#turns out i am perfectly content to not have anyone to talk to. perfectly content having no friends at youth group

[frogathy]

just talked to my counselor about being on the spectrum and my mom understands now and i am just so relieved its insane like everything makes sense it is so insane and like i dont have to feel like theres anything wrong with me anymore its just hoohkhjgghdhj

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Bongo Butts | 18+

I should be going to bed but I forgot to do laundry so here I am, writing more content that nobody asked for. Just like motorboating them...when I see them butts. Just. WHAM BAM. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also hope you know I had to research different types of dump trucks for this fic.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Ass Slapping, Crack Fic, Playing their asses like they're bongos, Zayne's lost sanity, Rafayel is scandalized as per usual, you mentally scar Raf, Xavier is confused as per usual, but is he confused?, he does get you back tho

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier really did need to be more careful around you. He was the one who wanted you to date him first, in your defense. He chose you. And you wouldn't let a single day go by that you didn't prove why that was a horrible decision on his end. At the very least, he could claim that he was never bored with you around.

Today was supposed to be a lazy day. You two had off from all missions and were relaxing around the apartment since it was too damn hot to actually go outside. It also happened to be laundry day for Xavier, so he was dressed in his workout attire while his uniforms were being deep cleaned from all the dirt that accumulated on them during his missions.

Those shorts. They were so damn short. You'd even call it slutty because hot damn. His ass was just right there. It was staring at you. Hypnotizing you like it was a snake charmer. Your hands were already twitching in a grabby motion as you stared directly at those perfectly rounded globes on his backside. His beautiful bubble butt.

Xavier could feel your stare burning into him as he looked over his shoulder. He was just sun bathing by the window, laying on his stomach. So vulnerable to your upcoming attack.

"Something you need?" Damn, he already sounded suspicious. It might've been by how you were practically drooling with your hands up, ready to grab at him. It was a slight give away. He should've been more prepared though, because you lunged at him in that moment.

He only had time to turn slightly when you pushed him back on his stomach, sitting on his back to pin him down. Your hands took a fistful of his ass before you began hitting them with little force. Just watching them jiggle with every little slap of your hands.

You were cackling like a maniac as you continued your assault until he managed to maneuver you off of him. You were laughing, your cheeks flushed as you almost teared up. His entire face was red as he stared at you in horror. Then you saw a flash in his eyes and you knew you were done for.

He grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. Then you felt a harsh slap at your ass, making you squeal. It was so much rougher than you had hit him. He stared at your back side and did it again.

"I can see why you found this so entertaining. I think I'll play with this for now."

"Unhand me you creatine!"

"I think not, if I let you go, who knows what else you'll do to me."

Zayne

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on Akso's best Cardiac Surgeon knew that one thing was a pure fact. He had an ass. His doctor's coat did a good job concealing it, but he couldn't wear it all the time. You had even noticed a few nurses who would glance down at him when he passed them in the hallway.

It was something you knew very well about Zayne, and something the man seemed oblivious to. The man didn't just have a dump truck as a rear end, it was a dump trailer. That shit could keep a family fed for an entire year. It was so perfect in every way. You could grab onto one cheek with both hands and you still wouldn't be able to capture the entire thing.

Yet for some reason, Zayne had no idea just how badly you needed his ass. You would often times find yourself staring at it when you hung out, had an appointment, or were just lounging at the apartments. It plagued your thoughts. You were losing sleep over this. It wasn't good for your health.

"Zayne..." You said as you relaxed on the couch next to him. You two were catching up on a TV show that you started well over a month ago but hadn't had time to really enjoy it.

"Yes, did you need something?" Oh how sweet he was, always looking out for you.

"Yes actually...can you lay down on your stomach for me? I wanna do something." You said, knowing that this man would do just about anything you asked. He eyed you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to play this game with you.

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Zayne took one more moment before giving in. He adjusted his position, laying down on his stomach just as you had asked. You decided to be subtle, leaning over his form and placing your hands on his shoulders at first. You gently caressed the skin there, massaging the muscles through his shirt as you slowly made your way down to the small of his back.

There it was. The prize. The holy grail of all asses. It was ripe for the taking as you looked over to see Zayne's closed eyes as he relaxed under your touch. You didn't hesitate. Your hands slapping down on his ass and grabbing it roughly.

His eyes shot open as he looked over at you. You licked your lips as you began gently slapping the flesh, watching the bounce as though it were made of jelly. It was a sight to behold and you couldn't help yourself. You had seconds before Zayne reacted and pulled your grubby little hands off him.

