#this whole weekend my brain has just been feeling too big. like physically like my head it being stretched out

[chemicaljacketslut]

literally how am i going to survive college and adulthood when one (1) weekend where i have to break routine & drive new (but easy) places by myself is making me so stressed out that i feel physically ill

[billthedrake]

BUCK ON BEEF

(Heads up: This one has some rougher oral sex.)

It was a perfect Spring day to sit inside and watch the Masters. As Tom Miller turned on the big screen TV and flipped through the channels, he undid his tie and the top botton on his Sunday-best dress shirt. No two ways about it, Tom was a big man, 6'2" and carrying his former linebacker brawn on his frame, along with that married girth and a big broad belly.... topping 300 on the scale.

Tom sometimes thought he should cut back on the Chik-Fil-A sandwiches, or the fries, or the few beers he planned to have watching golf. He could get back to his playing weight or something closer to it. But the banker and father of two felt comfortable in his body. He had a very pretty (and still thin) ex-sorority wife who was into her big cuddly teddy bear of a husband.

And god help him, his son Trey liked Tom's girth, too. Like, really liked it.

"Hey, Dad," the high school quarterback said in his teen voice which even at 18 seemed to deepen by the day. The 6'2" stud had already changed out of his church clothes and walked into the den in just a flimsy pair of his high school team shorts. If his dad looked, he'd see Trey already sporting a good shank of teen bone.

Tom did look. When he and Trey first started fooling around, the family man had tried to put the breaks on it. Now, he leaned into it, the whole insane physicality of this affair with his son.

"Jesus, kiddo..." he growled with a playful laugh. Did that kid always have sex on his brain?

"Come on, Dad... Mom and Chels are swimming at the club all afternoon. It's been a couple weeks since we've had a long session."

Tom got a shy look on his full, masculine face as he stepped up to Trey and lightly gripped his son's waist. Trey took charge of the kiss, though, like he always did. One hand behing his dad's neck, the other greedily cupping that meaty ass cheek through the man's trousers to pull in all that dad beef.

"Damn, Dad," Trey hissed, his blue eyes peering into his daddy's. He leaned back and openly appraised his father's build, the way that blue blazer opened up to frame that belly. Trey had been fucking Coach Carson lately, too, as well as Mr. Reynolds, his math teacher, but none of those other men had the amazing thickness of his father. Placing his hands right on that stomach, the jock hissed, "It's been a while since we've had date night, sir."

God, Trey knew how to make Tom feel like he was a young jock himself. Carrying on a bromance with one of the D-line players on that South Carolina roster of 98. "It has been," the man answered in a husky Southern drawl. "Maybe in a couple of weeks," he hissed. "I'll tell the girls that you and I are taking a guys weekend... catch a couple of Braves games."

Trey grinned. Like any Southern jock, he was more than a little spoiled and used to getting his way. "Sounds awesome, Dad." He relinquished his feel of Tom's belly and through his peripheral vision, the father could see Trey push those shorts down, all the way off.

Indeed as Trey stepped back, he fisted that giant QB tool. Ten inches and almost flashlight thick. Two heavy nuts dangled low from the hard shaft. "Why don't you suck my cock some, Dad?" he asked.

Tom didn't know where the kid inherited that big stick from. He himself had a respectable enough tool, thick and meaty, like the rest of him, but the son was about three inches longer than him. It was insane. "I thought I raised you to say please and thank you, son," he teased.

Trey nodded. "Yessir. Would you please suck my cock, Dad?" he laughed.

"Guess that's as good as I'm gonna get," Tom chuckled as he kicked off his loafers and undid his belt. He was rock hard and as he folded his trousers over the end of the sofa, he couldn't help but be pleased by how perpetually fixated Trey was on the dick that made him.

Now stripped from the waist down except for some dress socks, Tom sat down on the sofa, his burly 300-ish pound frame looking bigger in a seated position, that big belly hanging over, that neck looking fuller. He was still in church attire from the waist up, and he was hunkering down to suck some oversized son meat.

"God yes," Trey gasped as Tom slathered his meaty cock. The QB placed his hands on his waist and let his dad do the work getting reacquainted with that dick before starting to service the teen. Trey got off on the contrast between his nakedness and his father's clothed, bulky form. "Suck me, Dad. Fuck yes...."

Then feeling super horned up, the athlete spread his legs a little and gripped his father's skull. And he powered his way deep into his dad's gullet.

Tom coughed up some throat slime at the intrusion but sucked it off that prick and back down his throat.

"Come on, Dad," Trey hissed, hips pausing a second before resuming their deep pump. "You did this a couple nights ago no problem."

The thick spit was now dripping down the big man's chin and onto his dress shirt as the jock son fucked his face rigorously. As sloppy throat sounds filled the room, Trey's eyes averted to the TV... he grinned as he thought how his first JO fantasies involved big-bellied golfers... Mickelson, Harrington, Rahm... Trey would flog his big teen bone thinking of fucking those dudes from here to Sunday.

"All right, Dad," Trey hissed. His voice wasn't dominant but instead encouraging. He and his father had been working on this trick. With a rough shove, he pulled his dad's face flush to his crotch.

"One mississippi.... two mississippi..." the quarterback counted off. Tom's face flushed beet red as his esophagus felt crazy full with his son's hard dong, cutting off his air. "... six mississippi... " Tom Miller started to gag but kept it in check. This was like deep throating Reggie, his defensive jock buddy back in the day. But better.

"You got this," Trey hissed, so turned on by the spasms of his father's throat and the fact the old man would let him do this.

Tom coughed again, sputtering around his son's huge shaft.

"Eleven mississippi!" Trey beamed proundly as he pulled out his cock. A heavy strand of throat slime came out with it, some of it dribbling down Tom's chin, the rest hanging from the tip of Trey's stalk till it snapped off and fell right on his dad's half-unbuttoned dress shirt.

"Fuck, that's nasty," Trey growled in lust.

The first time he'd gagged on Trey, Tom had felt embarrassed. Now, he loved the horny limits-testing they did. Trey pushing Dad in some old fashioned throat training, Dad seeing just how much mind can win out over body.

Tom leaned in greedily and swiped up some of that excess mucus.

That cock twitched when he did, but Trey's voice got a deep neediness. "Leave some of that slime on there, Dad. It'll make good lube."

Tom nodded, now in synch with his son's horniness. Undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, he lay back on the couch, pulling his legs up.

"Goddamn, Dad," the young buck grunted, so turned on as he crawled up onto the sofa. His staff was angry-hard, and very wet from the throat job. He pushed it down to line it up with his father's slot. Normally, he'd enjoy the foreplay but Tom had worked up him too much, too fast. He didn't shove in but got a toe hold a half inch past the dadpucker.

"OOF!" Tom grunted. He would have admonished Trey, but his son knew what he was doing. Trey had never done anything but make the big man feel great.

The jock held steady and looked down on the 40-something bull of a man. Once again, he openly ran his hands over his dad's bulk, now able to touch the soft fur and bare skin. "I love your gut, sir... so fucking sexy."

An inch more dick pushed into his dad, who now more readily relaxed around that thick dong. Not only did Trey have the best throwing arm in Forsyth County, he surely carried the biggest dick around, too.

"I should probably slim down," Tom half objected. His son was so lean and muscular and perfect, the contrast did give the man a pause.

"Don't you dare," Trey laughed, spearing more meat inside his old man. "You could get bigger, Dad, and I'd fucking love it."

Tom grinned and pulled his arms back, hands behind his head, making the blazer and open shirt pull wide open. He was on full display for his son, gut and rounded pecs and all. "You a chubby chaser, son?" he asked. Before, he'd been too self conscious of his size around Trey, but now he wanted to know everything about what made his son tick.

Trey thought for a second, doing little micro-thrusts of his meat in and out of the daddy tightness. "Not really. I dunno... I just like having a lot of Daddy to hold onto." His hands were now on Tom's surprisingly firm, rounded belly, right as he pushed all the way in.

"You're tapping my hole, son," Tom hissed. This was always the most uncomfortable part of the fuck, but uncomfortable in a good way. It made Tom feel he was being taken for real. Even Reggie never tapped that second ring.

Trey nodded. "Want me to breach it today?" he asked.

Tom exhaled. "Fuck. I don't know." He wanted it, but each time Trey did was really fucking intense.

That son cock twitched inside the man's tight guts. It had taken them so long to work up to anal so readily, but it was now perfect for Trey... just the right relaxation of dadcunt to let him in, but still a hell of a lot of snugness around his prick. "Pull those legs, back," the QB urged.

Tom took a deep breath and did as instructed, pulling those thick thighs all the way back, and lifting his ass some in the process.

Trey waited a second, then pushed his hips all the way forward, driving his fat battering ram past the inner tightness.

"Oh my fucking GOD!" Tom yelled.

"Too much Daddy?" Trey checked in. It was vice tight way up there, and Trey worried this was too much for his father.

Tom exhaled again, biting his lip before responding. "God help me son, I want it. Work your cock over that entrance."

Trey grinned and examined his dad's big body as he did as instructed. Slow working back and forth over that ring.

"Fuck yes," Tom hissed. "My hung stud son..."

Trey got into it, making those strokes longer, knowing his dad was opened up inside. Pretty soon he was fucking harder and longer.

"Yes.... fuck me, son. Pound your daddy." Tom was geting into that wild, didn't-give-a-fuck part of the sex act. He needed this, all ten huge inches of Trey railing him.

It was like poppers to Trey, whose hips gained speed and power. He watched, wide eyed as that gut swayed with each power thrusts and those full titties bounced. That made him fuck harder, just to see those 300-plus pounds of beef jiggle more.

"Fuck!" Tom beat Trey's cum by two seconds, that dad dick spraying hands free all over his belly as his inner ring got battered.

And just as quickly, Trey's prick fucked on the slickness of his own seed. Finally the blur of those teen buck hips slowed to gentle sway, then a stop.

"Damn, Dad," the jock said, a little out of breath. "That was fucking hot."

Tom could only nod. Any thoughts had been fucked out of him. He was glad Trey was withdrawing as the deep fullness in his ass was getting too much, fast.

Trey had that satisfied look as he pulled back and knelt on the sofa, hands on his hips and still-hard meet sticking out, covered in fuck juices.

Tom scrambled to lean in, gently cleaning off his son's meat with long swipes of his tongue.

Now, he felt a little ashamed, and he wasn't sure the way Trey ruffled his hair affectionately made it better or worse.

He looked up at the TV once more then back at his dad. "I guess you want to watch your golf," Trey said. Maybe feeling a little bad he'd interrupted his father's Sunday ritual.

"Yeah," Tom said as he sat back in the sofa, his big belly falling over his sated genitals. Then he took another look at his hunky son. "Actually... how long did you say the girls would be at the Club?"

With a grin, he watched Trey's young buck cock jerk out into a fuck hard once more.

[autistic-rizz-king]

I can't focus on school. I don't know how to explain my quotes because they seem intuitive to how they support my thesis. Also, most of my evidence is from subtext, inferring intention, or recognizing tropes, cliches, and real-world stereotypes. It feels like I'm chained to my bed every morning and I physically can’t get up until I’m late for school. I'm doing so many different things and it feels like too much but I don't know how to just not do them. I'm doing so many things and brushing my teeth is at the bottom of my list. It's something I can easily do but even more easily not. I don't know why I'm like this. I do. I have ADHD and probably autism. It's terrible. I love myself. I’m amazing. But I feel like my brain is constantly self-sabotaging me. I am currently on my period which is a week late because I just started taking a type of hormonal birth control to stop having a period. So my emotions are turned up to eleven. I had a crapy weekend and nothing else in the world right now is helping me feel less crappy.

I have no idea how much I should be prioritizing school. It's not more important than my mental or physical health. I don't think it's more important than my social life. If I fail it miserably or drop out, it's not the end of the world. My life will still go on, and I'll still have different options to survive. But also I'll end up in a box on the street if I don't go to college. Aperently. Both of these facts are according to every adult in my life currently. And they would know best right? They’ve done this all before. They have relevant wisdom to give me, yeah? I’ve never done this before. I have no idea what’s going to happen. I have no reference points at all.

For the past almost 10 years of my existence, my life has revolved around school. I need to finish the next big project or my life will end. I need to get good grades, not cause it matters, but to “build good habits for high school.” no, scratch that, you are still building habits for college. Which you have to go to. But don't feel pressured to go to one. Don't feel pressured to make a decision that will decide the course for the rest of your life. It probably won't even affect the rest of your life whatsoever. Then why even go??? Oh, you don't even have to think about that right now. You're still a freshman. You still have three years till college! But you definitely need to decide by your senior year. So it’s more like two years. Except you should probably already have it figured out by junior year so you can start taking steps to begin your future. So you get one more year free. But that's still a whole year!! unless you take a gap year of course. I don't even know what's up with that. But I literally don't have anything else going on in my life right now, so I might as well plan my whole future. I mean, nothing I'm doing right now matters. Other than getting good grades so my GPA isn't tanked during my senior year. But that's only if you're going to college.

Am I going to college? What else am I supposed to do? I've gone to school my whole life. What, am I just supposed to just stop? Nothing else matters except school. But that's not true. So I fill my life with other things that don't matter. Probably in hopes of proving my life doesn't revolve around school. But also, these things are straight-up fun to do. Am I supposed to care about school because it's my friend and wants to help me? It doesn't feel very helpful. It has consistently been the source of multiple burnouts and breakdowns.

