our class every week," you explained, "If anything is too difficult or uncomfortable for you two as we get started, please let me know. Private lessons means I have a little more flexibility in what we do." You winked at the last part, and though it made the prince's heart beat quicker, he was fairly certain you just meant it playfully. 

"Anyway, who is this little one?" You asked, turning to the little owlet in his arms, whose big round eyes were staring up at you. 

"This is my daughter, Octavia," Stolas replied, immediately relaxing now that the topic of conversation had changed, "She's about a year old; I hope that's alright!" You waved him off.

"That's perfect," you said, gently reaching out towards the baby, "I've worked with kids much older and much younger than this." Octavia's tiny hand grabbed one of your fingers and you smiled kindly before looking up at her father. "And you're Prince Stolas, right?" He blinked.

"Just Stolas is fine!"

You nodded before removing your hand from the owlet's grip and standing up straighter. "Well, if you're ready, then we can get started." You said, that professional air returning to you, "I was thinking we'd have her in the shallow area to start with and ease her into slightly deeper waters." Stolas nodded, setting his bag down on a pool chair and then following you to the water. 

Now that you'd been properly introduced, Octavia was eager to follow after you, and he held her little hands as she stepped into the shallowest area of the pool. You giggled, encouraging her along the way. 

Once she stood so that the water was up to her knees, you brought out a dive toy and placed it on the pool floor, asking her to reach down and grab it to get her a little closer to the water. Stolas sat by her as she did so with ease, and then you moved the toy slightly deeper. 

He admired how much energy you seemed to have with his owlet, as well as how kind you were to her. Your soft voice and easy patience was a stark contrast to Octavia's mother; that was for sure. The two of you watched her repeatedly pick the dive toy up from increasingly deeper as if she had no care in the world. 

Finally, he broke the quietness between you two as you congratulated Octavia at another job well done. "Do you often teach lessons here?" He asked a little awkwardly, "I haven't seen many human souls in this ring of hell before." You smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I teach almost all the lessons we offer here," you replied, moving Via's dive toy again, "It's the same job I had while I was alive, and I guess it's the only thing I've really found that I'm good at."

Stolas couldn't argue with that. Usually, Octavia was much more timid around water than this. She wouldn't even go in it at all if he wasn't holding her hand the whole time. With you, though, she was so enthusiastic that she hadn't even noticed the lack of touch. It was like he'd brought a different baby to the pool altogether today. 

"I see," he replied with a nod, smiling down at his daughter, who was happily splashing some of the water. "Do you have any children of your own?" You shook your head.

"Nope, I mostly kept to myself while I was alive- and, I guess, while I've been dead, too." You shrugged, "But when I found out how few kids in my neighborhood knew how to swim, I started doing lessons to keep them a little safer." 

Stolas nodded, wondering if it would have been too much to hope that 'keeping to yourself' meant you didn't have a spouse or partner, either. 

"If you're ready, we can move to the deeper water exercises." You changed the subject now and the prince nodded, placing a reluctant Octavia back on his hip and bringing her towards the deeper pool nearby. There, you helped him perform the next exercise, which consisted of him resting the owlet's head on his shoulder and trying to get her to kick her legs as he moved her through the water on her back. She was less enthusiastic about that, but you were quick to think; holding a toy up so her focus would shift. 

That calmed her down a lot, and soon enough she was kicking her legs happily as she giggled at you. "Do you get many attendees to your lessons?" Stolas asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation with you again, "I know those who died and ended up here aren't at as much risk of drowning." You nodded.

"That's why I work here," you smiled, "People in the pride ring aren't really concerned about dying unless it's at the hands of angels. I still think water safety is important, though."

The prince couldn't argue there. After all, that was why he'd signed Octavia up for these lessons. That, and he'd thought it would be nice for the two of them to get out of the house together for an activity. 

"Then I applaud you for your work!" He replied, "I'm sure many hellborn children can be quite difficult to teach." You laughed.

"You have no idea how much hellhounds hate swimming." 

The rest of the lesson went on just like that. With each new exercise, you found yourself getting that much more comfortable talking with Stolas, and vice versa. Octavia was also doing extremely well with everything you threw at her, and at this rate, you knew she'd be confidently swimming around on her own soon enough. 