So you leaned your head in and bit down. His pants managed to cushion him from the force of your bite, but he sure as hell felt it. He sat up and grabbed you under the arms like a cat, stopping you in your tracks as you stared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with your nice ass."

"My butt is not a play thing."

You paused for a moment, eyes trailing down to the front of his pants, "If you aren't gonna let me slap your ass, can I play with your dick like it's a Bop-It?"

You watched Zayne go through five stages of grief. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket next to him, wrapping your entire body like a burrito so your limbs were no longer effective. He then sat back down on the couch with his legs open and placed you between, holding you tightly to his chest.

"I'm begging you, please be quiet for once and let's finish this show."

Rafayel

He should've known you were up to something if your gaze was anything to go off of. You had zeroed in on him the moment you had come over. Even during your little date as you two explored Linkon together, he knew something was up. Your not so subtle glances in his direction couldn't be considered innocent.

If only he knew why you were staring so hardcore. He had gotten a new pair of pants, or at least you assumed they were new. You were pretty sure you'd remember them with how good he looked at the moment. It was tight on him, accentuating his ass perfectly. You were pretty sure if you riled him it would also perfectly outline another aspect of him.

Still, you had a mission. Rafayel didn't know it yet, but the moment you had caught a glimpse of him this morning, you knew what had to be done. His muffins needed to be squished. His plump little cushions had to be properly admired and worshipped. You would be the one to happily give them the attention they deserved. An ass sculpted by the gods themselves were staring at you literally all day.

You closed the door to his home slowly, turning over to him. He was already heading to the living room. You slowly stalked behind him, and he could feel you were up to no good.

"Something caught your interest? I know I look good, but not even you normally stare at me this much."

"I just think you look particularly handsome today is all." As does his ass. You couldn't say that yet though, he would realize what your plans were if you verbalized it too early. Like a cat stalking a mouse, you followed him until he was in the living room. The moment he was by the couch you took action.

You rushed behind him and pressed down on the small of his back, making him stumble forward. He grabbed the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. Rafayel turned just in time to watch you drop down to your knees. Then he felt your hands harshly gripping his ass. Then the quick slaps in succession followed as you began laughing maniacally.

"Finally!" You said as you grabbed at them again. Rafayel finally reacted, rolling onto the couch to get away from your hands. You were practically panting as your hands twitched, "Come on Raf, lemme just squeeze em again."

"You are a psychopath." He said, hiding his ass from your view.

"I'm your psychopath though." Despite how horrified Rafayel looked, he was also amused by your antics. He grabbed at your arm, making you fall forward and your chest pressing against his own. His hands went to grab at your ass this time, squeezing them and laughing.

"You know, I think I'm seeing the appeal of this." He commented, his hands lazily hitting your ass cheeks like you had to him, although he was far more calm about it.

"See, it's amazing...now can I go back to playing with your butt? I wasn't done yet."

"I think not...although this has given me an idea. Do you mind if I paint your backside?"

"You wanna paint on my ass?"

"Perhaps."

"...I'll agree if you let me eat your-" Rafayel had never cut you off so quickly.

"Never mind."

The most accurate representation of what we're doing to these poor men. I will not be silenced. Their asses need to be slapped. And ate

[save-the-villainous-cat]

A very, very tsundere villian and a sweetheart sunshine hero?

"I used to have panic attacks before fighting you," the hero said quietly. Usually, their therapist was the only person allowed to know those things but the hero figured now that the villain had opened up to them, it was their turn. "I mean, I had panic attacks all the time before fights. Not because it was you but in general."

The villain stared at them curiously.

"I'm sorry," they said.

"It had nothing to do with you. I also used to throw up before exams." The hero smiled, not because it was amusing but because they were embarrassed to tell the villain. "But everyone said I had a gift, that I needed to fight...so, I just...I never told anyone and got to work."

"That sounds horrible," the villain said. "I had no idea."

"Yeah...I learnt to hide it. I was terrified of failing. I was so, so scared." The hero knew the villain wasn't a person of many words. Most of the time, the villain was quietly observing their surroundings. They talked when someone asked, didn't speak their mind, remained secretive. But when they had to, the villain was straightforward and clear.

And now that the hero knew why, they felt like the best comfort they could give them, was to share their fears and open up just like they had.

"What I am trying to say is: we can control some things but most things are out of reach for us. For some things, we are simply not responsible at all. Both of us," the hero said. They smiled and this time, they were truly content. "And look at us. We are doing so well."

"How do you do it?" the villain asked, their voice was softer than so many months ago. "How do you keep going?"

"I have to," the hero said.

"That's not what I asked, though." At that, the hero's smile widened.