All the upperclassmen that come into class to speak about their freshman year experience, they presented themselves as “delinquent kids” that “screwed their future-selves over” But it's ok! They were able to turn around and now they’re on track to have a successful life. And it's not too late for us!

Oh! Remember to start taking more challenging classes! Because colleges like a 3.8 GPA where you took very very challenging classes much more than a 4.0 GPA where you took very easy classes. So fill your schedual with AP and IB classes now! They don't care if you already cry yourself to sleep every night with just the basic core classes, everyone knows that every single person learns at the same level across all subjects!!!!!! BUT ALSO DON'T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT WHAT CLASSES YOU'RE TAKING RIGHT NOW YOU DUMB MORON!!! YOU'RE PUTTING TOO MUCH PRESSURE ON YOURSELF FOR NO REASON!!!!! You're doing this to yourself. Go to therapy.

I am in therapy. I'm talking about my feelings. And they're talking back to me. We are talking. I'm getting better at not exploding and doing something I'll regret later. Or regret getting punished. But the world is still shitty. I'm still forced to follow the court order the judge gave my parents when they were divorced. I'm still forced to let my father parent me even though he had no parenting experience. But I'm talking about school right now. I guess.

Oh, update. I just lost a big chunk of the data I collected for an experiment in physics I'm doing. No one else is doing my experiment. I'm working alone. I closed the tab and it didn't save. I actually think the project I'm doing is really fun. I'm testing how the height a marble is dropped from and the distance a loop de loop is from where the marble was dropped affects whether or not the marble makes it around the loop. The graph looked really cool and had very clearly defined zones in which the ball made it around, partially made it around, and fully made it around. I don't want to redo it. It takes way too long to set up the track at the right measurements. Oh and apparently a project worth a decent amount of my grade was deleted. My partner was in charge of recording and submission and some weird shit happened.

I don't care. I'm having a bad day. I want to go home. Except I feel incredibly guilty about skipping school because “important” stuff happens in school that can make it difficult for me to catch up. What if I just stop trying in school? I'd probably be a lot happier. If you ignore the immense guilt my loved ones will probably put on me. They’ll say, “But you were such a gifted kid! What happened??” I'm gifted because I'm neurodivergent. I'm exceptionally good at most stuff without trying when first starting out. So people think I don't need help. But suddenly “wait, I'm really struggling. I don't know what to do.” “what do you mean?? You were fine before. Other people your age are doing completely fine. They're getting decent grades, are in extracurriculars, and have grade social lives. And they're not complaining like this.” That’s a lie. My close loved ones probably wouldn't say that stuff. But living in this world is so tiring.

For all the hate I just gave about school, I do think a dedicated place to learn about the world is a very good idea. It’s just adults put an absurd amount of pressure on children to live up to their arbitrary standards. It's sickening. I want to violently unravel the existence of American society and live in a nomadic limbo for the rest of time. One more thing; the world is burning in every way imaginable and I plan my future to distract myself from the fact that I may not even have one.

[mercy-burning]

Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[acrosstobear]

Callum Ilott talks racing accidents, tragedy and mental health

Callum Ilott pauses, takes a deep breath and prepares to answer.

It seems a pretty straightforward question to deliver a response to: are racing drivers affected after a crash or seeing a team-mate or rival have an accident? But it’s a deeply personal topic for the 22-year-old.

The Formula 1 rising star saw the aftermath of a tragic collision at Spa during his F2 days which claimed the life of his close friend Anthoine Hubert and seriously injured team-mate Juan Manuel Correa.

Ilott’s retort after taking some time to consider his thoughts shows the long-lasting effects of the heartbreaking incident. But it also begins to help reveal the psychology of racing drivers and how they deal with the inevitable dangers that come with driving at speeds of 200mph or more.

Callum Ilott opens up about the death of Anthoine Hubert

“To satisfy my own mental state I spent that whole evening and the next day analysing what happened,” the Ferrari Academy Driver said of the 2019 crash.

“In my mind I almost completely understood why it happened and it felt easier to accept it. I go through it and piece it together. I’d lost a good friend and my team-mate was fighting for his life. It was an ongoing process to deal with it.

“You can’t change what happened but he’d (Anthoine) changed me – not because of the accident – but because of how he was, how he influenced people and I took quite a few lessons from him. I took it upon myself to make changes, inspired by him.

“Everyone says ‘you’re doing it (racing) for him’, but I’d rather take the lessons that he gave me as it’s a greater impact than doing it for him. It can happen to anyone and you have to take every chance and moment you get in life, that was one of the lessons I took. It helped change my values and understanding of some things.”

Karting isn’t the safest but neither is rugby, says F1 talent

Like almost all professional drivers, the Cambridge-born talent started out in karting where he “enjoyed the speed” rather than feared it. His biggest concern was making mistakes.

Even though he saw people roll their karts and break their collarbones, his safety was more of a concern to his mum than himself as he continued to calculate and process the risk – a method that remains to this day.

Ilott said: “A lot of possibilities have to come together and at least nine times out of 10 you can get away with a crash and maybe one time you don’t.

“Karting wasn’t the safest thing but then you could say neither was rugby at school, all it takes is someone to do a high tackle or you fall funny and you could be in hospital or a wheelchair for the rest of your life. Anything can happen but I don’t look at things in a negative way.

“When it’s someone close to you that has an accident there’s obviously emotion attached to it. But it’s all facts and statistics for me. At the end of the day you’re in this sport and you’re in this position. If the stats were a bit higher then I think I would be concerned but at the moment you just hope it doesn’t happen to you. A lot of improvements continue to be made in terms of safety too.”

Alfa Romeo reserve relives dramatic Formula 1 test crash

So what happens when it’s you who is involved in an accident? When you have a massive smash that leaves you seriously injured or feeling incredibly lucky to be alive?

Ilott, a reserve for Alfa Romeo, had his biggest crash while testing for the team two years ago. He’d just set his best lap of the day at Barcelona on his F1 test debut when the rear snapped in a fast right-hander and sent him careering into the barriers at around 130mph.

“You have to crack back on,” admitted the 2020 F2 runner-up.

“Whilst you’ve got time you can feel sorry for yourself and punish yourself. It can be a greater lesson than moving on. For one week I don’t think anyone could really talk to me. Physically I was almost completely fine, I had a bit of pain in my back, but it was all mental. To me it was more related to my career.

“It was a big moment to have and then to have that end result, in crashing, so I was more worried about my career. In one or two weeks I was back in Formula 2, it was a distraction to get going again. You can get out of the spiral and get on with what you’re doing. You learn your lesson and take the best side of it.”

Being a passenger unsettles the Ferrari Academy starlet

The Adrian Flux-sponsored driver says it takes him within three corners to know the limit, within 5%, of the vehicle he is operating.

And he is sure that’s what sets professionals aside from anyone who steps behind the wheel of a car.

“Depending on the car and conditions, I will drive to how I feel safe,” concluded Ilott, set to make his IndyCar debut in America next weekend.

“On an Autobahn in Germany in the wet, I won’t go above 150kmh (93mph), at risk of aquaplaning. In dry, I can push to 300kmh (186mph) easily and as long as there’s no traffic I won’t worry. I’m aware of limits. I’m very happy to take a car to 300 and wouldn’t bat an eye, I’d quite enjoy it. If I was in the passenger seat, and someone took it to 300, I’d be very nervous.

“I’ve been on track days with friends and I’m helping them out a bit and straight away they go out and I’m like: ‘Woah, woah, woah, woah, you don’t realise how close you are to the limit already. You can’t push that much more and control the car’. A lot of people can drive but it’s always the last little bit and understanding what to do when it’s not perfect conditions.

“It’s very natural with us because we train. A marathon runner knows what pace they can run at all the time and what will last them until the end of the race. It’s the same as a cyclist – if they start to push over the limit they know when they’ll drop off at the end.

“I wouldn’t say we’re wired differently, racing drivers just know the limits of what we’re in and what we can do a lot more than other people. We’re very aware of the limits of each car we get in. It’s all calculated and you can feel and understand where that is and it automatically enters your brain. My body will say ‘that’s your limit’ and you just know depending on the conditions.”

What is professional racing driver Callum Ilott afraid of?

So does anything scare a man who flies around a track knowing one slight mistake could see him hurtling towards a tyre wall, giant slab of concrete or a huge metal barrier at high speed?

“I don’t like the unknown,” added Ilott who is dreaming of an F1 seat in 2022.

“When I was younger, I don’t mind it so much now, but when you’re snorkelling and you get to the edge of the reef and there’s the drop off – you’re staring down and you think ‘what the hell is down there, how far does it go?’

“It’s not the dark, but what’s inside it? Your mind becomes the enemy. Whatever you think is down there, is down there. That’s something I’ve gradually got used to because I’ve learned why. I don’t like spiders either, but I’m not scared of them.”

[twinklelilstarkey]

can i request an angst rafe imagine where he’s just in a really bad mood and the reader is over at his house trying to do anything she can to make him feel better (baking him cookies, buying him this watch that he’s had his eye on, etc.) but he ends up snapping at her and saying some really hurtful things towards her, resulting in her ready to leave with tears running down her cheeks and rafe barely even realizes what he’s done before it’s too late

A/N: I really liked this request, so I’ll incorporate an idea that I had a few days ago [Best Friends].

Hurt - Rafe Cameron

Pairing: Highschool!Rafe x Highschool!BestFriend!Reader

Words: 2.9k+

Type: Angst

Warnings!!!: Mentions in use of drugs. Cursing. Abusive Friendship. Possible self-harm (biting the cheek). Female!Reader. As always, no race of the reader is mentioned.

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

“Good evening, my sweet little chicken” You say loudly as you enter Rafe’s room.

You and Rafe have been best friends ever since 5th grade. You two met at the cafeteria when you decided to share your PB&J with him, since he looked very disgusted with his salad. Ever since then, you two were always in the same classes and always doing group projects together.

So, we can all say that a friendship was easily born.

Rafe is an ass, yes, that is very true. Many people believe you’re too nice to even talk to him, but you try your best to never listen to them. But, honestly, if you won a dollar every time people told you ‘he’s gonna hurt you’, you would be as rich as Rafe by now. And you’re already, indeed, a full Kook.

“I’m occupied” Rafe warns in a low tone voice, not taking his eyes off his screen.

“That’s fine” You say with a shrug and your smile, noticeably not budging with his words.

You crouch to pass in front of the TV, trying your best not to intervene with his video game. You throw your bag to the ground, beside Rafe’s bed, and then lay down next to where he’s sitting.

You snuggle into his pillow, almost sighing at how comfortable it is, and Rafe continues to stay silent and focus on the screen.

Not even 10 minutes later, he lets his controller fall to his bed, under his hands, and lets out a loud groan of annoyance.

You lift your head to look at him and you see him covering his face with his hands.

“You good?” You ask in almost a whisper.

Rafe breathes in, still not answering, and uncovers his face to look down at you.

He looks extremely annoyed.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, changing the subject, with his annoyed expression.

Damn. That was harsh. His expression and tone make it seem as if you’re not only welcome but wanted here.

“Uhm...” You start, but as your voice cracks a bit, you clear your throat, “I just came to hang out. Just like. Every weekend...?”

You sit up as you stop talking, unsure of your words.

Were you supposed not to come today? Did you forget to read one of his messages asking to stay alone?

“Why?” You ask.

He shrugs, looking away as he pulls his phone of his pocket. “No reason”

(...)

Saying Rafe is in a bad mood today is a big understatement. Not that it is rare, but you’re usually able to make him feel better.

Today is different.

“Can you please get the fuck out of the way?!” Rafe shouts, making you jump on your feet and you look at him with widen eyes.

“I literally am out the way!” You shout back.

How can he be so fucking annoying?

You’re literally just grabbing your laptop from your backpack, so you can actually be entertained with something other than his God-awful gameplay. You even made sure to run and not stand in front of the TV for too long.

“Fucking bitch” Rafe whispers under his breath.

You throw your laptop to the desk, making it loudly fall onto the wood.

“You have some fucking nerve” You say while turning to look at Rafe.

He looks at you quickly before looking back at his TV, swearing under his breath as he notices that you heard him.

“How am I a fucking bitch, Rafe?” You ask, sounding more than pissed at him, “What could I possibly have done for you to call me that?”

“Nothing” He answers, not bothering enough to look at you.

“Oh, fuck no” You say louder, “You are not going to play the ‘I don’t want to talk now’ card with me today. That’s for god damn sure”

“Y/N, can you please just sh-”

“Shut up?” You tell him, already knowing from a mile away what he was about to tell you.

He doesn’t say anything, but he does pause his game.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, looking at you, leaning his hand on his fist.

“Why did you call me a bitch?” You ask slowly.

“Because you’re obviously acting like one” He answers as slow.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re saying that me coming over like every single fucking weekend and bringing you cookies is me being a bitch?” You ask, confused with his words, “You really do love to make sense, don’t you?”

He clenches his jaw.

You stare at him, waiting for at least a word to come out of his mouth, but nothing.

“Well,” You start, “Since my presence is so unwanted here, I’ll start making my way home, then”

You bite the inside of your cheek and grab your laptop from the desk, biting the hurt and pain, that Rafe is starting to cause, away.