Finally, the lesson ended and you praised the little owl before dismissing the class and hopping out of the water. Feeling warmer than you had when you began, you grabbed your clipboard to prepare for your next class.

Stolas glanced your way as he carefully dried Octavia off. "Same time next week, then?" He asked with a grin and you nodded.

"I'll be looking forward to it!" He didn't say anything, but inside, he knew he would be too. Just as he was grabbing his bag to leave, you came over and handed him a small piece of paper. The owl prince raised an eyebrow. 

"My number," you explained with a smile, "just in case." He nodded at that, feeling his heart flutter as he placed the paper in his pocket, and then you waved them both off as they left.

It seemed he'd gotten more enjoyment out of these little swim lessons than expected, and he couldn't wait to come back. 

[ataliagold]

I'll Sing Silence

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, background Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler

Rating: T

W/C: 2706

Tags: established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, autistic Steve Harrington, sensory issues, stimming, autistic shutdown, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care Of Steve Harrington

Notes: Title from Drinking Song For The Socially Anxious by The Amazing Devil. A lot of this is based off my own experiences with autism, other stuff I've added in.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events leads to a bad day for Steve. Luckily, Eddie's there to take care of him.

___

It was a series of unfortunate events that led to Steve’s meltdown that evening.

First of all, he hadn’t slept well last night which had led to him sleeping through his morning alarm since he’d been so tired, and then he hadn’t had time for a shower before work so he was feeling sweaty and gross, and it was already hot when he stepped outside which led to his clothes sticking comfortably to his skin and he was already upset by the rupture in his morning routine but then Robin was running late and he’d had to sit in the car outside her house and stare anxiously at the minutes ticking by on his watch while his leg jiggled impatiently and then he’d had to pretend everything was fine when Robin asked why he looked so tense…

They were late opening Family Video, late to clock in, and Steve hated being late.

He had a routine, he had a system, and when it was upset it took him a long time to settle again.

But he’d listened to Robin chatter away while they rewound tapes and put them away, murmured non-committed responses and retreated back inside his own head a bit until he started feeling semi-normal again.

Just as he was starting to feel a little better, lunch time had rolled around, and he realized he’d forgotten his lunch in his rush this morning, and he’d stood in the breakroom with his fists clenched and his heart pounding because now he was going to have to rush to Melvalds and try to find something to eat but he wasn’t sure he had enough time and he’d never gone there before during a lunch break, it was out of routine and it shouldn’t be a big deal but it fucking was because there was something wrong with him, why was he so upset over fucking lunch…

He was wasting his break. Couldn’t get his brain to cooperate and just choose a constructive path to follow, became stuck in a frustrated loop and frozen in place as the minutes passed.

He did nothing, in the end.

Spent his time staring at the wall of the breakroom, trying to breathe slowly, trying to settle himself but without something to eat he couldn’t find anything for his hands to do, ended up stuffing them into the sleeves of his jacket and clutching the fabric hard, hard enough that his fingers started to ache and it was making him too hot but it felt good to just squeeze something…

Robin found him. Frowned, offered him half her own sandwich which he gratefully took but it wasn’t right, there was too much ham and the cheese was a different brand to what he usually bought and it didn’t feel right in his mouth.

A run-in with a grumpy customer that afternoon almost tipped him over the edge.

He’d felt tears building, felt that familiar tight feeling in his throat, the way his lungs were starting to constrict and his hands were starting to tremble even as he frantically twisted the bracelet on his wrist, the one Eddie had given him after seeing him constantly play with Eddie’s own jewelry…

The woman was saying something, her face twisted and angry while she waved around a tape in her hand, but she wasn’t giving Steve any time to process her words and every time he tried to talk she’d yell over the top of him and Steve had had enough.

Before he could lose it in front of the customer, he backed up. Turned on his heel, strode away, threw a pleading look at Robin as he passed her.

She nodded, smoothly intercepted the woman with a fake smile plastered on her face, and Steve retreated quickly to the relative safety of the breakroom.

He breathed. Stared unblinking at the floor, still rotating the brown leather bracelet, running his index finger over the intricate design etched into it.

You’re fine, calm the fuck down, stop being a fucking child.

But he couldn’t.

He knew this wasn’t normal, that he should be able to deal with the day like any other person, but it was like there was this block in his brain telling him otherwise.