"You've always been so direct. I love that about you."

"Ah, I get it," the villain said. They nodded and mirrored the hero's smile - surprisingly so, the hero hadn't seen them smile in a long time. "You're avoiding the discomfort."

"What? No...no, I'm very open to discomfort."

"By ignoring it and putting on a smile?"

"You know what? I don't like it when you ask so many questions." The hero pouted playfully and squeezed their eyes shut. However, they didn't expect the villain to put their arms around their waist and pull them closer. Before the hero even knew it, their chest was against the villain's with the villain's head in the crook of their neck.

"...don't be too mad at me, honey, okay?" they whispered against the hero's ear.

And all the hero could do was stand there. Stand there, pressed against the villain, heart to heart, and wonder how vulnerable they were at the moment. A year ago, the villain would have broken the hero's ribs in a position like this. But the hero didn't feel a trace of anxiety. They welcomed the comfort, enjoyed the presence of someone warm, someone who was thawing bit by bit.

"Are we fucked up?" the hero asked eventually.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"I still like you, though."

"I...I like you too. A lot. Thank you." The hero leaned back to look at them.

"For what?" they asked. They could feel the beat of their heart mercilessly rage in their ribcage. The villain was close, so unbelievably close.

"For showing me that I don't have to be cruel. For everything," they said. "I..."

The hero took the villain's hand and pressed it against their own heart.

"I think I love you," the villain said and the hero understood that the relentless drumming in their chest was not rooted in anxiety, but instead true and genuine happiness. "And...you're not a failure. You've never been. I want to help you. I...god, I am so bad at this."

"No, I understand," the hero said. They pressed a kiss to the villain's cheek. "I understand you perfectly."

And that was the whole point, wasn't it?

[wannabehockeygf]

I know it won’t work - Quinn Hughes

“And part of me wants to walk away ‘til you really listen,

I hate to look at your face and know that we’re feeling different,

‘Cause part of me wants you back but,

I know it won’t work like that?”

part 3, quinn hughes // gracie abrams fic trilogy

part 1 part 2

summary: back at home, you both feel different.

word count: 6.2k pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader warnings: cheating, characters in depressive states of mind. pls take care loves <3 notes: - it's finally here! - before anyone asks, i am not doing a part 4. i ended it this way on purpose! - check out my other work i recommend if you liked this, and i'm always open for requests! - is it clever that i did the whole "talking to a stranger on a train" thing again??? someone pls say yes - not really proofread!

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background. You stood at the stove, stirring the pasta sauce, your focus on the way it bubbled gently. A warm smile tugged at your lips as you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Smells amazing,” Quinn murmured into your hair, his voice low and content. He rested his chin on your shoulder, swaying slightly with you, his chest pressed against your back in a way that made you feel safe—like nothing could touch the two of you when you were like this.

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “You’re just saying that because you’re starving.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a chuckle, “But I mean it. You know I’m not great in the kitchen, so this is like… magic to me.” He squeezed you gently, his hands warm on your stomach, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, perfectly in sync with your own.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only seemed to happen when it was just the two of you. It wasn’t much—just a small, humble place, with mismatched furniture and a creaky floor that always groaned when Quinn walked over it. But in moments like this, it felt perfect. The soft, yellow light from the kitchen cast a gentle glow over the room, making everything feel cozy, like you were wrapped in a blanket made of love and laughter.

“I could get used to this,” Quinn said softly, his voice full of warmth. He kissed the side of your neck, and you leaned into the touch, feeling the happiness bubble up inside you like the sauce on the stove. “Coming home to you, having dinner together. It feels right.”

You turned in his arms, your heart swelling at the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His blue eyes were soft, filled with a quiet adoration that made your chest ache in the best way. You reached up, cupping his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

“You’re pretty easy to cook for,” you teased, grinning up at him.

His lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss you—soft and sweet, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. It was perfect. He was perfect. And for a second, you let yourself believe that this moment would last forever, that the warmth of his embrace and the tenderness of his kisses would never fade.

But then, suddenly, the room around you seemed to dissolve, the warmth of Quinn’s arms slipping away like sand through your fingers. The comforting hum of the apartment vanished, replaced by the cold, hollow sound of your own breathing.

You woke up.

The bed was empty.

Quinn was gone.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the dream faded, the sweet memory of that night together dissolving into the harsh reality that had been haunting you ever since you found out. Your fingers trembled as they gripped the sheets, the lingering warmth of his embrace still fresh in your mind, but now it felt like a lie—like everything you had built together had been a lie.