“Thank you” Rafe whispers to himself as you pack up.

You zip up your backpack and look at the glass of water sitting beside you.

You turn back around, sliding the bag over your shoulder, and grab the glass.

“Have a nice rest of your day, dickhead” You say before throwing all the water right as his face.

You didn’t exactly see his reaction, since you walked right passed him and out of the bedroom, but you know that he’s mad.

You could already feel a metallic taste over your tongue, but you still felt numb to any physical pain.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe shouts from his room as you slam his door closed.

Sarah stands in the hallway, innocently walking over to her bedroom with an ice cream in her hand. She looks over her shoulder as she hears the loud sound of the door and her eyes widen at you.

The door behind you opens and you walk over to the stairs, trying to keep a distance from Rafe.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams, repeating himself.

“With me?!” You shout, now letting the whole house hear you as you turn around to look at him, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Rafe?! You’re unbelievable.”

“I didn’t even do anything”

“Of course, you didn’t. You never do anything. Other than fucking insult me and make me feel like shit”

“Do you think you made me feel any better? You always get out of these arguments as if I’m the bad guy. You’re not a fucking saint, Y/N”

“Are you serious, right now?” You ask, “What drugs could’ve you possibly taken that messed up your mind this bad, Rafe? You’re the one in the bad mood, insulting me and making me know that you don’t want me close to you, but in some way, in your cocaine filled brain, you feel like I was also making you feel bad?... Give me a break”

That struck a nerve in him. Hard.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, and this is not even me insulting you. I’m just describing you as a whole person. Why do you think people don’t want to hang out when we’re together?” He pauses and your heartbeats quicken, “Uh? Oh yeah, because everyone fucking despises you on this island”

You stay quiet. But he’s still not done.

“I’m the only fucking person that has ever cared for you. Nobody has ever blinked an eye your way. Because you’re not fucking special, okay?” He asks, anger boiling on his veins, “You aren’t as nice as you like to believe you are. You’re annoying, and really fucking clingy”

You open your mouth to speak but he doesn’t stop.

“I’ve looked out for you for years. Beaten up people that talked shit about you. Protected you from everyone. But, shit” He scoffs, “Maybe they were fucking right after all”

Your eyes start to fill up with tears.

“All the shit they’ve said about you. You know what I’m talking about? That, firstly and obviously, that you’re a bitch. That you’re a whore, a fake, a girl that just wants my fucking money-”

“Rafe, sto-” Sarah tries to say.

“Oh, you better shut the fuck up, Sarah. This has nothing to do with you”

“I don’t give a fuck!” She shouts louder than him, “You aren’t going to say anything else”

Rafe takes his eyes off you to look at his sister and you try to control your unstable breathing just so you don’t start falling apart right in front of him.

Sarah’s soft hand holds yours carefully and she pulls you to her side.

“I’ll take you home” She whispers, only to you.

Rafe scoffs at you two looking at each other and holding hands and shakes his head.

“Are you going to manipulate her now too, Y/N? Now that you don’t have me anymore, you’re going to use my sister as your way to have at least a single friend?”

“Just stop” You say, voice shaking and cracking, “Please”

And he does.

Sarah pulls you towards the stairs and you two walk down them, letting Rafe upstairs with himself.

At the lobby of the house, Ward, Rose and Wheezie were looking at you. They were probably coming out from the living room when the argument started.

Your hands are shaking, your breathing is getting out of control and the tears are making it hard to see what’s in front of you.

The looks of pity that everyone gave you came unnoticed to you. Even Rose felt affected with the argument and how you look like now. Ward shows pure disappointment. And Wheezie? She just wants to run to you and give you a hug.

You and Sarah walk out of the house and she pulls you towards her car.

“Sarah,” You start, “I think I want to walk home”

“Okay, I’ll walk with you”

Walking on your way home was painful, his words were sinking into your brain, making you want to hide from the world and just scream. You cried silently. Sarah, not wanting to make anything worse, just laid her hand over your back, comforting you silently.

When you walked to your bedroom, all the pain broke loose.

You screamed into your pillows, cried into your bed, and let everything out.

Sarah stayed. Hugging you while you cried, whispering to you what he had said wasn’t true.

But it wasn’t enough to stop your crying or even your pain.

The sight of you in this much pain made it seem to an outsider that, maybe, your boyfriend broke up with you or worse, even, something bad had happened to that boyfriend or friend.

But it was worse. You lost your best friend. The only person you have ever completely trusted and truly loved. And you lost him over his hurtful words getting the best of you.

People had warned you about this for years. You lost friends over him... for this. For this day to come and your best friend to be ripped out of your hands by his own words.

And you know that he’ll be fine without you, you’re sure of it. He’s Rafe Cameron. Everyone would kill to hang out with him and be on his group. And his side is now empty, ready to be filled by another someone.

You, on the other hand, don’t know what will happen. You have Sarah and Wheezie. But other than that? Nobody. Not even a soul.

(...)

Two months went by. Summer break ended and you’re back in school, finally finishing high school. You’re more than ready to get the heck out of the Outer Banks.

No, you haven’t seen or talked to Rafe ever since the argument. You believe he tried to call you 2 times for these past two months, but you didn’t answer any of them (thinking that probably it was a drunk miss-dial).

You had grown to be very close with Sarah. She helped you through the whole way of hating Rafe and not caring about him.

But other than her, you’re on your own.

Which is fine. You’re okay with that. You couldn’t care less, honestly.

“See you after class” Sarah says, before kissing your cheek and walking to her class.

You smile at her as she walks away, and you close your locker. You look through the hallway, filled with people, and decide to also start walking to class.

The room was mostly empty, some people are on their phones while sitting at the front. So, you decide to do the complete opposite and sit at the back, next to the window, ready to just listen to some music before hell begins.

You put on your air pods and start your playlist as you pull your books and notebook off your bag, curious on what the heck you’ll be studying this year.

You just want to be prepared for it before it begins, you know?

Not even 5 minutes later, the whole classroom is almost full. Nobody has sat beside you yet, thankfully. And you’ve been scribbling on the sides of your notebook for the time being.

The chair beside you is pulled back but you don’t look up to see who it is. Big mistake. The person sits beside you, but you continue to slightly bob your head to the music, unfazed by whatever is happening.

A wave of laughter makes you look up at your class, but you flinch when you notice Rafe, on his phone, sitting right beside you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, pulling your air pod out of your ear.

Rafe looks up from his phone and shrugs before answering.

“In school or next to you?” He asks playfully and you don’t even blink an eye, you’re not in the mood for jokes, “The seat was empty, and I always sit next to you”

“Well, can you leave and go sit next to Topper?” You ask, “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to be sitting beside you”

“Kelce is going to sit there”

“Well, then tell Kelce to sit next to me. It’s not that hard”

He doesn’t move at your words, making you roll your eyes and lean back onto your chair, already tired and ready to leave this class.

“You’re still mad at me over what happened?” He asks and you scoff lightly.

“Take a guess” You answer him.

Rafe opens his mouth to speak but a louder voice stops him.

“Alright everyone, let’s start this class! I hope everyone had an amazing and eventful summer” The teacher starts, and everyone quiets down.

(...)

“Can we please just talk?” Rafe asks as he stands beside you, waiting for you to finish packing your stuff.

“No”

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain something to you”

“There’s nothing to explain”

You throw your bag over your shoulder and make your way to the hallways, going to grab your books for next class. And Rafe is standing right behind you.

“I really didn’t mean anything that I said that day” He says, leaning on someone’s locker, beside yours.

“Sure, Rafe”

“I’m serious. I was high and angry out of my mind, I couldn’t control what I was saying” He explains, and you continue to not look at him as you look through your schedule, “You have to believe me”

“No, I don’t”

“Y/n, please, you’re my best friend”

“Was your best friend, Rafe. Was” You correct him, “Now, can you leave?”

“Nothing that I said was true. I don’t think you’re a bitch, or any of the things I said. I made all of that up”

“Interesting” You comment sarcastically.

Rafe sighs and closes your locker, so you can look at him.

“Please, just hear me out” He starts, “I just want our friendship to go back to normal, okay? I’m the worst at this and you know it. I hate that I made you feel the way you did. I didn’t mean it; you have to believe me”

You look at him silently.

“No” You say in a low tone, shaking your head at him, “I’m not forgiving you”

“Y/N, pleas-”

“Rafe, no” You repeat, “You had two fucking months to do this. Where were you, uh?”

He stays silent.

“You’re only my friend whenever it’s convenient for you, Rafe” You say and he shakes his head, “You don’t give a shit about me and how I feel. We both know that. And these two months of silence just proved enough for me to not want to talk to you ever again”

“Can you just give me another chance?” He asks, “So we can start all of this over and I promise you that I’ll never do anything similar to this again”

“No, Rafe. I’m sorry but you don’t have any chances left” You say, shrugging.

You open your locker back up and grab your last book. Rafe stood there, looking at you with an expression you’re not too familiar with. Sadness.

“Have a nice life, Cameron” You say before closing your locker back up.

You turn around and start walking over to your next class.

Rafe doesn’t move, he just stands there. Watching you walking away from him without your usual smile and wave.

A pain is slowly settling over his chest, weighing him down into the ground, making him want to crumble in shame. This pain isn’t familiar to him, at all.

But he’s hurting.

And this time,

He’s on his own.

- - - - - -

I love this ending. Is so angstyyy!

[datawyrms]

Ectober Day 30/6 Summoning

On Ao3

One downside to pillow forts: it was easy to drop off when you were meant to be planning. He didn’t really think it would be possible when he’d gotten the laptop, but he had. All of them did, possibly just so emotionally exhausted that their brains shut off.

Well, he’d been a bit physically exhausted too. The faint, fleeting memories of something he couldn’t get away from touching him gave him goosebumps every time, even as Danny did his best to hide his own discomfort with a bitten lip and wrinkled brow. Really, he just wanted to give the guy a hug, but wasn’t sure if that would make him feel safe, or just worse. He definitely wasn’t going to ask the demon if he felt the need to lean or snuggle with others before the fae incident happened…but he had the uncomfortable feeling his friend picked up that habit in that terrible, helpless time and never shook it off. Some ingrained behaviour to try and make whoever he was with happy, instead of for his own comfort.

What a way to start a weekend. That they were going to spend trying to get rid of some fae creature? He’s had less absurd dreams than this. They should be safe until tonight though, if this guy was so big on the moon he probably wouldn’t do anything while the sun was up.

“This is so weird.”

“Says the demon.” Sam didn’t even look up this time, as Danny had been something to that effect for the past hour they’d been practising near the abandoned docks and warehouses.

“It is! I slap this on my hand and it makes ice come out? I know cold fine but not like enough to do anything with it.” The demon gestured to a frosted crate as if shocked it existed.

“Not any weirder than you just melting into shadows dude.”

“I’m meant to do that!”

The whole ‘meant to do’ thing was a bit of a roadblock, as the demon didn’t even want to consider some spells for being ‘too weird’ or ‘unnatural’. He barely agreed to trying the ice out after he’d managed to rationalize cold was an absence of heat. “And humans can’t do any of these without a demon, your point?”

“That humans are weird and I don’t get you.” Danny threw up his hands before flopping back on the ground. “And it’s tiring. Why is it tiring, you don’t even do anything!”

“You can just make energy out of nothing, it has to come from somewhere.” Sam was still sketching away at her ‘backup’ plan. “You sure you aren’t hungry Danny? You’ve been human for awhile today.”

“Never will be.”

The fact Danny chose right then to melt back into shadows gave Tucker the distinct impression he was lying about that. Hopefully he didn’t tire himself out too much with the practice, trying to convince the demon to try something to eat just sounded like a bad idea. “Ddo we really have to put up a fight before going to the tricking part? It sounds like it could go badly.”

“He’s not gonna ditch the skinsuit if we’re going along with what he wants.”

“Elliot, Danny. His name’s Elliot.”

“No if he’s too dead to complain about it.”

“So we shouldn’t bother not hurting Wulf either?” Sam’s clipped tone had the demon shrinking back, the glow of his eyes dimming.

“Okay okay. If he wants to do any of the more painful fae things, he needs to let go of Elliot. If he doesn’t need them, he won’t bother letting go. Especially if he can use all these rune things no trouble.”

“What sort of things?”

“Oh the usual. Compulsions and moonlight chains. Forcing things to change. Nothing pleasant. I don’t think he can use those hiding in a human...I might be wrong.”

Tucker had to rub at his throat as Danny spoke, a disquieting tightness forming there. He was not nearly as unworried as he was trying to sound. “Well there’s a reason he’s hiding, right?”

“It better not only be cold iron that works or we’ll be in trouble.”

“They’re delicate. Big wings, thin limbs that you can break easily. That’s why they play all sweet and nice to humans, you’ve got strong arms. And salt. Lots of that around.” Phantom decided to adjust his resting position to lean against Sam, watching her work. “It’s why they don’t like us much, most demons can fight for themselves if they have to. A fae that messes up enchanting a human probably has to let them go while a demon can still just kill em.”

More notes for the USB drive of magic. “Which is why they’re better at tricking and rules lawyering than you are?”

“No they aren’t, they just cheat more.” Phantom’s flicking tail gave his annoyance away. “He’s probably able to use that collar because I ‘owe’ him for ‘taking care’ of me for all those years…”

Sam’s eye twitched, pausing to double check that the demon was comfortable. “Well that’s just bullshit.”