“Steve, you ok?”

Robin interrupted his downward spiral, placed a hand on his back and Steve immediately leaned into it because the pressure was good, the weight of her hand comforting and grounding.

“Mmm hmm,” he mumbled.

“Ignore Mrs Brown, she’s a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“Tried to tell me the tape didn’t work, I put it in the store player and it was totally fine so it’s probably an issue with her player but I swapped the tape out anyway because I really couldn’t be bothered arguing it further…Steve?” Robin’s tone was concerned, her hand rubbing small circles into his back.

“Mmm?”

“You don’t look too good, what’s happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, it’s clearly something -”

“M’fine.”

“Do you want to head home early? I can finish off here and call Nance to pick me up.”

No, because that would mess up his routine even more and he didn’t think he could live with that today.

Steve shook his head.

“Well…we can skip dinner tonight, if you want. We can just postpone it, if you’d rather go home.”

He would rather go home. Or preferably to Eddie’s, where he could curl up on his boyfriend’s bed and let Eddie wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tight and pull the blanket up over his head and just shut out the rest of the world until he was ready to crawl back out and deal with it again.

But they’d been looking forward to going out to the diner for a while now – Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy – their schedules had finally aligned, and they’d eagerly organized the double date.

Everyone was looking forward to it, and Steve wasn’t going to let them cancel it just because of him.

Just because he couldn’t deal with a few minor inconveniences in his day.

He shook his head again.

“You sure?”

“Mmm.”

“Ok, well…how about you just sit out here for a few minutes, ok? Come back out when you’re ready.”

Some days, Steve went about his day and felt almost like a normal human.

He woke up, he went to work, he chatted to his friends, he’d see Eddie whenever he could, kiss him and watch movies and eat dinner and everything was fine.

But some days, everything was too loud. The tag on the back of his t shirt scratched at his neck, the door to Family Video creaked a little too much and he felt it in his teeth, the lights overhead were too fucking bright and there were too many people demanding his attention all at once and it was like a flip switched somewhere and he went into shutdown.

He wasn’t quite there yet, but he was about to crest that wave, and everything would come crashing down then.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, too slow and too fast at the same time, and Steve waded through it like molasses, heavy and slow.

When Eddie sauntered in at the end of Steve’s shift, all warm smiles and soft eyes and familiar scent, Steve felt his heartbeat slow a little.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie murmured, looking him up and down and immediately wrapping his arms around him tight because there was no one else in the store and he knew, he always knew when Steve was having a bad day.

Steve sagged a little, pressing his face to Eddie’s neck, breathing him in, hands curling in the soft material of his Metallica t shirt.

“You still wanna go out, sweetheart?” Eddie whispered.

Steve nodded, most of the motion lost due to the fact he was practically burrowed into Eddie.

Eddie kept a hand on him the whole way to the diner. Whether it was holding his hand in the car, or allowing their pinkies to just brush as they walked side by side to the diner, or the gentle grip on the back of Steve’s shirt as they rounded the corner and saw the large queue outside the diner.

Steve’s stomach dropped.

He liked the diner.

It was familiar, he knew the menu by heart, he knew what he liked and the staff were friendly and happy to swap out a couple of the things on his plate because he always preferred his sauce on the side and he didn’t like tomato in his burger, and the music was never too loud and the lights were just dim enough that they didn’t irritate him to hell and back.

They hadn’t bothered to book tonight because it was never usually this crowded.

“I’m gonna go see what’s happening,” Nancy announced, striding past the queue towards the door.

Steve swallowed, shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie leaned in. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he breathed, “if it’s too busy, we can go home, ok? We can come back another day.”

He nodded.

Nancy returned, looking mildly irritated. “It’s some special they’ve got on, you get your food half price before seven pm, it’s already completely full in there.”

Eddie tilted his head, contemplating. “We could come back after seven, when the crowd’s thinned out?”

Robin groaned. “I’m starving, I gave half my lunch to Steve because he forgot his.”

Eddie glanced at Steve, fingers brushing the back of his arm briefly.

“We could go to that new place?” Nancy suggested. “The one on the corner? It only opened last week, it might be quieter since half the town’s here.”

Eddie’s gaze flicked to Steve again. “Maybe we just go home, do this another day,” he said carefully.