He cheated. He cheated on you, and no amount of sweet memories or perfect nights could take that away.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with the weight of everything that had happened. The night before, the way he’d held you at the station, the way his voice had cracked when he said he missed you—it all felt tainted now, like there was an invisible stain on every memory you had with him.

How could he do this? How could he say he loved you and then turn around and betray you like that?

You closed your eyes, the tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. Your chest ached, the pain sharp and unrelenting, as if your heart was being squeezed by invisible hands. The trust you had in him—the bond that had felt so strong—was shattered, scattered like pieces of glass that you didn’t know how to pick up.

The room felt cold, suffocating. You could still smell his cologne faintly on the pillow beside you, and it made your stomach twist with a nauseating mix of love and anger. You hated how much you missed him, how even now, after everything, your heart still ached for him.

How had it come to this?

With a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Your chest felt tight, the weight of Quinn’s betrayal pressing down on you like a stone. Every part of you wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something—anything—to make the pain go away. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly ahead, the silence of the room wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

The dream had felt so real—so perfect. You could still feel the ghost of his arms around you, the warmth of his breath on your neck. But now, all that was left was the cold, hard truth.

And no dream, no memory, could change that.

He had destroyed what you had, shattered the trust you had placed in him. And no matter how much you wanted to believe that things could still be okay, deep down, you knew they never would be. You knew it didn’t work like that.

You were awake now. And the dream… it was over.

The chill of the room seemed to seep into your very bones as you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: 5:48 AM. You hadn’t been getting much sleep these past couple weeks, so you were at least glad you got an amount–but what really stuck at you were the notifications. A few from Instagram, a text from your sister, but then… a missed call. A missed call from the United States, four hours ago. They hadn’t left a voicemail, so when you clicked on your call logs to take a better look, the name read ‘Maybe: Jack Hughes.’

What the hell was Quinn’s brother doing calling you?

It had been two weeks since Quinn dropped the bomb on you, which was when you didn’t give him any more of your time and flew back home. You hadn’t cried, not really, not until you landed in Richmond and asked your mom to pick you up for the first time since you were eighteen. And although the tears flowed, you couldn’t help but feel some nagging remorse when you saw the Canucks surrender to the Bruins in five. You didn’t care though–at least you didn’t want to.

But Jack? Why did he call you at one in the morning? Scratch that, four in the morning for him. Was he trying to get you to try to forgive his brother? Was Quinn seriously that desperate? You stared at your phone, his name mocking you.

Your finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. You didn’t know Jack that well—barely at all, really. Quinn had introduced you once, in passing, during one of those family gatherings where you tried to fit in with the chaotic but tight-knit Hughes clan. Jack had been polite, maybe a little cocky, but there hadn’t been much more to it. He was Quinn’s younger brother, and that had been enough. Now, though… now everything was different.

You took a deep breath, your thumb brushing over the edge of the phone. Why would he be calling you in the middle of the night? Was this some misguided attempt to fix things for Quinn? Your stomach twisted at the thought. The last thing you needed was another reminder of everything Quinn had shattered. But curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you toward the unknown, making you wonder if Jack’s call had been more than just a plea for his brother.

Before you could overthink it, you hit the call button.

The phone rang, and your heart pounded louder with each passing second. What if he didn’t pick up? What if this was a mistake? What if—

“Hello?” Jack’s voice, groggy and confused, came through the line, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Jack… hey, it’s me.” Your voice sounded small, like you weren’t sure of yourself anymore.

There was a pause, and you could practically hear him sitting up, becoming more alert. “Oh… hey. I didn’t think you’d call back.” His tone softened, the usual bravado gone, replaced with something quieter. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to wake you earlier. I just… I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

That caught you off guard. You sat up straighter, feeling the weight of his words settle in. He didn’t sound like someone trying to defend his brother. He sounded… lost. You hadn’t expected that.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw your call when I woke up. What’s going on?”

There was a long, heavy pause. You could hear the faint sound of him shifting around, maybe running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, like he was struggling with what to say. “I, uh… I know this is probably weird. I mean, we don’t really know each other that well, but…” He trailed off, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

You waited, your pulse quickening as you wondered where this was going. The city outside was slowly waking up, cars starting to hum along the street, but inside your apartment, everything felt still, suspended in this strange limbo between you and Jack.

“I’m sorry,” Jack finally said, his voice breaking the tension. “For everything Quinn did. I know I’m not the one who should be apologizing, but… God, I feel like I need to. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, taken aback by the raw sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t expected this. Not from Jack.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, your chest tightening with a confusing mix of emotions. Anger, hurt, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Jack let out a shaky breath. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know that… I get it. I’ve been watching Quinn these last few weeks, and… he’s a mess. Not that it makes anything better, but he hates himself for what he did. And I hate him for it too, because… because you deserved better.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. The sincerity in Jack’s voice tugged at something deep inside you, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. “It doesn’t change anything, Jack,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I loved him. I trusted him, and he just… he threw it all away.”