“That’s fae for you. They’re just good at twisting people into what they want. Any offer is going to have a secret drawback.”

“I’m offering a special on two for one kicks in the gut.”

Tucker sighed. At least they were getting along better? “I’d rather stay out of grabbing range.”

“Wulf is pretty fast, so I wouldn’t plan on being able to.”

Great! Getting chased by a giant demon wolf was totally his idea of a good time. That wasn’t even counting any other demons he might have. At least they all were on the same page on wanting to fight Gregor. His ‘allies’ wouldn’t push on without orders, most likely. “Uh, Danny? Will your illusion still work if you’re human?”

The whole ‘trick the bad guy with a fake circle’ plot wouldn’t exactly work if he could see what it was actually for. He’d been trying to find one similar enough to overlook, but even the closest one was still clearly incorrect. Summons needed way more binding lines than a transfer. Gregor would probably catch that, considering he actually seemed to know how they worked while Phantom didn’t. 

“I didn’t actually think about that” the shadow blinked and vanished, a small weight dropping on his shoulder, snickering as Tucker jumped at the green eyed thing using him as a perch. “It might vanish, I don’t really think about maintaining them?” A lazy sort of circle sketched itself on the ground before his eyes. “So you see that, even though nothing’s there.”

“Mhm.” If only the demon could explain how he made them see things that weren’t really there beyond ‘it’s what I’m good at’.

“So if I stop being me, but keep thinking about it…” the weight on his shoulder vanished as a boy stumbled out of the ground, shaking his hands. “You still see it?”

Well, it was still there, but less…convincing. He could almost see issues if he looked from different directions. “Kind of?”

Danny frowned, green overtaking blue as he scowled at the illusion. “I don’t think I can make it as convincing as I usually do.”

“At least it’s going to be dark. It might be good enough.” He hoped it was. If they acted scared of the creepy fae man, maybe that would make up for the oddness.

That only made the demon look more irritated. “I don't do good enough. I do perfect mimics.” 

“Well today you’re doing good enough. Chill.” Sam chucked a package of jerky at his head, not blinking at the disgruntled ‘ow’.

“What was that for?” Danny looked at the package like it was a knife and not something Tucker bought at a drug store snack aisle.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Try eating.”

“I don’t eat.”

“Demon you doesn’t. Human you has a growling stomach and you suck at hiding it.”

He repeated himself, kicking the bag off in Tucker’s direction. “I don’t eat.”

“I promise you that is the least magical food in the entire world. Some innocent pig was slaughtered, ground into paste and drowned in flavouring and salt to dry it out so people like Tucker can munch on flesh without needing to cook it.”

“It is delicious no matter how gross you try to make it sound.” He retrieved the poor kicked bag of snacks, brushing the dirt clear of the bright packaging.

Sam only rolled her eyes. “Figured a demon might be more of a meat eater if you’re into the whole taking souls thing. No way some magic trickster did anything to that bag. That’s 100% human cruelty, baby.”

“Oh so you’ll offer the demon meat but tell me it’s wrong,” he said in mock offence, figuring playing along might help.

“The demon has a trauma based excuse. You’re just not bothered enough to eat less of it.”

“I think I get to be a bit evil if we have a demon, and my evil of choice is tasty.”

Danny went back to his demon form instead of answering, but his eyes did seem to linger on the bag before he zipped out of sight again. Did he even know what it was like to feel hungry? That was probably a weird thing to feel for the first time after so long without. Wasn’t much he could do to convince him to try, not with how the fae used food against him. No matter how much it worried him that the demon might be feeling weak.

At least they figured out if they wanted to fire something, it was easier to just tape the rune to their palms and trigger it with a finger or thumb. Barriers worked better on the ground, but made it harder to keep the spell to reuse. Which was going to make the plan of possibly ‘boxing in’ Wulf so he couldn’t attack them difficult. Those claws looked sharp enough to rip through if they took too long. Good thing he had lots of paper to go with the printer!

“I think this is the best we’re going to get.” Sam eyed the mess all their practicing had created, half scorched paper and crates cracking with frost making the place look far worse than it had in the morning.

“I think I’ve got good spots for most of the barriers, but if it starts raining we’re in trouble.” The sky didn’t look cloudy, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t rain. Or that their attacker might not just use water himself.

“You’re really not going to double cross me, right?” Phantom wasn’t visible still, not showing himself even as they both looked for him.

“If we were going to do that, we’d just put you in a thermos and hand you over. It’s not going to happen.” Sam gave up looking with a shrug and went back to adjusting her bag to keep everything in easy reach.

“Even when he threatens you? He’s going to. You and your families.” Green eyes blinked up from the shadows, oddly timid instead of eerie. “That’s how they get you, when they start getting the upper hand.”

“Hey, our backup plan is your sister. You think it’s a good idea to betray you when she’s going to show up and rip our faces off?”

“...If I can. I don’t know if it will work.”

“The ice stuff worked okay.”

“Not when I’m myself though.” Slowly he finished creeping out of the shadows, tapping one of the prepped runes with a clawed hand. “They don’t even react unless I’m human.”

“It’s a secret weapon. You don’t need them if you’re hiding out for a bit or being a distraction.” Tucker crouched next to him as his demonic friend seemed to shrink back.

“Do you need something else?” Sam prompted, but kept her distance.

“One of the circles you had looked familiar. Dangerous.”

Considering how often the demon insisted he didn’t know much about how written magic worked, it struck him as odd. “One of the ones for the plan?”

The pressure made it hard to keep his eyes open. He just wanted to lie down, to rest, but it hurt more if he didn’t have permission first. A curve of pain that just wouldn’t let up.

“A different one. Mixed in.”

He had to stop and rub at his temples to dispel the pain, catching a glimpse of Sam wincing in sympathy. “Uh. There’s a lot, but if you want to look through and point it out?”

Danny nodded once, lurking until Tucker had the files open again, scanning it with wide eyes, completely silent. As if afraid to be overheard if he said anything. “It’s not here.”

“Uh, all of them should have been scanned?”

“Then you’re missing one. Or gave it away...”

“Is that bad? If someone stole one? They’re all basically the same.” Sam couldn’t see a problem, sighing at yet another complication.

He went silent again, ears flatter than usual. “Not really.”

“Danny. If it worries you, we want to figure it out before we’re fighting for our lives.”

“It’s nothing. I can tell who’s using a circle even if it looks the same. Usually. Even if you touched it once.” He took a moment for the shadows to fall away and stretched, double checking the papers set aside to be his, and the pockets in Tucker’s bag they’d be held in, as he couldn’t bring them while being a very successful shadowy creature. “I wish the moon wasn’t going to be so full.”

“Don’t we all. At least it’ll be easy to see.”

Tucker waited, wondering why the demon was hesitating at the last moment, but not wanting to rush him. Until he caught how he kept looking back at the stash of snacks. “You want to try one?”

“Not really.” Danny grimaced, but his eyes didn’t move. “Why do you guys have things that just hurt you in your guts?”

“So we remember to eat so we don’t die.”

He kept frowning, but edged closer to Tucker. “Is it really as salty as Sam said?”

“That’s how they dry it out, yup. Tons of salt, it’s delicious.” He offered the hesitant demon the open bag, who continued to waffle before taking the smallest bit he could, eyeing both it and both humans suspiciously the entire time he chewed on it.

The fact he didn’t feel worse was enough to make him come back for seconds at least, before he went back to double checking the emergency plan. A too-big circle that he insisted was necessary. “If something happens- if I can’t call her…”

“You’ll be able to. If it gets dicey, you fall back. That’s the plan.”

Danny bit at his knuckle, looking down and back up again. “Her name’s Jazz. If you tell her...if you tell her Phantom needs help, she might listen.”

So they knew a name that would work. That was...pretty big for him to tell them, wasn’t it?

“You got it. Let’s not need the back up plan though, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Another deep breath and he was the green eyed terror again, nudging both of them with his tail. “I’ll find him. J-Just make sure to summon me back quick when I call for help.”

He didn't like this part of the plan at all, but they didn't have a better way to lure Gregor out. He nodded, one foot already standing on the 'get our friend back from the evil fae monster' circle as the demon flickered out of sight. They set the battleground, they set the rules, but he couldn't push away all the fear of the unknown. So much could go wrong, but there was no other option but to try.

[thequibblah]

hi so i'm looking for some new music to listen to and i thought you could help because you have great taste!

if this helps, i'll tell you what i normally listen to, which is very basic & basically the same few artists over and over lol

- mostly just taylor swift, she makes up 70+% of my listening probably haha and if i had to pick a favorite genre of hers it would be the folkmore style

- some other pop, like olivia rodrigo and conan gray and lorde & some doja cat but i'm not a huge fan of doja's lyrics

- lyrics are really big for me, so is having a pretty voice and nice melodies

- i love your playlists but the old songs are usually not my style (there's been some though that i really like, ty for that !! <3)

- ceremonials is my favorite florence album

- liability is my favorite lorde song

no problem if u don't want to!

OH i basically recommend things for a living so why not music, eh?

so. what i'm getting from this is that you have three big listening buckets: soft acoustic and indie pop and just plain old pop. so i will divide my recs by those broad genres! i too prefer singable music so i will try to lay off on especially dissonant artists, or mark them as such so you can be prepared (LOL)

acoustic/folksy (i'll admit i am a big indie pop girl so this stuff will be a bit sparser)

phoebe bridgers — admittedly she is more alt-rocky, but see garden song, savior complex, moon song, graceland too, prayer in open D

waxahatchee — can't do much (GOD THIS SONG), lilacs, st. cloud

lucy dacus — also more alt-rocky, but here r some softer jams: hot & heavy, christine, green eyes, red face (a jily song)

anything by first aid kit! start with stay gold and the lion's roar

hozier — i feel like most people on the internet have listened to SOME hozier but check out wasteland, baby! (i tried to pick individual songs and ended up listing most of the album LOL)

kacey musgraves — another artist you've probably listened to already, but try golden hour

brittany howard — stay high must be the sweetest song in existence, and basically all of her album jaime

arlo parks — the whole album but especially caroline, hurt, and black dog

lake street dive — i can change, good kisser (a mary song if i've ever heard one), and i adore their hall & oates cover!

anya marina — this whole album has had me by the throat since like 2013

lucius — just the whole album wildewoman, h/t @figg-anon for putting me onto this!

idk what tf genre fiona apple is but try her out as well!

artists i listen to less of but are in this vein: the lumineers, bon iver, vance joy

u know i had to rec some old people shit (LOLLLL), so in this vein, joni mitchell, heart, judee sills, emmylou harris, joan baez, vashti bunyan

one-off songs you might like: hold you now by vampire weekend, big wheel by samia, i eat boys by chloe moriondo, strawberry blond by mitski (i worship at the altar of mitski but she might not be your speed haha), like i used to (acoustic) by sharon van etten & angel olsen, body by julia jacklin, jackie onassis by sammy rae and the friends, cowgirl bebop by HANA

indie pop BELOVED

maggie rogers — ok i cannot recommend this higher like if u like lorde and conan gray drop everything now and mainline maggie's brilliant debut album

HAIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! — they've got poppier songs like want you back and more mellow songs like summer girl, but honestly i would just recommend a deep dive because they have a pretty surprising breadth within their own alt-rock/pop niche

caroline polachek — can sometimes get way out n weird in the pop sense but so hot you're hurting my feelings is a very listenable pop standard (also it's so funny she's such a clever lyricist also this is irrelevant here but she sounds amazing live), also love look at me now and her cover of breathless

charli xcx is more experimental pop but would rec trying out warm (FT HAIM!!!), blame it on your love (FT LIZZO!!), and official

rina sawayama — technically her album is all sorts of genres but especially XS, comme des garcons, paradisin', bad friend, and tokyo love hotel

orla gartland is a lil softer and i love more like you, oh GOD, and did it to myself

king princess — especially cheap queen, 1950, holy, but basically all of cheap queen

more one-offs: kansas by ashe, comeback by CRJ (full paean in her honour to come in the pop section), i am a big fan of other people covering the bleachers (LOL) especially rollercoaster by charli xcx and i wanna get better by tinashe (full tinashe praise to come too), saturdays by twin shadow (FT HAIM!!!), the kiss of venus and 3 nights by dominic fike (also his interlude on halsey's album), aute cuture and milionària by rosalía, young lover by st. vincent (i love her but again might not be for u haha), good days by sza, backyard boy by claire rosinkranz, slow dancing by aly & aj, hot sugar by glass animals

if ur down to try out something weird witchy and cool, kate bush is like the originator of 9 billion pop and rock genres and hounds of love is a masterpiece

pure pop (we can split hairs on what makes pure pop LOL but basically everything here is based on ur enjoyment of doja)

carly rae jepsen — ok if u haven't listened to her non-radio-hits u may be like "what?? call me maybe lady???" to which i say YES, especially window, stay away, no drug like me, and too much

victoria monet — this may or may not be a selling point to you, but victoria is a frequent ariana grande collaborator and you can absolutely hear it in her music (see also: the mattress spring background noises in dive JUST like they are in positions...), and i love experience, go there with you, and we might even be falling in love, and why not throw in her ariana grande collab monopoly

magdalena bay — how to get physical which i am destined, nay, contractually bound, to put in a jily modern AU someday, killshot, stop & go

tinashe — basically ALL of her new album!!! SO good. i also love rascal (superstar), esther, and old jams like company (and i JUST found out she has a chaka khan cover!)

chloe x halle have the most angelic vocals in the world

this might sound actually demented because WHO hasn't heard love on the brain but rly... go give ANTI a re-listen...

tove lo — especially are u gonna tell her, mateo, and jacques

WAIT I FORGOT TO SAY ROBYN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERY ROBYN SONG!!!!!!!

for that throwback poppy sound u may as well go real throwback KJAHKJA and check out donna summer!

one-offs: right to it by louis the child n ashe, serial lover by kehlani (also more by her but im getting lazy now kdjfhgk), missed calls by max n hayley kiyoko, peppers and onions by tierra whack, idk who hasnt heard this song but circles by meg, todo de ti by rauw alejandro (the way i wanted this to be song of the summer so bad ;___;)

hope you enjoy and pls come back and tell me if you really liked any of these!!!! xoxo

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin. 