Steve wanted to speak, found his mouth glued shut, pulse thrumming in his ears.

“It’s Mexican, right?” Robin asked excitedly. “Yes, can we go there? Please?”

Steve liked Mexican food - when he could cook it himself, or when he’d been somewhere before and knew exactly what to order. But he’d have to study the menu at this new place, have to no doubt awkwardly ask them to omit some ingredient or another and what if they didn’t like that, he didn’t want to complicate things or make it uncomfortable for the others, and what if they had the music up too loud and he wouldn’t know where the bathroom was to retreat to so he might have to ask but what if he couldn’t get words out…

“Steve?” Robin was saying.

“Mmm?”

“Can we go?”

“Sure,” he said, because he’d give Robin the world if he could.

Robin clapped her hands, darted ahead with Nancy.

Steve went to follow, but was stopped by Eddie’s hand on his wrist, turned to see him looking at Steve with concerned eyes.

“Stevie…lets go home, huh?”

Steve shrugged him off. Started to walk determinedly, because Robin was excited and she was bounding ahead and Nancy was smiling bright at her and he wasn’t going to ruin this even though he was currently swallowing back tears.

“Steve -”

“It’s fine,” Steve snapped. “It’s nothing, ok? We’re just going to a different fucking restaurant, it isn’t a big deal, ok?”

“Sweetheart, just breathe for a second, ok.”

“I don’t need to…I don’t need to fucking breathe, we need to get to the restaurant because we’re already later than we usually are which means we’ll get home later which means I’ll have to be quicker to get ready for bed tonight so I get to sleep on time so that I’m not so fucking tired tomorrow and -”

Eddie pulled him to his chest. Hugged him tight in the street, in view of any passerbys, because Steve was about to fall apart and there was no other option.

Steve was crying, was still stammering his way through his explanation, his world shrinking to just Eddie and his own heartbeat booming in his ears.

Faintly, as if underwater, he heard Robin and Nancy, their concerned voices saying his name, Eddie telling them he was going to take Steve home, that he was ok, that they should carry on to dinner and he’d call them later.

“…Mrs Brown, she was yelling at me and her voice makes my skin crawl and she wouldn’t stop yelling and everything’s so loud today -” Steve was whining into Eddie’s chest, as Eddie ran a hand over the back of his head, scrubbing his fingers through his locks in the way that Steve loved but right now he needed to get away from here, needed to go home.

“Shhh, baby,” Eddie murmured to him. “I’ve got ya, we’re gonna head back to the car, ok? You can come home with me, I’ll run you a bath if you want one and get you something to eat, ok?”

Steve nodded as best he could, followed Eddie back down the street.

“Robin -” he started, voice miserable as they approached his car, as he wordlessly handed the keys over to Eddie because they both knew he couldn’t drive in this state.

“ – will be fine,” Eddie told him gently, “she and Nancy will have a nice night, and we’ll hear about it tomorrow, ok?”

“I ruined it,” Steve sobbed, breath hitching.

“You didn’t,” Eddie insisted, opening the door for Steve and gently guiding him into the passenger seat. He reached over, clicked Steve’s belt in, pressed a brief kiss to the side of his head. “Sweetheart, you didn’t. You’re allowed to have a bad day, ok? Shit, you know I’ve had plenty, and you’ve looked after me every time. Let me look after you, ok?”

Eddie kept the music on a low volume as they drove to his trailer. Loud enough that Steve could hear it, that it softly filled the silence because silence would’ve been too loud right now, but quiet enough that it didn’t irritate him at all.

It was just right.

And Eddie had one hand on the wheel and one hand cradling Steve’s, rubbing circles into the skin over his knuckles, keeping Steve here, keeping him present.

Wayne was working a night shift, which was fortunate for them tonight. Not that Eddie’s uncle would’ve minded Steve being there in this state, but Steve hated anyone seeing him like this – the less people around right now, the better.

Eddie led him inside, sat him down on the couch, gently lifted Steve’s arms up above his head and peeled his t shirt off him.

Steve sighed in relief at the tag no longer itching his neck, and then Eddie was draping the throw from the back of the couch over his shoulders, the soft one Steve loved to burrow under while they watched movies.