“I know,” Jack replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know, and I wish I could fix it, but… I can’t. No one can.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. The weight of everything—of Quinn’s betrayal, of Jack’s unexpected apology—pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. The memory of your dream, of Quinn’s arms around you, the warmth of his presence, felt like a cruel joke now, a reminder of what you had lost. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was sit there, numb, as Jack’s words sank in.

“I don’t know why I called,” Jack said after a while, his voice quiet. “I guess… I just wanted to tell you that Quinn’s not okay. Not that it makes a difference, but… he really screwed up, and he knows it. I think he just… he didn’t know how to handle things, and he panicked.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of your apartment. “That’s an understatement.”

Jack sighed, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence felt different now, less tense but still heavy with unspoken words. You leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing. Jack was the last person you had expected to hear from, and yet here he was, apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault.

“I appreciate you calling,” you said softly, the words surprising even you. “I didn’t expect it, but… thank you.”

Jack let out a breath, the sound relieved. “Yeah, of course. I just… I didn’t want you to think that no one cared. Because I do. We do, at least me and Luke.”

The sincerity in his voice stirred something inside you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you didn’t feel so alone. You didn’t know what would come next, or if this conversation would change anything, but in that moment, it felt like a small sliver of light breaking through the darkness.

“I’m not ready to forgive him,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jack.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jack replied, his voice gentle. “But if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything finally settling on your chest. “Thanks, Jack.”

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at your phone, the words you’d exchanged still hanging in the air. You didn’t know what would happen next, but at least now… now you didn’t feel quite so lost.

Quinn did, though. 

As Quinn lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept. His mind had become a storm of regret, guilt, and shame, swirling so violently that closing his eyes only made it worse. The silence of his empty apartment felt oppressive, pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe.

He had never thought it would get this bad—had never imagined he’d be the kind of person to ruin the one good thing in his life. But he had. He’d destroyed it all, and now he was left with the wreckage.

Turning over in the sheets, Quinn let out a long, shaky breath. The memory of your face the last time he saw you kept replaying in his mind. The way your eyes had welled with hurt, the way your lips had trembled as you fought to keep it together. It haunted him. He had expected you to scream, to yell, to throw things—anything but that quiet, broken disappointment that cut deeper than any words could have.

He had been a coward.

Quinn scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that had started to form along his jaw–a five-o-clock shadow, pushing six. He hadn’t bothered shaving. What was the point? He could barely look at himself in the mirror.

The worst part—the part that made his stomach twist with nausea—was knowing that no apology, no amount of regret could fix this. You had trusted him, and he had shattered that trust, not with one impulsive mistake but with a series of decisions he could never take back. And for what? Some fleeting moment of confusion, some stupid impulse he hadn’t even understood at the time.

He groaned and sat up, unable to bear the suffocating weight of his thoughts any longer. The clock on his bedside table blinked back at him. Too early, too late—time had lost meaning. All he knew was that he needed to move, to escape the prison of his mind, if only for a little while.

Without thinking, Quinn swung his legs out of bed and grabbed the first pair of running shoes he could find. The cold air hit him like a slap when he stepped outside, but he welcomed it. Anything to clear his head.

The streets were empty, the city still sleeping, save for the occasional car passing by. Quinn set off at a slow jog, his breath coming out in exasperated puffs. He focused on the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement, the steady thump of his heart in his chest. For a moment, it felt like the weight lifted—like the physical strain could drown out the emotional turmoil. But as the minutes passed, his thoughts returned, each step bringing him closer to the memories he was trying to outrun.

He had never been the best with words. Expressing how he felt was something that had always tripped him up. But with you, it had always been different. You had a way of pulling things out of him, making him feel safe, seen. And yet, he had thrown that away, too caught up in his own fear and insecurities to see what was right in front of him.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet became erratic as his mind spiraled. He pushed himself harder, faster, as if he could outrun the shame, the self-hatred that gnawed at him.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement. He didn’t care if anyone heard. The streets were still deserted, just him and his regrets.

He had no idea what Jack had said to you—whether his brother had tried to make excuses for him, to smooth things over. Quinn didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve to be let off the hook. And God, he didn’t want you to think for a second that any of this had been your fault.

But the damage was done. He had messed up in ways he could never take back, and now… now he was alone with nothing but the echo of your absence.