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1  /  2  /  3  

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think! 

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening. 

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?” 

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?” 

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?” 

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory? 

“I have to go with potatoes.” 

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.” 

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?” 

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.” 

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle. 

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…” 

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.  

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest. 

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all. 

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here? 

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always. 

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now. 

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?” 

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks. 

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny. 

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?” 

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong. 

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something? 

“What gave me away?” 

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity. 

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…” 

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.” 

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.” 

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.” 

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.” 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.” 

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast. 

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation. 

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more. 

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.” 

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.” 

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something. 

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.” 

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.” 

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.” 

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.” 

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you. 

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp. 

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck. 

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.” 

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you. 

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were… 

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled. 

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately. 

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.” 

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that. 

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss. 

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway. 

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door. 

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.” 

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!” 

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall. 

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive. 

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.” 

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time. 

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there. 

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body. 

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.” 

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?” 

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.” 

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits. 

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.” 

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy. 

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it. 

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is. 

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in. 

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good. 

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening. 

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back. 

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys. 

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use. 

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more. 

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.” 

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh. 

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.” 

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable. 

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big. 

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?” 

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.” 

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs. 

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard. 

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough. 

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore. 

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says. 

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone. 

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together. 

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately. 

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!” 

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.” 

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg. 

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.” 

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands. 

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his. 

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention. 

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first. 

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.” 

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs. 

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit. 

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?” 

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away. 

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying? 

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating. 

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it. 

THE END 

[malienessan]

This is for @theredquilt who very successfully argumented a win in the GMS Day 1 Bingo, arranged by @goldenlionsilverfox . The request was for something spooky, and this is what my brain came up with.

Link has been hearing things in the walls of the Creative House. But why doesn’t Rhett hear it?

What’s in the wall?

For some time, Link had been hearing something in the walls of the Creative House. Not every time he was there, but often enough to consider it disturbing. He had convinced Rhett to get the exterminator there, thinking it might be mice in the walls. That wasn’t the case, there were no infestations in the house.

But the sounds kept disturbing Link. There was like an insistent scratching in the wall between Link’s office and the Jack-and-Jill leading to the Skyn Wallz room, as if something was trying to make its way out. He hadn’t told Rhett that the exterminator guy was there because of a specific sound, he was afraid that Rhett would think it was his depression that made him hear things.

His depression was, for now, under control, Link felt happy and content with his life. And happy people didn’t hear things in the walls, right?

And yet, Link did.

When he and Rhett decided to spend a weekend at the Creative House, Link decided that he would simply shut the sound out of his head.

The wives were taking the kids to North Carolina for a long weekend, Thursday to Sunday, and the guys thought it would be a great opportunity to get the creative juices flowing.

Thursday evening, everything was ok. No strange scratching sound, not even once. They churned out the outline for a pilot, getting all sorts of great ideas, working until the middle of the night and then slept in their separate beds in their separate offices.

Friday night, however, was not so peaceful. The sound had started early, when the sun came up. First just a little, like a cricket crawling along a wall. But as the day progressed, the sound grew in intensity, it sounded like a mouse, a rat, a raccoon and when nightfall came, Link couldn’t even be in his office. It sounded like someone was clawing their way out of the wall, slowly, undoubtedly. And if Link put his head to the wall, which he only dared to do once, he could feel the vibrations of the wall being shredded to pieces.

It was then that he broke down, went to get Rhett and told him all about what he had been hearing. It only confirmed what he had been afraid of.

“Link, there’s no sound, I swear.” Rhett looked at him with concern. “Nothing at all. Can you hear it now?”

Well yeah, it sounded so loud that it almost drowned out Rhett’s voice. Link only nodded, almost crying.

“Look. You can sleep in my room tonight, we’ll drag your bed there, and tomorrow we’ll call your doctor, see if you need to check your meds or whatever.” In an unusual physical display of affection, Rhett put his arms around Link, letting the shorter man rest his head against a strong shoulder. They would get through this.

Said and done, they made room for Link’s bed in Rhett’s office and somehow managed to make it feel like a sleepover, something they hadn’t done in too many years. They closed every door they could, to try and shut out the scratching, and almost succeeded. If Link put a pillow over his head, he could barely hear it.

***

In the middle of the night, Link woke with a start. His heart was beating heavily, he was certain something had scared him awake. He listened for the sound, it couldn’t be heard. And neither could he hear the faint sounds of Rhett sleeping, which frightened Link a lot more than the scratching noise. Where was he?

He was just about to get out of bed and go looking for Rhett when he saw him coming through the door. He shut it behind him and turned towards Link, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“Link? Why are you up?”

“I think I had a bad dream. It’s alright, got a little worried when I couldn’t hear you breathe.”

“Oh, Link. Here, let me help you relax.”

Without asking, Rhett sat down on the bed behind Link and started rubbing his shoulders. Link thought about asking what he was doing, but it felt so good that he just let it happen. Those big, strong hands, working on Link’s tense muscles. It was… wonderful, was the word he searched for. His head lolled forward, letting Rhett work him over, trying to suppress the small moans he felt build in his chest.

“Link… relax, let me take care of you…” Link felt Rhett’s breath against his neck and then the slight scratch of his beard.

“Rhett, what are you doing?” Link made as to move away but was held in place by Rhett’s firm grip.

“Link, bo, just let me do this, please?” He ended by kissing that sensitive spot at the back of Link’s neck, making Link shiver all over. “It’s been too long, we should have done this a long, long time ago.”

Rhett placed kisses over Link’s neck, letting his big hands slide down Link’s back, giving comfort and lighting small fires in the pit of Link’s belly. Soon, one snaked around Link’s midriff, almost tickling, but never wavering, until it had grasped Link’s hard dick through the pajama pants.

“Aah… oh, Rhett, are you sure?”

“Mmhmm, I sure am.” Rhett smiled against Link’s neck. With assertive movements, he let his hand slide under the hem of the pants, grabbing hold of the long, smooth dick, letting his thumb slide through the beads of precum coming from the slit. Link shuddered.

“Rhheeeettt…” He couldn’t stop the moan but felt desperate, was he gonna cum in his best friends’ hand without even kissing him? Link twisted in Rhett’s arms, trying desperately to turn around and finally, he could look his friend in the eye and kiss him. It was… better than Link could ever have imagined. Rhett’s soft lips, the scratching of his beard against Link’s chin, his tongue licking its way into Link’s mouth.

Rhett smiled at him, taking a new grip of the still hard cock and with a few smooth moves, brought Link to the edge.

“Will you cum for me, bo? Then you can sleep again.”

Link tried to object, wouldn’t Rhett want anything in return? But he only shook his head, they could do that tomorrow, or any day after that. This was how it was now.

Rhett kissed Link, jerking his wet dick just right and with a moan, Link came, so hard it made the world spin. He was vaguely aware of how Rhett put him back in bed, and pulled the quilt over him, and then Link slept.

The next morning, Link woke up, feeling happy and content. He was a little sticky, in the nether region, and figured he would get up and have a shower. He could hear Rhett in the shower and decided to traipse over to his own office. When he got there, he stared in shock. There was a big hole in the wall, as if something had burst through. He fled, running in panic back to Rhett’s office, yelling for his best friend.

He couldn’t hear the shower anymore and when he looked through the door to the bathroom, it was empty, no signs whatsoever of anyone having a shower. He ran back and then he heard Rhett calling to him from the living room.

“Link? Link! What’s wrong?” As Link rushed there, he was met with the sight of a newly woken Rhett on their living room couch. “Are you alright?”

Link stared at him.

“Ah, yeah…? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you talked in your sleep, so loud that I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t wake you. I decided to sleep here instead.”

“But… But what about last night, what we…?”

Rhett looked at him, confusion evident on his face. “Last night? We what?”

Link just turned around, running back to his room, looking at the broken wall again. He was crazy, he must be. He must have gotten out of bed that night, busted the wall somehow and then dreamt the whole episode about Rhett. It was time to call the doctor. Defeated, he got a towel from the dresser and went to take a shower.

As he stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the shower, he thought he saw movement behind him. The shower curtain moved. Link thought he would faint when it was pulled to the side and Rhett stepped out. But it wasn’t really Rhett. It had eyes that gleamed at him.

“Hey Link. Thanks for letting me out of the wall.” When the thing smiled at him, Link started to pass out. He could vaguely hear Rhett calling out for him, the real Rhett, as the thing in the mirror turned its head towards the bathroom door, a grin on its face.

[ofallthingsnasty]

at home

Pairing: Merman x F!Reader Tags:  teratophilia, breeding, oviposition, age difference (reader is over 30 but merman is… pretty old according to human standards), size difference, reader is implied to be chubby, very soft with bits of condescension Word count: 1.5k Summary: You’re finally ready to start a family with him.

Note: Minors DNI! This is weirdly soft for this blog. Born from a very intense dream I had. Pwp with a lot of feelings… Very soft but ONLY smut. I’m working on some sketches with him, so keep your eyes peeled haha. (Due to work I won’t be able to show you these until next weekend-ish though!) Don’t think too hard about this - it really is just a smutty dream I had. Request are open!

He smells like sun and brine.

You're nestled into the great expanse of his body, clawed, blue-ish hands gripping the fat of your belly while he holds you up, your bare chest exposed to the morning sun. His grip is tight on your waist, the muscles of his arms working while he moves you up and down on his cock, his hips chasing after your cunt with every upward motion. The brisk temperature makes your skin prickle- his soft stomach is the only source of warmth against your back and his rough skin moves in waves against you. He’s slick with water and sweat as he slowly fucks up into you, labored breaths wet and hot against your ear. The feeling is unbearable. Your legs are spread wide, feet moving lifelessly against solid stone as they’re rattled around by his thrusts- although he’s gentle you feel like you’re going to lose your mind at this point. He’s simply too big not to completely wreck you, any preparation be damned. At almost twice your size, he could easily tear you apart. "I can't take it anymore-", you sob, speared on his tapered dick. You mean it.

He has the girth of your closed fist and the length to match. It’s all you can feel in this very moment, the sweet and prickly pain of being stretched to the limit is maddening. 

"You can and you will, little one", he says, his brogue so soft and caring, yet relentless.

He has been nothing but kind so far, stretching you on his fingers before slowly splitting you inch by inch, bit by bit- always a sweet word flowing from his sharp-toothed mouth into your ear, always pausing when you beg him to. But he never stops. Not that you want him to. It’s the sweetest kind of torture - so full of him until it hurts, so lost in the sensation that there is only him, him, him in this very moment. The world could end this exact second and you wouldn’t notice. How many times have you been in this position? Too many to count. It’s so familiar, yet different- now there's a rough determination in his thrusts, in his whole demeanor. He fucks you like a man starved and it makes your brain short-circuit.

"This will be one of my last seasons, sweet thing", he murmurs against the shell of your ear before gently biting down, sending a shiver through your whole body. It’s not like you don’t know that - you’re very much aware that this could be his last shot at having children with you - but the fervor of his words makes you cry out regardless, desperate to receive his eggs this time. He’s old by human standards- at least thrice your age. Physically, you’d say he looks like he's in his late 40s - and he hasn’t aged a day since you met him, roughly ten years ago. But even so, he ages like the rest of earth’s living, breathing creatures. Ever since you started your courtship, he has been nothing but patient. You not only needed time to adjust to your unusual relationship- but to enjoy your freedom. You wanted kids, yes, but not after a year of being together. It had been strange to him, his customs so different from human ones, but he had accepted your decision. Now that his window is closing, he has grown restless - luckily for him, you’re finally ready. “Please-”, you choke on your words when he strokes over your g-spot. “I want your eggs, so bad-” An approving rumble leaves him in response. “Keep talking like that and you’ll carry them in no time, little one.” A kiss is pressed behind your ear and he starts to fuck deeper into you, rattling you in the process. You whine and sob as the pressure builds, the familiar feeling of being so close that it almost feels like you have to pee is almost painful by now. You know he isn’t anywhere near reaching his peak, but having an orgasm is supposed to make this easier for you, according to him.