Eddie lay down at the other end of the couch, gestured for Steve. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Steve went. Draped himself over Eddie, fell into him easily, chest to chest. A soft noise escaped him when Eddie’s arms circled about his waist and squeezed, the pressure fucking lovely and Steve pushed his face into Eddie’s collar and hummed, index finger and thumb playing with a belt loop on his boyfriend’s jeans.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay like that. Eddie had turned the TV on at some stage, some nondescript show playing to give Steve a tiny bit of background noise. His eyes were closed, his breathing was evening out, his tears drying on his cheeks and on Eddie’s t shirt.

“Stevie?” Eddie whispered eventually. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Toast?” Steve asked quietly, hopefully, his voice small.

Eddie smiled into his hair. “Sure.”

Steve tipped his head back a little, feeling groggy and heavy and slow but better, calmer. “And please can you -”

“- cut the crusts off?” Eddie chuckled softly. “’Course I will.”

Steve smiled tiredly. He didn’t always need his toast like that, but today was very much a no-crusts day.

“And then if you’re up to it I’d like to run you a bath, ok?”

Steve nodded, briefly unhappy when Eddie detangled himself from him, slipping out from under Steve carefully.

When he turned to head for the kitchen, Steve reached out, clutched at Eddie’ wrist.

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Stevie.”

___

[antebunny]

IRONY

(Or: my take on a post Red Robin Dick & Tim reconciliation. Because they love each other so much, and that's why it hurts).

-

Tim can admit, once an alert pops up on his computer and he immediately opens up the live feed of Dick’s kitchen, that there’s some cruel, bitter irony in what he’s doing. Also quite a few broken laws, and bent morals, and some icky stuff which he would not like Dick to find out about. Inserting surveillance cameras and trackers all over your loved one’s property, after all, is Bad Sibling Behavior. After so long spent trying to be a good sibling, Tim is hardly going to admit what he’s doing to anyone else.

Because he’s stalking Dick. 

Like a creepy little obsessed fan. Or a creepy villain-adjacent stalker. Like a ten-year-old Timmy Drake. He never thought he’d be doing it again as eighteen-year-old Tim Drake. Nonetheless, he stalks and tracks and surveils Dick from afar without ever talking to him. It’s like old times. Jason is even alive again. Except that instead of Tim stalking the Bats because he was a lonely little ten-year-old left to rot in a huge mansion with no concept of privacy or boundaries, he’s a less-lonely eighteen-year-old who knows far too much about Dick Grayson. Too much because far too much has gone down between them for Tim to just…talk to the guy. It’s impossible. Definitely impossible. 

Tim misses the days of late night ice creams, arms resting on his head or slung over his back, trading skateboard tricks for tumbling tricks. He aches for those days with a hunger he didn’t know was possible after a childhood spent starving for affection. 

But they can never go back.

Which is why Tim learns that Dick isn’t taking his meds because his surveillance equipment detected a change in behavior. Dick usually goes to his kitchen, breaks out orange juice or soda or some energy drink from the fridge, and takes his meds. Tonight he did not. Tim doesn’t know what the meds are for, he’s not that much of an invasive creep. It’s enough to know that Dick is getting treatment. And Tim doesn’t have to talk to Dick to find out how he’s doing. It’s enough to stalk him from afar to check on his well-being. 

Now the question is: what can Tim do about it? He can’t ask Dick himself. That’s obviously out of the question. Dick would listen to Damian, but the brat resents Tim’s very existence, so best not try that route. Dick would listen to Jason, but Red Hood barely tolerates Tim nowadays, and Tim isn’t interested in owing him a huge favor for something he really should do himself, so not him either. Dick would maybe, maybe listen to Bruce, but that’s hit-or-miss. 

Tim calls Barbara. 

“I need a favor,” he says as soon as she picks up. “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” Barbara replies, immediately business-like. “What’s up?”

Tim spins around in his swivel chair. Best purchase for his lair by far. “Not cape stuff, sort of, or imminently pressing, well, it’s pressing, I just needed to make sure no one’s listening in.”

“As sure as I can ever be,” Barbara confirms dryly. Answer: there’s always a chance, in the Bats’ paranoid minds, that someone is eavesdropping. But according to Oracle, she’s in the clear, and it really doesn’t get better than that.