Quinn’s hands clenched into fists, the cool air biting at his skin. He couldn’t stand himself right now. The weight of everything was suffocating. He had never wanted to be that guy—the one who hurt someone they loved. But here he was.

He glanced up at the sky, dark and endless, a sharp contrast to the chaos inside him. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could go back, that he could rewind time to before everything fell apart. But there was no going back. There was only the aftermath.

And you were gone.

Quinn swallowed hard, his chest tightening as the reality of it all settled in. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—knowing he had lost you or knowing that he was the reason why. He bent down, hands on his knees, the steady thump of his pulse in his ears as he tried to ground himself. But no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't outrun the one thing that haunted him the most: your absence. It clung to him, an ever-present ghost reminding him of every mistake he'd made.

Straightening up, Quinn glanced around. The world felt so distant, like it was moving without him. The city was slowly waking up, the quiet hum of early-morning traffic starting to build. He hadn’t realized how far he'd run, his legs carrying him on autopilot. His apartment felt like another world entirely, but the thought of returning to it—to that suffocating silence—made his stomach turn.

He exhaled, his breath shaky as he scanned the empty street. In the distance, the soft rumble of the skytrain reached his ears. Maybe that was what he needed. To just… drift for a while. Let the city move him, take him anywhere but back to the memories that gnawed at his insides.

Without thinking, Quinn jogged toward the nearest station, a beacon of escape. As he approached, he tapped his card and climbed the stairs, the rhythmic hum of the escalator filling his ears. He kept his head down, avoiding the curious glances of the few commuters on the platform. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to be invisible, just another lost soul in the early morning haze.

The train arrived with a low hiss, the doors sliding open. Quinn stepped inside, his footsteps echoing in the near-empty car. He slid into a seat by the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. The city outside blurred as the train began to move, and for a moment, the steady rhythm of the rails beneath him offered a strange sense of comfort.

Quinn closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him once again. He could still see your face, the way you’d looked at him that last time—like he had shattered something precious. And he had. He had taken the one good thing in his life and broken it beyond repair.

The train rumbled on, passing through station after station, the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the city. Quinn didn’t move. He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. As long as he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to face the reality of what he’d done.

The memory of Jack’s words from their last conversation drifted back to him, unbidden. You’re a mess, man. You need to fix this before it’s too late.

Too late. That phrase had been circling in his mind for weeks now. He wondered if it had already been too late from the moment he’d made that first mistake. The thought gnawed at him, tightening the knots in his chest.

A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. “Hey, uh… are you Quinn Hughes?”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, and he blinked, startled. A man, probably the same age as him, was standing a few seats away, looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hesitation.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered, not in the mood for fan encounters. But he wasn’t rude enough to brush the guy off completely.

The man smiled, but it was more subdued than Quinn had expected. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. Just… I recognized you, and I’m a big fan.”

Quinn nodded, feeling the weight of his own misery creeping back in. He wasn’t used to people seeing him like this—disheveled, lost, broken. The Quinn Hughes fans admired was confident, composed, in control. Not… whatever this was.

The man hesitated, glancing at the empty seat across from Quinn. “Mind if I sit?”

Quinn shrugged. “Sure.”

As the guy sat down, there was an awkward silence, the train’s steady hum filling the space between them. Quinn stared out the window, watching the city blur past, but he could feel the man’s eyes on him.

“So, uh… you alright?” the guy asked, his voice soft.

Quinn stiffened, not expecting that. “What?”

“I don’t know,” the guy said with a shrug, leaning back in his seat. “You just… you don’t look okay. Sorry if that’s out of line.”

Quinn let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

The man didn’t push, which Quinn appreciated. Instead, he sat quietly, as if waiting for Quinn to say more if he wanted to. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the loneliness that had been eating away at him, but Quinn found himself talking before he could stop.

“I screwed up,” he said, his voice low. “Really, really bad.”

The guy nodded, not looking surprised. “Relationships, right? They’re complicated as hell.”

Quinn shot him a look, narrowing his eyes slightly. “How’d you guess?”

“Lucky guess,” the guy said with a small smile. “Plus, I’ve been there. Maybe not exactly the same, but close enough.”

Quinn leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the train. “Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” the guy agreed, his tone more serious now. “But you know, people make mistakes. It’s part of being human. What matters is what you do after.”

Quinn let out a breath, his chest tight. “I don’t think it matters what I do now. I already lost her.”

The guy tilted his head, studying Quinn for a moment. “Do you love her?”