He's just so big. You feel dwarfed by him, especially when he coils his tail around you, 

shielding the two of you from prying eyes. His hand easily sprawls across your belly, his thick fingers long enough to reach deep into you when he splits you on them. He doesn’t, now - but he presses into the soft skin of your lower stomach, the pressure electrifying and just right and- You finally cum. It rolls over you in one large wave, makes your toes curl around nothing and your head bends into your neck until you can stare up at him. He gently fucks you through it, calloused hands gently massaging your tits as he hums into your hair. “There you go”, he mumbles tenderly. “There, there.” Finally, your full weight is settled into his lap. He’s no longer holding you by the waist, his hands have started to twirl around your shoulders in gentle touches instead. Your orgasm has made you so sensitive that the tip of his cock still sends fluttery sparks through you, even though he’s not moving anymore. It borders on uncomfortable but you’re too spent to complain. “Ready now?”, the fingers on your skin go from gently to heavy as they dig into your skin. You stare up at him for a moment, at his gentle eyes that study you from above. They swim with love and arousal for you, icy cyan pools you could get lost in for all of eternity. A nod is the only thing you can manage in response but it’s enough for him. “Alright”, he smiles before he paws at your waist again, fingers weaving themselves into your soft fat. You’re tipped over just so - body forward and ass pressed  into his lap and he starts to move again, slowly this time. It’s not for pleasure, it’s to stimulate something else entirely- You feel it before he can warn you. Something round and hard, as big as your curled thumb, slowly travels upward. It’s a strange feeling, especially through his skin. He grunts with exertion above you, hands turning into iron around your body, but not for long. It only takes a few more seconds until you can feel a distinctive snap within you, then something hot and wet - and Blue relaxes. A moment of peace, then he ruts upward and you gasp. The egg is nestled against your womb, its gooey shell hard and warm. It pummels its way through your cervix slowly and without mercy and it hurts. It’s encased by slime that sticks to your walls, almost gelatinous in nature, but it doesn’t help with the sheer force needed to pry open your deepest point. “Blue”, you press out through clenched teeth, scared and hurt. His fingers dig into you in response, a try at a reassuring gesture. “Shhh, I know, I know”, his voice is gentle and low as he strokes over your belly, soothing your tears. It does very little for you but you try to breathe through the pain anyway. The first egg takes minutes to finally slip into your womb and you sweat and cry your way through it. Blue shushes you through the process, peppering your slick skin with kisses and encouraging nips - it doesn’t really help, but still you lean into his touches. “No more, please, Blue”, you roll your hips away from him after the first one is inside, a fruitless attempt at getting away from him. His dick is sheathed too deep within you and his hands are like iron around your wrists. He tuts at you- a noise that distinctly reminds you of someone chastising their lap dog. “It’s okay, sweet”, he says, ignoring your squirming. “The second one will go in easier, just bear with me.” As if he’s trying to give his words more weight, he settles deeper into you, so close to your cervix that it sparks sharp pain that makes you clench involuntarily. “It’ll get better. Just wait a little. I promise.”

[hoedorokishoto]

Trust - Part 3

Shoto Todoroki x Reader 

+ Minors DNI 

previous | part | next

"So what, they were just arguing outside the dorm?" Toshi asked, stretched out on the couch in my workshop, manspreading as he rubbed the back of his neck. One of his long legs not quite fitting on the small red couch, hanging over edge.

"Yeah...I mean, I don't think it was too serious but there was definitely yelling." I stated, flicking my protective goggles down over my eyes and welding new panels on some of Bakugo's equipment, keeping the lines clean and crisp. Not wanting to feel or hear the wrath of Katsuki Bakugo if something was out of place.

"And you were in the bushes?" He asked, quirking his eyebrow, laughing at me as he laid down further on the couch.

"Not in a creepy way! In a what the fuck, dodge and evade kinda way." I said, my voice becoming higher as I defended myself. I had to admit, the situation last night would have sounded suspicious if I had told anyone else. A half-black 18-year-old, hiding in the bushes listening to a conversation between two rich popular people in the middle of the night. Yeah very sus indeed. But I knew that my story was safe with Hitoshi, hoping that he might even have some insider 3A knowledge.

"Well, nothing too exciting happened after they left. Yaomomo walked in head held high, made some tea and went to bed." He said, yawning and placing his arm over his eyes. He didn't mention Todoroki. Did he not go back inside? Where did he find himself last night? I didn't dwell any longer in the bushes to find out, almost regretting that decision now.

"So no gossip? I'm disappointed." I said shrugging, faking disappointment. He laughed behind me, his arm still shielding his eyes as he shifted and got comfortable, preparing to nap as I worked into the late afternoon no doubt. Mr Aizawa having to cancel their private training for 'Pro Hero Reasons'.

I never cared much for the drama of UA students, hero course or otherwise, but recently a two-toned boy had piqued my interest. The situation last night not helping me want to mind my own business. Usually everyone was too busy or too tired for drama, a fact that I had come to love since being at UA. Gone were the days of schoolyard bullying and the gossip about who was hooking up with who.

"What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?" Hitoshi asked, his arm still over his eyes, not once had he even looked up.

"I can feel the neurons firing in your brain from here." He said before I could answer. It was times likes these that I hated he knew me so well.

What was going on in my brain? It felt like for the first time in 18 years I didn't know exactly what I wanted or how I would go about getting it. Shoto Todoroki's name had really thrown a spanner in the works from the moment it was listed next to mine.

"He is quite interesting... that's all I'll say about it." I said in Hitoshi's direction, looking back down, welding the remaining panels together.

"What? You have a thing for Todoroki now? Well get in line behind the rest of the school." He said laughing.

"I don't have a thing! I just find him interesting. Is that a crime?"

I put my equipment away and stood back admiring the finished product, hand on my hip and once again covered in grease. The thick black layer of grime almost a permanent feature of my skin since 1st year. Most of my clothes stained and musty. Smelling like the workshop and a truck had a baby.

"Speaking of interesting... Shishida said he knew you were there last night. I saw him talking to Kaibara about it this morning before class, looking all flustered." Toshi said, finally getting up and coming to stand beside me with one hand in his pocket and the other atop my head.

"I forget that his quirk lets him hear and smell everything. It's a little unsettling." I stated, a shiver going up my spine. I did forget about Shishida and his beast quirk, how he probably heard the whole thing and everything that was said and done last night in Sen's dorm room. Since mine and Hitoshi's most recent conversation about Sen, I have been feeling worse. Wishing that I could like him more or at least have the decency to cut him off. As much as I hated the thought of a relationship the thought of being alone forever with no one sounded even worse, as selfish as it sounded. I was using Sen to feel something, something that I knew would never grow and we would never be more than this.

"Am I a terrible person?" I asked, out of the blue. Shocking even Hitoshi as his eyes went wide.

"Of course not, why would you ask that?"

"I can feel it, I feel how much he likes me and wants me to stay but I just can't. I worry that I won't ever like anyone like that." I said sadly, dropping my head and removing the helmet, rubbing my cheek with the back of my hand.

"Hey! Boys and girls may come and go but you and me are forever. Don't ever forget that. I've seen your heart and I know how big it is and I know exactly who you are." He said, putting his long finger under my chin and lifting my head, a small smile on his handsome face.

"I don't know what will happen in the future. But regardless I'll always be on your side."

                                                              *

The next few days continued on like any other, morning classes then UA class followed by after school and extra curricular activities. The last bell of the day rang out, dismissing students and teachers who were eager to get back to the dorms to start enjoying their one day weekend. Sunday being the only day off for all students.

"So... What are you wearing? I'm thinking that red dress where your boobs look absolutely amazing." Mei said as she linked our arms as we left out respective workshops and matched step as we left the main UA building.

"Hmm maybe, I mean they are one of my best assets." I agreed, replying to Hitoshi's text message about what time we should head over.

"I'm excited. Iida has been freaking out all week trying to mentally prepare for tonight, I can already picture him running around offering people water or something lame like that." She giggled, her face lighting up as she talked about Iida.

Mei and Tenya weren't official but to all of us they might as well have been. They even spent last Christmas together, sharing their first kiss in the snow. I think Iida was hesitant after what happened to his brother, not wanting anything terrible to happen to the people he loved most because of his career path. A noble man through and through.

Ding.

Sen- Hey, are you coming to the party tonight?

I hadn't seen Sen since the last time we had sex and I left without an explanation, saying that I would text him. Which I had not done.

I had been thinking about everything recently, liking Sen enough to not want to hurt him but not liking him enough to want to be his girlfriend. We were both already in too deep, whatever I said now even if it was letting him down easy was going to be harsh. That's what happens when you are a selfish piece of shit who just wants to get dicked down. I sighed heavily and looked down, rubbing my temples. Over having to think about this whole situation, and just wanting to crawl into bed and never come out.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what is this? I don't like it." Mei said, waving her hand up and down, gesturing to my whole body.

"Why aren't you excited! We always get excited for parties." She stated, linking our arms once more and walking us down the halls.

"I'm excited. Who said I wasn't excited."

"Oh just your face, your body language and your whole aura."

She was probably right, the introvert in me wanted nothing more than to stay home and avoid any and all confrontation about the situation that I had caused. I didn't answer her as we continued to walk, making our way to the huge doors and pushing them open. Coming face to face with Sen, Shishida and Tetsu Tetsu. All of them turning and looking directly at us as we walked out.

"Hey guys! Wanna walk together?" Tetsu asked, his usual cheerful self on full display. His sunshine personality and aloofness clearly missing the weird tension between me and Sen.

"Um..." Sen started, blushing slightly and looking in my direction, his eyes looking sad as they took me in.

"We would love to! 3 future pro heroes as our personal chaperons? How did we get so lucky?" Mei answers, her voice getting higher as she looked between me and Sen, picking up whatever energy we were giving off.

We went the long way, the plan was to drop us off at our dorm then the 3 boys continue onto theirs. The conversation flowed naturally as we all talked about the party tonight and offers which we had gotten for work studies and internships.

"Hatsume I really loved the gear you made me! You guys are so cool, I wish I was half as smart as you. Mr Vlad might actually pass me then." Testu Testsu confessed, smiling and showing off his sharp teeth to us. The rest of the group continued to make small talk as we walked, me and Sen lagging behind the group, not walking together but close enough that I could hear his breathing. Fast and almost panicked, cleary working himself up.

"Y/N. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Sen asked quietly behind me so only I could hear. I stilled, scared that if I turned around, my heart and head would be even more confused. As if that was possible.

"You guys can go on without us." I said to the others, smiling at them as they waved us off.

"I'm s."

"I just."

We both said at the same time, both of us stepping forward towards each other. A blush making it's way up Sen's cheeks. He was incredibly cute. The type of cute that if you bought him home your parents would approve. The type of cute that was safe.

"You know that I like you, I don't try to hide it Y/N" He stated confidently, his darks eyes staring into mine.

"I love being with you, not just physically. I want to be someone you can rely on. Be there for you whenever you need. Why won't you give me a chance?" He said louder this time. My heart hammering in my chest. Not at his sudden confess but because I was scared of my answer, scared of being labeled the bad guy and rightfully so.

"Please, come with me to the party as my date and just give me a chance. There has to be something there or else we wouldn't have made it this far."

That's where he was wrong. People could sleep with people and not want to date them. People could promise each other the world and leave them the very next day. I knew that I could have sex with Sen a million times and even then, it would only be sex. He would only ever be cute, and if things ever went any further he would only break my heart or me his.

Despite this, as I looked at his eyes and his tall frame looming over me I answered with the complete contradiction.

"Yes, meet me outside my dorm at 7?"  

[mmvalentine]

But You pt 1 | Feysand

Modern AU, college-y sort of. Part 2

Feyre worried about Rhys going to college. Of course his grades were impeccable, it’s just that he had never been very good at making friends. When they were in the second grade, the teacher had asked them all to say what their dream world might look like, and where all the other kids had said things like “a world with unicorns” or “a world where we have swords for hands,” Rhys had said “a world where everyone is warm and comfy and loved.” And then one of the boys had laughed at him, called him stupid, and then stalked around the room chopping everyone down with his sword-hands. By the time the teacher had calmed everyone down and gotten them to sit back in the centre of the room, she had quite forgotten little Rhys, who was hiding under a table. Feyre, always a watchful, observant creature, had brought him pillows from the reading nook, and set up camp with him beneath the desk.

She was pretty sure that was the last time Rhys had made a friend. Because they were inseparable all through primary school and middle school, and when Feyre started making more friends in high school, Rhys just wandered off to the library.

“Don’t you want to stay and sit with us?” Feyre would ask him. Rhys just smiled and shrugged, and then sauntered off to be with his books instead.

Of course, Rhys wasn’t antisocial or anything. In fact he had always been so sensitive. And he needed so much physical affection- had toned it down as they progressed through school, but still spent most afternoons sprawled over the foot of Feyre’s bed, a leg or hip against hers, as long as they always had one point of contact. He had one or two romantic entanglements, but they never seemed to last long. Feyre wondered sometimes whether Rhys had decided early on that people were callous and cruel, and most weren’t worth the risk.

So when she got into a college on the opposite coast, and Rhys got a scholarship somewhere up north, Feyre seriously worried about what might happen to him left to his own devices.

Rhys had rolled his eyes when she broached the subject.

“I’ll be fine, Feyre darling,” he said. “Look at me. I’m unreasonably handsome.” “And has that helped you make any friends in high school?” Feyre had demanded, eyebrows raised. “It helped me get you,” he said with a rakish grin. “And you are all I need.” “Right but you won’t have me in six weeks,” Feyre said, feeling like she was going in circles. Rhys only shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” was all he said.