“So, don’t ask me how I know this,” Tim prefaces, knowing she’s about to find out about his surveillance cameras in Dick’s apartment (if she hasn’t already), “but Dick didn’t take his meds last night. I don’t know what they are, so I dunno how bad it is that he skipped, and I don’t wanna pry into your, uh, relationship with him but–”

“Dick and I aren’t talking right now,” Barbara says flatly.

So, they’re in the off-again part of their on-again, off-again relationship. Most of the time Tim is rooting for them. Sometimes he thinks they should do what he and Steph did and settle into a best friends for life relationship. 

“Right.” On his next rotation, Tim catches himself on the edge of his table. He taps one hand on the clear surface and thinks of possibilities. “Do you think he would listen to B–”

“No.”

“Right.” Tim tries not to sigh and fails. “Okay, uh. Jason?”

“Jason can’t keep a secret.”

Which is sort of unfair to Jason, but keeping a secret is relative. Compared to Barbara and Tim, Jason can’t keep a secret. And Tim is not one to argue if someone’s making fun of Jason.

“Cass? No. Same problem.” 

It’s against her very nature to lie. If Cass does hold a secret, it is by accident. Tim doesn’t want to leave this up to chance. This was easier when they had Alfred to mediate. 

Tim starts spinning in his chair again. His room whirls past. “What about his friends? Kori or Wally or…literally any of them?”

“I don’t see,” Barbara says, “why you’re avoiding the obvious solution of asking him yourself. He’d listen to you.”

He’ll listen to you. What a heavy, crushing promise to make. You have the trust of Nightwing. Nightwing, admired by the entire superhero community. It’s true, maybe, probably. That Dick will listen to Tim. He’s mostly sure of that now, after everything. That’s the problem, really. The “after everything” part of Tim’s confidence. Their trust is not from years of steady partnership, or slowly developed siblinghood. The trust Tim has in Dick originates from months of silence, of terribly intimate understanding, of shared grief and one horrible, nausea-inducing day. 

Dick hates when people leave him and when people fall and he can’t catch them. People don’t usually leave Dick Grayson, but Tim left and then he fell and Dick caught him. So Dick will listen, probably, maybe, if only because he doesn’t want Tim to leave. And Tim can’t ask, knowing that they don’t have the nice, easy brotherhood they ought to, the companionship siblings should have. Knowing Dick is only listening because he wants to keep Tim around. That’s the sort of fake compassion Tim spent his life running from. It’s not empathy, it’s sympathy. 

A vicious little voice that sounds like Janet Drake tells Tim that he should shut up and suck it up and accept whatever Dick gives him, because he’ll never be worthy of anything more. Tim slams his head into walls to shut that voice up. He won’t accept it. He cannot. He must not. 

“You’re not talking to him, are you.” Barbara’s voice has a tinge of that shaking-your-head condescension that drives Tim up the walls. The tone that carries that undercurrent of, why are you making this so hard, Tim? As if it’s so easy. As if everything that fractured Tim and Dick’s relationship is so easily repairable. 

Of course, Tim can’t explain that to Barbara. It sounds pathetic, even to himself.

“Bold words, coming from you,” Tim retorts.

Barbara sighs. “Look. At this point Damian has the best communication with Dick. And unless you have a way of tricking Damian into–huh.”

Tim, whose manipulative, stalkery little brain went in the exact same direction as hers, echoes her exclamation. “Oh. Yeah. Hm. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Unfortunately,” Barbara says, voice dry as the desert Tim was reborn in, “yes.”

The Belfry, a secret headquarters perfectly unobtrusive in Gotham’s old gothic and industrial skyline, was built by Tim and Barbara shortly after Bruce’s return. Since it’s so much newer than the Clock Tower, its inhabitants are not yet established. Where the Clock Tower houses the Birds of Prey, and Barbara’s friends in general, the Belfry sees a small but wide-ranging group of heroes coming in and out. Dick, Cass and Steph are the only other Bats to be allowed in.

Tonight, a little eleven-year-old boy crouches in the welcome darkness of one of the many nooks and crannies, dagger in his hands, and pretends with all his might that he belongs. 

“…at least wrap it,” Barbara is saying as she disengages the many, many security systems and enters the many passwords to get into the Belfry. 