Quinn’s stomach twisted at the question. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then maybe it’s not too late,” the guy said quietly. “If she meant that much to you… maybe you owe it to both of you to try. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you gave it everything you had.”

Quinn swallowed, his throat tight. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple. But there was something in the guy’s words that struck a chord, something that made the weight on his chest feel a little lighter, if only for a moment.

The man smiled again, this time more brightly. “You got a picture of her?”

Quinn hesitated for a second, but before he knew it, his phone was in his hand. He scrolled through the gallery, his heart aching as he landed on a photo of the two of you, taken months ago. You were smiling, your arm around him, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your face. Quinn handed the phone over, the image making his chest tighten painfully.

The man glanced at it, nodding appreciatively. “She’s beautiful. You two look… happy.”

Quinn couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh. “We were.”

The guy handed the phone back, his expression softening. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’ve still got a chance.”

Quinn sighed, pocketing the phone. “I don’t know, man. I really messed things up.”

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. “Well, if you ever get things back on track… and even if you don’t… mind signing this? I’ll tell people I met you on a rough day, but you’re still one of the best players out there.”

Quinn blinked, the unexpected request catching him off guard. He took the pen and scribbled his name in the notebook, handing it back.

“Thanks,” the man said with a grin. “And good luck, Quinn. You’ll figure it out.”

As the man stood up to leave, Quinn watched him go, feeling a strange sense of gratitude settle over him. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Maybe there was still a sliver of light, buried somewhere in all the darkness.

The train rumbled on, and Quinn leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling again. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe… just maybe, he could find his way out of this mess.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And he had to try, even if it made things worse.

Quinn’s heart pounded harder with every step as he approached your apartment building. His breath hitched as he stood outside the familiar entrance, his mind replaying every moment that had led him here. The conversations, the fights, the silence. And worst of all, the empty spaces in his life where you used to be.

For a moment, he hesitated, staring up at the building, the early morning light casting long shadows across the street. He could turn around. He could walk away, leave it all behind, and pretend like he hadn’t just spent the last hour convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

But something inside him, something raw and desperate, wouldn’t let him.

With a shaky breath, Quinn crossed the threshold and made his way up the stairs. His legs felt heavy, the exhaustion from the run settling into his bones, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was this close.

Your door stood in front of him, an unassuming barrier between him and the possibility of fixing everything… or breaking it beyond repair.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, harder than he intended, the sound echoing in the hallway. Quinn’s chest tightened as he waited, the silence that followed feeling like an eternity. What if you didn’t answer? What if you weren’t home? Or worse—what if you were home, and you refused to see him?

His pulse quickened, panic starting to creep in, but he forced it down. He couldn’t think like that. Not now.

“Please,” he muttered under his breath, leaning his forehead against the door. “Please just let me explain.”

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, his heart sinking as the silence stretched on. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe Jack was right—he really was a mess.

But then, the sound of the door unlocking cut through the quiet, and Quinn’s breath hitched.

The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing in the doorway, your expression unreadable. Quinn’s heart stopped for a second, the sight of you making the air leave his lungs. You looked tired, your eyes puffy like you hadn’t slept, and Quinn’s chest ached with the realization that he had caused that.

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, waiting.

Quinn's heart felt like it was lodged in his throat as you stood in front of him,  your silence more suffocating than any words could have been. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of you moved. His breath came in shallow bursts, his chest constricting painfully as he struggled to find the right words—any words—that could undo the damage. But standing there, face to face with you, everything he had rehearsed in his mind vanished, like smoke in the wind.

He could see the hurt etched into the lines of your face, in the way your eyes didn’t shine the way they used to. There was a rawness there, a kind of vulnerability that made Quinn want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he knew—he knew—that wouldn’t be enough.

“Hi,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt ridiculous, small. But it was all he could manage.

You didn’t respond right away. Your eyes searched his face, like you were looking for something—an answer, a reason, an explanation. Something that might make sense of the chaos he had caused. But whatever you were looking for, Quinn feared you wouldn’t find it in him.

“I…” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep talking. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. I… I just need you to hear me out.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as if bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next. Your posture wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t welcoming either. Quinn felt the distance between you two like a chasm, one that he had dug with every mistake, every lie, every selfish decision.

“Quinn, I—” you started, but he cut you off, the desperation in his voice spilling over before he could stop it.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just… I need you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists at his sides, trying to steady himself. “I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Every day, it’s like this hole inside me gets bigger, and I can’t fill it. I know it’s my fault. I know I ruined us. But I just—” He paused, his breath hitching. “I can’t let it end like this.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Quinn’s heart pounded in his ears as he waited, his pulse a steady, anxious thrum in his veins. He could feel his words hanging in the air between you, fragile and trembling, like they could shatter at any moment.