In the end Feyre decided that Rhys was just less in need of people than she was. She had always enjoyed company, and bouncing ideas off people. Rhys lived more inside himself.

And so she packed up for college, said goodbye to her friends, and went to one last party before she was due to drive off the next morning. Rhys hadn't wanted to come, of course, he never did. Truth be told, she felt a little disappointed but not surprised. It would have been nice to hang out one more time before she left.

Disappointments aside, Feyre was ecstatic to be leaving her hometown. It was small, and dingy, and contained her two awful sisters and she just knew she would go and never look back. She hoped Rhys would be able to do the same thing.

Feyre left the house wearing a scandalous silver dress. It was such a conservative town, she knew she'd be getting looks but screw it, she was leaving tomorrow. She took the bus to the sorry excuse for a bar the town had, and as she looked out the window she couldn't say she would miss any of this.

The bar had stained carpets and flickering lights. For some reason, Alis was devoted to it and was here most weekends. Feyre had turned her down many times, but figured it was as good a place as any to spend her last night in town. Lucien was already there too, taking up half the booth with his long limbs.

"Feyre!" Alis squealed. She hugged her friend tightly, and then Lucien pushed two shot glasses toward her as she sat down. "You're two behind Feyre, drink up."

And that would be the last clear thing that Feyre remembered from that night.

Hours later, she swayed on her front door step and tried to open the door without waking anyone. This was particularly difficult because the keyhole kept moving.

She managed to get herself up the stairs without anyone coming out, and closed her bedroom door behind herself thankfully. Dropped her purse on the ground, threw her coat over the chair, and stumbled toward the bed.

Where Rhys was sitting, his legs crossed at the ankles and his back against the headboard, with a bemused smirk on his handsome face.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said. "Rhys? How did you get in here?" Rhys shrugged. "Through the window." "I'm on the second floor." "I climbed." Feyre's alcohol addled brain struggled to put this together.

"Okay..." she said. "But, what are you doing here?" Rhys fiddled with a loose thread on Feyre's duvet cover. "Wanted to see you," he said. "I invited you out tonight." Rhys rolled his eyes. "Yeah but I hate those guys. I just want to see you."

Feyre walked unsteadily round the side of the bed and sat down next to Rhys.

"You always just want to see me, Rhys," she said. "Come on seriously, you know you're going to have to talk to other people at college." "I hate other people." "You hate everyone." "I don't hate you."

Feyre just peered at him until he squirmed.

"Okay, okay, I promise I'll talk to people at college. Now can you take that ridiculous thing off and come hang out with me?" Feyre sighed. "Fine. Turn." She circled her finger in the air, indicating for Rhys to face away from her. He huffed but then turned his back obediently, and she got out of her ridiculous dress and into flannel pyjama pants.

"Rhys," she said. "Are you sitting on my t-shirt?" "I don't think so?" Rhys said. He pulled off his own shirt and held it out to her without turning. "Here," he said. "You can have mine." "Well aren't you a gentleman," Feyre said. "You know this is my house, I have a whole wardrobe full of t-shirts." But tired as she was, she pulled it on anyway, and slid into bed.

Rhys turned when Feyre told him it was okay. "I know, but I like you in my clothes," he said. And snuggled down next to her.

"Hey," she said. "You can't sleep in here." "Why not?" Rhys asked. "I've slept in here plenty of times." "You're usually on the floor." "But you're leaving me tomorrow," Rhys complained. "Can't I just stay tonight?"

Feyre sighed. The alcohol still sloshing through her veins was making her sleepy, and made it hard to care about anything.

"Sure," she said. "I don't know why you don't just sleep in your own bed." "Because you aren't in it," Rhys said with a grin. Feyre frowned. "Turn off the lights, would you." She closed her eyes.

A second later, the room was peacefully dark, and Rhys laid his head down on the pillow next to hers.

"You know," he said more quietly. "I used to sleep up here." "Sure, when we were kids," Feyre said. She yawned. "I wish I could do it every night," Rhys murmured. "Why?" Feyre asked. Even though she was lying down now, the room still spun somehow. "Because I miss you when you're not there," he whispered. "Well what are you going to do when I'm at college?" she asked, and the words were like cotton in her mouth. "Think about you everyday," Rhys said, "and wish that I had told you when you were sober that I have no idea what I'm going to do without you and I've never been so scared in my life."

But Feyre was asleep by that point, and wouldn't remember that Rhys kissed her forehead before closing his eyes too.

****

HOKAY phew I really hit a wall there and was panicking a bit so I am very happy to be back in a chapter fic. Big ol' thanks and also smooshy kisses to my brain trust @feyrearcherons and @asteria-of-mars for getting me over the line.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @tillyrubes10 @feysand-babies @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist

MASTERLIST

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: I’m so so sorry this took so long! I redid the whole thing. We’re going to back up a bit in this chapter and visit the past. Please check the warnings before reading. Also, my requests are open. Send ideas if you’re feeling particularly angsty! Or even fluff, I’d like to try my hand at it. As always, let me know what you think of this chapter! For tags, please send in ask! 

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Abuse, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

2 years ago.

Bucky tapped his fingers on the table as he checked his watch again. 8:15. Forty-five minutes late. Again. He let out a huge sigh, barely able to hold himself from scratching his eyes out. The curly-haired waitress went back to him with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. My manager told me I really need to take your order now. There’s already a line waiting outside…” she let her sentence trail sheepishly. Bucky tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks and gave her an unconvincing smile instead, reciting his order. When she left with visible relief on her face, he picked up his phone and called his wife again. He had tried to call and text her earlier but she hadn’t picked up.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, sounding frazzled and irritated as she cleaned up after her rude customer. He just had the audacity to leave a mess after complaining and whining about the wifi three times. She could barely keep her eyes from rolling. 

“Hey, babe. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you at the restaurant,” Bucky’s defeated voice on the other line replied. 

“Oh shit!” She shrieked, attracting the heads of the other customers as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She had lost track of time. Bucky had been waiting for her for almost an hour. On their anniversary. Oh crap, crap, crap. 

“Oh my god, baby. I’m so sorry! I’m understaffed and I lost track of time! Could you please wait for me? I’m so sorry!” She quickly took off her apron and changed into the dress she had brought with her that morning for their date. Bucky had been planning this. He arranged for Lizzie’s babysitter and everything, practically bouncing off with excitement for this night. He wanted to try out this new restaurant and between raising Lizzie and making sure Winter Bakery was still making a profit, they haven’t seen much of each other lately. She just couldn’t find the time whereas Bucky’s stable position in Shield gave him more authority to delegate. And he literally had been trained for this for years. All those late-nighters at the university and all the grunt work he and Steve went through have finally paid up. They were at the top of their game, one of the youngest to acquire their positions. They were heroes in the investment banking world. Life was easy for him now, cherry on top of the cake. He only wished Y/N could be there with him. But she was still on shaky ground with her business and he fully understood that. 

“Of course! I already picked our appetizers though. They were trying their best to kick me out gently if I didn’t order anything,” 

“Oh, my poor Bucky. You should’ve flashed them your smile, charmed your way. They would’ve made you stay,” she replied, fixing her ponytail, not having the time to retouch her makeup anymore. This’ll just have to do. 

“Really, now. It was a waitress, you know.” He teased back. 

A beat before Y/N replied in mock seriousness. “In that case, don’t you dare. I’ll be there in 15!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. See you, babe. I love you--,” 

But before he could even finish his sentence, the line had dropped on the other end.  

_______________________________________________________________________

1 year ago.

“Daddy, look, apples!” Lizzie pointed from her seat in the grocery cart. Her legs swinging as she giggled at the heap of apples on their side. “Yeah, baby, you’re right.” Bucky replied absentmindedly, not even bothering to look as he stared confusedly at the bunch of green vegetables in front of him. The list Y/N gave him said scallions, but how the hell was he supposed to know which was which? Scallions, spring onions, green onions, they were all the same right? He suddenly regretted volunteering to do their grocery shopping alone, having no clue what half of the list Y/N prepared even meant. It was the weekend, they were all supposed to go together and then have a quick visit to the toy store after, for one more of Lizzie’s birthday gifts. She had just turned 3 a week ago and he couldn’t help but promise to let her pick out another doll. When Y/N had given him a pointed look while Lizzie clung on and gushed to him, he couldn’t help but to just give her a tiny shrug. He grew up with nothing, he was gonna give his little girl everything. But that morning when he thought the three of them finally had time to spend together, Y/N couldn’t make it again. She was having problems with her manager and had to go into work unexpectedly. Now, she wasn’t even answering his calls when he had to ask her about the most complicated grocery list he’s ever seen in his whole life. 

“Daddy, when are we getting my doll?” Lizzie asked again, looking up at him as she clutched her favorite white wolf stuffed toy. 

“After this, sweetheart.” He answered, preoccupied and calling Y/N again. This time when she didn’t answer, he gave up, grabbed the one nearest to him and hoped for the best. 

When he’s gotten halfway through the list and let Lizzie point at the snacks she wanted for school, he let his mind wander, when the hell had they become like this? He barely saw his wife anymore. Her problems with her bakery cafe, always dragging her away from them. He wished she could find competent people who would stay but if it weren’t her manager, it was her baker and so on. And if she was finally free, he’d be the one who was busy. It was hard and annoying but coupled that with taking care of an over-enthusiastic three-year-old, it was also exhausting.

He missed Y/N and he wished he could spend time with her. He completely understood that she was always needed at work. He had been through that in their early 20s, but they didn’t have a kid then to compete for their time and understanding it was different from actually living it. Their marriage had become stagnant. The banality of their everyday life, a stark contrast to how they used to be when they were just a couple of kids off college who rented a too-small apartment with his little sister, Becca. Time has flown and he’s finally achieved the life he’s always wanted; a big duplex apartment, a steady high-income job and a family he had always yearned for but never really knew he needed. All of the things he promised himself when he was younger and had nothing, he had now and more, yet there was still something missing. He missed the thrill of his life, chasing his dreams had always kept him motivated, distracted. Now that he had it all, he was at his wits’ end. Maybe it was because they were also growing apart, he could feel it. Y/N had always been able to make him happy and whole; he had always been able to rely on her emotionally. She was the better part of him and now that she was becoming distant, he hung onto her like a lifeline but his insistence on going on vacations as a family wherever his wife and daughter wanted went unheard, all his attempts at romancing cancelled. 

Even as he lined up now for the cashier, he whipped out his phone to text her. His hands had been busy typing when a brooding, dark-haired man stood behind him dressed in all black. His arms were muscled despite his age and the sagging skin on his right arm holding a tattoo of an odd skull with tentacles extending out of it was barely covered by his shirtsleeve. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Bucky,” a familiar husky voice mocked from behind him. 

Bucky immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the voice sending a deep chill down his spine, making him go rigid as he slowly turned around, the blood draining from him when he went face to face with the man who had made his life a living hell, the man who not only broken him physically but in spirit as well. Repeatedly. 

“You some errand boy now? I didn’t raise you to be like that, you know,” He continued to mock, tipping his chin to the cart with Lizzie still on it. 

“Do you know him, daddy?” She asked, holding her little wolf tighter as she watched the stranger warily. 

“Hey there, sweetie. Your daddy didn’t tell you about me? That’s weird. I raised him and your aunt Rebecca a long time ago. My name is Rumlow,” he flashed her a chilling smile, stepping closer to offer his hand. That’s when the fog in Bucky’s brain cleared. He moved with a lightning fast reflex, stepping in between them as he got in Rumlow’s face, fisting his collar harshly in one hand, 

“Don’t you dare go near her,” his dark and low voice had threatened, dripping venom. His eyes had dilated, almost turning black as he shoved him hard. Rumlow’s grating laugh echoed around them, bringing back all those awful memories he had buried deep inside his head. 

“I’ve taught you well, boy. Can’t say I’m not proud,” He clapped and actually smiled at him smugly. At this point, Lizzie had started crying making Bucky even more furious. 

“I don’t ever want to see your face again. And if you go near my daughter again, I’ll make you fucking regret it. Do you understand?” His threats went on deaf ears as Rumlow broke out into a full-fledged grin. 

“I’d love to see you try, James. You’ve grown soft,” He accused, eyeing Lizzie and the grocery he had still lined up, several heads already looking at them. 

“Lucky for you. I have a new son here,” He continued, tilting his head to the boy standing by his mostly empty cart-- save for the beer and the liquor. Bucky flicked his attention to the boy and he felt his world spin as he saw himself in him with his eyes haunted, wary and afraid. He couldn’t have been older than eight. Rumlow smirked at the look on Bucky’s face, already detecting the turmoil brewing inside him. He had succeeded. He always knew Bucky was weak, his emotions his downfall. The fear and guilt clearly written in Bucky’s eyes made Rumlow gloat as he talked to the boy, 

“What did I say, Bert, huh? You’ll only have food if you go get it yourself. Why are you still standing there?” 

The boy looked around the big grocery store, mentally taking note of the stalls and where they were currently at, memorizing it in case he got lost but still, he didn’t move. Bucky looked at Rumlow and he saw the same look he’d always had directed at him before, his taunting eyes daring the boy to go or face the consequences. 

“But I’m scared,” the boy replied, his voice small and frightened. Rumlow moved to him, bending his knees to get to his eye level. “Well then, you just won’t have to eat,” he told him in a hushed voice, pouting and mocking. 