“What’s the point?” Tim argues. “It’s not like–”

Both he and Barbara freeze. Tim raises a hand slowly to his belt. Barbara fingers one of the many buttons on her wheelchair. He gestures her to the left. They’re caught in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. With ceilings as high as a warehouse (it’s a bell tower, after all), those windows are high indeed. 

And then–

“Oracle. Red.” Damian emerges from the darkness like the little gremlin that he is, chin held high in his Robin uniform while he omits the Robin part of Tim’s new superhero name. “I have been here long enough that I could’ve killed both of you. How careless of you to not notice.”

Translation: Damian had been hoping to go unnoticed for longer.

“Here, where you most definitely do not have access,” Barbara points out. She wheels closer now that they know it’s just Robin.

Tim, while Damian is distracted with Barbara, sidles over to a table as stealthily as he knows how and sets down his package. 

“Clearly, your security standards are in need of upgrading,” Damian sniffs. Then his eyes narrow as he notices what Tim is doing. “Drake. What is that package.”

“None of your business,” Tim snaps back immediately. He moves to cover it with his back. “Get out of here. Invites only, you weren’t invited, you know how it is.”

Damian folds his hands behind his back and raises his nose. “It is for Grayson.”

“For Christ’s–how did you know?” Barbara demands.

“You just confirmed it,” Damian replies smugly.

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Okay. Fine. It’s for Dick. Happy now?”

“No.” Damian marches up to Tim, then folds his arms, dagger and all, over his chest when Tim blocks his path to the package. “Tell me what you are giving to Grayson.”

Tim leans back against the table and folds his own arms over his chest, affecting a casual state of relaxation he absolutely does not feel. “I said, none of your business.” 

In truth, there’s something so heart-breakingly ten-years-old about Damian’s behavior. His cool older brother is part of a cool group of friends with a secret hideout that Damian is not allowed into. Of course he broke into it. Damian, under all his bluster and bravado, wants to be a part of it all. He’s only human. He’s only eleven years old.

“You may be poisoning him,” Damian insists.

Tim laughs. “That’s more your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

Seems like Damian hasn’t yet heard the saying your wheelhouse, because he scowls but doesn’t respond. Oddly enough, Tim feels worse about that than he does about the actual insult. Kids are not their parents or the secret assassin society they come from, he knows, he knows this. Yet this intellectual knowledge always flies out the window in favor of emotional responses when it comes to Damian. 

“It’s not,” Barbara interrupts, before they can come to blows. “It’s just something to make him feel better, since he stopped taking his meds. Now will you leave?”

Damian scowls again, this time resembling an angry kitten more than a fearsome assassin. Not that he ever has resembled a fearsome assassin, despite all the assassination attempts. For all the pent-up resentment and bitter anger Tim has about Damian, he can’t help but find the kid a little cute. 

(The thing is, back before everything, Tim really wanted a little sibling. Back before everything, Tim used to dream about Jason coming back).

(Isn’t it funny how the universe keeps giving Tim what he wants just to spite him?)

“Fine.” Damian glares at both of them in turn. “Since both of you are so incompetent in taking care of Grayson, I will do it.” 

And he sweeps out of the Belfry with all the righteous fury that an eleven-year-old can muster. 

Tim and Barbara finally make eye contact after Barbara ensures, using the Belfry’s surveillance cameras, that Damian has exited the building for good. Then they both burst into laughter. The rafters ring with the force of it, pealing like the bells on Sunday morning. Barbara slaps her knee. Tim leans back on the table, hands clasped over his stomach, and shakes.

“I can’t believe,” Barbara says, once she’s calmed down enough to get a proper sentence out, “that we just tricked a kid into doing our dirty work for us.”

“Hey, if it works,” Tim says, voice full of mirth. 

He easily identifies himself as an adult despite only recently turning eighteen. It is impossible to feel like a child, he reasons, after waking up in the desert. After running Wayne Industries, however briefly. After striking out on his own. After everything.

Perhaps that’s why he gets along so well with Barbara these days. She understands that he is not a kid anymore, even if she wasn’t there for everything. Dick, on the other hand, still sees Tim as the kid he was. (As Robin). As the Before Everything Tim Drake that the real Tim is getting so very tired of thinking about. So what if he misses all of it, the good and the ugly? That’s just the nostalgia speaking. That’s just part of growing up. Tim had to grow up fast, so he did. He did what he had to do and he won’t let himself regret it.