Bucky didn’t have to hear it to know the exact words, buried memories rushing back to the surface. He heard it countless times directed at him. The boy ran to the nearest stall, his heart pounding and hoping Rumlow would still be at that same spot when he came running back. Bucky knew the feeling, it was like he was living it all over again. As much as he wanted to help, he was rooted to the spot, even Lizzie’s crying couldn’t move him. Rumlow stood back up and faced him. “You were always my favorite,” he told him proudly as he pushed his own cart away from them, no doubt to give Bert an even harder chance of finding him. 

Just before he got too far, he swiftly turned around, feigning innocence as he said, “Oh and by the way, say hi to Rebecca for me,”  His lips twisted up into a sneering smirk as he left, whistling without a care in the world. And just like that Bucky was moving, grabbing Lizzie and getting out of that store as fast as he could, hoping Rumlow would stay out of his life forever. 

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

“I’m never letting you do the groceries again!” Y/N screeched, a horrified look on her face as she stared at their fridge. After the incident with Rumlow, Bucky had brought Lizzie to the toy store, allowing her to buy all the stuffed toys and dolls she wanted instead of just the previously promised one doll. They had gone to lunch after, he kept Lizzie distracted as much as possible to forget the man she had just met. When she brought him up again, he told her it was just a friend he didn’t like very much and that she shouldn’t bring it up to her mom because it was nothing, he promised he never had to see that man again. Lizzie seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to her usual chirpy self. On their way home, they passed by another grocery store. He had mindlessly strolled the aisles and grabbed whatever he thought they needed, his head at a different place, much as it still is now.

“Bucky, we don’t need four cartons of milk, why would you even get this?” Y/N asked incredulously, shaking her head as she chuckled. 

Bucky had been staring off into space, not hearing what his wife had been saying. “Uhm, hello Bucky, you still with me?” she teased, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Oh sorry, what was that?” He asked, glancing up at her from his perch by the kitchen counter. The coffee he had brewed, now cold in his hands. 

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he waved dismissively. Y/N felt a pang of guilt. He’d been bugging her to spend more time together, planning outings and dates that she never seemed to find time for. 

“Well, I finally have the day free. Why don’t we go out, watch a movie or have a picnic? It’ll be fun,” she suggested, draping a hand over his shoulder while her chin rested on the other, her elbow propped up on the countertop to keep an eye level with him. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, babe. I promised to meet up with Thor,” he moved away from her touch, standing up. Y/N looked at him confusedly, “Okay, how about after?”

“Gotta go over some accounts with Sam, sorry love. I’ll be back before dinner,” He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek before heading out. Y/N stared after him, brows knitted, before shrugging. She’ll just get her errands around the house done then. 

After pounding the punching bag in Thor’s gym incessantly, Bucky found himself aimlessly walking around the streets, he just needed to clear his head. The little boy’s face was still etched in his mind as he opened the door to a bar. A little too early, he knew but he couldn’t shake off the nagging thought plaguing his mind. 

How could he have let that monster roam free while he had lived his life without even a glance back? 

_______________________________________________________________________

Years ago.

Bucky held Becca’s hand as they ascended the rickety steps of their new home. They had just lost their parents and were now moving into an unfamiliar house. The case worker had told them they were lucky not to be separated and that they shouldn’t worry; they were getting a good foster father who would take care of them from now on. 

“I had interviewed him myself, you see,” She told the children, beaming with pride. 

“I couldn’t have found a better one for you guys, why, this area is still very close to where you grew up in. You could still visit your old haunts,” She ruffled Becca’s hair, trying to lighten the mood while the little girl just moved farther away, hiding behind her big brother. The worn-out door which at once might have been painted pristine white but now had chippings hanging off of it suddenly opened with a creak, a man with a charming and easy nature stepped out with a warm smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You guys are here! Welcome, welcome, please come in!” He gestured humbly to his house. Becca squeezed Bucky’s hand tighter which he squeezed back in return, reassuring her. There was something about this man that wasn’t quite right. He seemed relaxed and easy-going, a smile continuously plastered on his face but there was a lethality to him that the children couldn’t seem to shake off, almost as if it was buried deep inside waiting to be unleashed. The case worker hung on his every word, giggling as they talked. She slapped his arm with the horrible looking tattoo that gave Becca a fright. The children barely moved from the sofa they were seated at after the introductions. 

“It’s usually like this. Don’t worry. They start to open up after a while,” the case worker sympathized with Brock, the man who introduced himself as their new foster father; he would treat them as his own, he had promised. 

“It’s alright. I understand. After my wife, I’ve been all alone and this, this is a blessing to me,” He told her as he turned to the children. Her hand strayed to his arm again and lingered there. 

“Oh, Brock, you are a good man. They’re great children, they won’t give you trouble.” She replied, patting his arm for reassurance. It didn’t miss Bucky how she hung off his every word. 

“But I should get going, I will check up on you in a week. Children, be good. You have my number if you need anything,” She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on her blazer.

“Wait, you’re leaving us already?” Bucky couldn’t help the whine that escaped his voice. He didn’t miss the darkness that spilled over Brock’s face for a split second before he carefully put his smile back on again. 

“I’ll be back in a week, Bucky. Don’t you worry,” the case worker smiled before she walked out the door leaving him and Becca to a stranger. 

When she was out of sight, Brock had suddenly changed his demeanor. The smile on his face had turned into a scowl when he faced them. “Alright, listen up both of you,”  he boomed, his voice cruel. “Grab your things and get on to your rooms. I don’t want to hear any noise. No running around, and if I see you making a mess. You bet your little asses, you’ll pay for it,” He stood up and left them to their bags. 

“But Mr. Brock, I’m thirsty,” Becca piped up, looking up at him timidly. The man’s grating laugh rumbled as he threw his head back, shaking it.  

“That’s Rumlow to both of you, you hear me?  Don’t make that mistake again. Now, come here,” He said, beckoning both the children to come over. Once they reached the kitchen, he pointed to the high cupboard. “You see that?” He asked Becca, dropping low to get to her eye level. When she just nodded her head, he continued, “That’s where the glasses and the plates are. If you want something in this house, you go get it yourself. I’m not your nanny,” He held Becca’s face in his hand roughly. His fingers wrapped around her cheeks tight as he held her by the chin. Bucky felt his fists clench at his sides, pushing Rumlow as far as he could with his eleven year old might.  

“Stop that!” He screamed. Their parents never hurt them. How dare this man think he could do this to his little sister? 

“Oh you wanna be the man of the house?” Rumlow jeered, shoving Bucky back making him fall to the floor. Becca’s sniffles grew louder as she tried to stop her crying, her shoulders shaking from her effort. As Bucky lay sprawled, Rumlow scooted down menacingly to him, 

“You dare push me when you were just whining like a little bitch a while ago, you wanna man up? Alright, I’ll allow it,” he taunted, pondering it for a moment before his sinister smile came back on. “Let’s see how long you’ll last protecting your little sister.” He gripped his face by the chin, fingers squeezing exceedingly tight on his cheeks before he pushed him off and he hit the floor. 

“I won’t be some parent to you that you could twist around your little fingers, no. I’ll make you into the best man you could be. I will teach you about order. And order only comes through pain,” He drilled into him like a soldier as he stretched his legs back up, his measured steps going to the fridge to fish out a beer. He took a long gulp before he continued, 

“And the sooner you learned that, the better,” 

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Bucky sat alone at one of the benches by the field at his school, choosing solitude over the roar of the cafeteria after a particularly bad morning at home. Their foster father had woken up drunk and had haphazardly thrown things at them when Bucky accidentally burnt the eggs he had been cooking for his and Becca’s packed lunch for school. He picked on the peanut butter sandwich he prepared, not having the appetite to eat when he heard jeering voices from a group of boys and sounds of flesh being hit again and again with accompanying grunts of pain. He felt his feet move on instinct when he found them by the bleachers, a scrawny boy at the center of a group huddling over him, they were laughing as he tried to fight them off, not once being able to land a punch. The blood pumped in Bucky’s veins, a constant beating in his ears, as he grabbed the biggest of the bullies by the collar and harshly yanked him off the tiny, blonde boy now sprawled on the floor with his skinny arms covering his face. When one of the other kids tried to punch him, he deftly moved out of the way and delivered a swift blow to his stomach, making sure to spare his face so as not to get in trouble. That was how Rumlow did it, might as well use the same trick right? 

“What? Who wants to go next?” He threatened, loving the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the power he had with defending someone so helpless. The lanky blonde boy stood up beside him, blood dripping from his mouth as he held both his fists up, “I can do this all day,” he said, catching his breath but his stance clearly indicated he could barely stand up straight. Bucky just looked at him weirdly, not knowing whether to find him stupid or brave. The bullies stood against them, unsure. Bucky was the same age as them, only slightly bigger. Him and the blonde boy were still clearly outnumbered but Bucky’s eyes held a lethal strength in them, his body coiled with unleashed brutality, ready to fight. The bullies scrambled out of there as fast as they could, their feet tripping over them. 

“Yeah next time, pick on someone your own size!” he hollered before looking back at the blonde boy who looked younger than them but held himself with such maturity that it didn’t seem possible. He decided right then and there he was going to make him his new friend. Rumlow had always taught him about his belief of the natural order of the world, that strength and might always won the day and that order could only be achieved through pain. If you could inflict it on others, you were stronger, better. Weaker men were useless, had to be beaten up and put in their place. “That’s just the way of the world,” he had said. But Bucky was old and smart enough to see right through his facade. He was a bully, feeding off of people who couldn’t fight back. Bucky was going to be different, he wouldn’t bow down to his will. He just needed to protect his sister, spare her from the taint of Rumlow’s anger and prove that he wouldn't become the man Rumlow has been conditioning him to be. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked the boy standing beside him who was touching the bruise forming on his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” he replied sheepishly, ashamed he couldn’t fight for himself.

“Next time, just don’t provoke them, they aren’t worth it.” 

“But they were wrong. Bullies, I’d always stand up to them,” the blonde brushed his hair back from his forehead, determination steeling his voice. Bucky smiled, maybe he could learn a thing or two from this boy too. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Steve, what’s yours?”

“Bucky. Steve, you’re a little punk. You know that?” he said teasingly, laughing. 

Steve grinned back, “Jerk,” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Present

The light filtered into the room as the curtains were drawn back harshly causing Bucky to groan on his bed, flitting a pillow to cover his eyes. 

“Buck, come on. Get up,” Steve’s firm voice spoke through the fog in his mind. 

“Get out, Steve, I’m sleeping.” he replied, turning his back to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“How long are you going to do this? It’s been two weeks. Have you even talked to your family yet?” Steve’s judgmental voice rang out, hard and unforgiving. 

“She doesn’t even wanna see me,” he huffed, anger at himself boiling in his veins. He hasn’t seen his daughter in two weeks. Y/N’s short, cold replies to his messages were just updates on how Lizzie was doing, anything regarding Y/N, he had no idea about. He didn’t even know what sort of excuses she made up for Lizzie, how his “work trip” kept getting extended. When the hell could they keep that charade up? He was lucky enough she was letting him talk to his daughter on the phone for a few minutes every once in a while. He sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for the bottle of whiskey at the bedside table. These days he could only fall asleep when he’s had one too many to drink and even then, he’d still wake up with a headache that could only be dulled by alcohol. He barely even made it to work everyday. Sam had been good enough to cover for him, staying on neutral ground with everything that’s happening to his marriage although his eyes said otherwise, disappointment etched in them. All the while Steve had ignored him the entire time since the hospital. No amount of apologies moved him from his stance except today, when he suddenly barged into the hotel room Bucky has been renting like he owned the place. 

“Jesus, Bucky, stop that!” He swiped the bottle Bucky held between his lips, splashing amber liquid on his shirt and bed. 

“Damn it, Steve! Look what you did!  Give that back,” Bucky held his arm out, his reflexes slow as he tried to grab it from his friend. 

“Jesus Christ. You smell terrible. How much have you had to drink last night?” Steve fanned the air around him trying to rid the stench of alcohol and sweat.

“How the hell did you even get in here?” Bucky’s pissed off voice grumbled but one look at Steve’s intense stare with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, standing straight as a drill sergeant, arms crossed at his chest with his muscles bulging out of his fitted gray Under Armour shirt; he knew. The punk had intimidated his way in. No doubt leaving a poor breathless, flustered receptionist in his wake. 

“You could get that receptionist fired, you know?” He tried appealing to his best friend’s better nature.

“You wouldn’t tell. Plus, it isn’t as if she didn’t get a hefty tip. Go take a shower, Buck, you stink.” Steve didn’t budge, staring him down with a disgusted look on his face. Bucky just scoffed, 

“And then what? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N kicked me out, man. Just go home, you’re wasting your time.” 

Steve’s hardened face softened as he looked at his friend. His eyes were puffy, his skin pale as he scratched his wildly unkempt beard, his greasy hair sticking out on one side. What the hell had happened to Bucky? How had it gone so bad for his friend in a matter of days? He suddenly moved out of instinct, collecting clothes strewn everywhere and packed them into the suitcase at the corner of the room. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky exhaled loudly. It was too early for this. Where the hell was his drink? 

“Get your ass moving, Bucky. You’re staying at my place,”