“I don’t know if you understand what you did, Quinn,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word cut through him like a blade. “It wasn’t just one mistake. It wasn’t just the cheating. It was everything that came with it—the lies, the way you acted like you were the only one hurting.”

Quinn flinched, the guilt gnawing at him again, the memories of those dark nights when he’d pushed you away, drowning in his own self-pity. He had been so caught up in his own spiral that he hadn’t realized he was dragging you down with him.

“I do understand,” he said, but his voice wavered, unsure. “At least, I’m starting to. I’ve been… I’ve been trying to figure out how I could do something so—”

“Cruel?” you interrupted, and your voice cracked, the first sign of emotion slipping through your stoic exterior. Your eyes glistened for a moment, but you blinked it away quickly. “You shattered me, Quinn. Do you even know what that felt like? To find out like that? To hear it after I came to fucking Boston for you?”

You lowered your gaze, your expression softening but not in the way Quinn had hoped. It wasn’t anger or even sadness—it was something worse. Resignation. A quiet acceptance that made Quinn’s chest tighten painfully.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I have it in me to keep getting hurt.”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to nod, even though every fiber of his being wanted to protest. He knew this was coming—had known it for weeks, months even—but hearing it out loud made it real in a way that nothing else could.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I know, and I don’t blame you. I just… I thought maybe if I tried, if I showed you how much you mean to me, you’d—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. It was useless. He couldn’t make you stay. He couldn’t make you forgive him. And trying to push you would only make things worse.

Your eyes met his again, and there was a softness in them now, but it wasn’t hope. It was sorrow. “I loved you, Quinn. I really did.”

Quinn felt his heart shatter all over again, each word landing like a blow. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to pull you close and tell you that it didn’t have to end like this. But he knew—he knew—there was nothing left to say. Nothing that could fix this. You were done, and he could feel it in the way you stood, like you were already halfway gone.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he said quietly, the admission spilling out of him like a confession. “Even if you never take me back. Even if I never see you again.”

You blinked, and for a second, Quinn thought he saw your resolve waver. But then you shook your head, the movement so small, so subtle, that it was almost imperceptible.

“I’m sorry, Quinn,” you whispered. “I just… I can’t go through this again.”

The finality in your words hit him like a brick, and Quinn felt the last shred of hope slip through his fingers, cold and unrelenting. He nodded slowly, his throat tight with the weight of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. This was it. The end.

You glanced down at your feet, biting your lip before looking back up at him. “I hope… I hope you find peace. I really do.”

Quinn’s breath hitched in his chest, and he swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with the effort of holding back tears. He nodded again, unable to trust his voice.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, caught in the heavy silence of everything that was left unsaid. Quinn wanted to stay. He wanted to linger in your presence for as long as possible, even if it was just in this painful, heartbreaking moment. But he knew he had to let you go.

With a shaky breath, Quinn took a step back, his body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. He forced himself to turn around, each step away from you feeling like it was pulling him apart at the seams. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

As he reached the stairs, Quinn paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. You were still standing there, watching him, your expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything that would make this less painful. But all that came out was a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Goodbye.”

And with that, Quinn turned and walked away, the cold morning air biting at his skin as he disappeared into the street. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Outside, the city was waking up, the streets beginning to fill with people going about their lives, unaware of the devastation that had just unfolded in that small apartment. Quinn stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, his chest tight, his heart a mess of broken pieces.

He had lost you. For good this time.

And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was something else—something he hadn’t expected. Closure.

It wasn’t the ending he had wanted. It doesn’t work like that, and he knew it.

But it was the ending he deserved.

[mayajadewrites]

could've been you - shouta aizawa, keigo takami

✦ synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: angst hehe

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie

chapter nine

Your heart starts to race.

The space where Keigo once was is now empty. His duffle bag - gone. You stand up so quick you almost fall over.

You check your phone. No text.

2:45 AM.

You press his contact and call 1, 2, 3, then 10 times.

No answer.

Tears well up in your eyes as you accept this fate - that Keigo snuck out. Left you.

You tried climbing back into bed but you can't sleep.

You put your softed robe on and pad to Aizawa's door. It's late, sure, but he's probably awake.

And you still don't have his number so this is how you communicate.

You knock on the door as quietly as you can, careful not to wake up anyone else on your floor.

After a few knocks, the door opens.

Aizawa rubs his eye before finally looking at you. He can tell you've been crying.

"What happened?" He grabbed you by your shoulders and brought you into his place.

You didn't answer - you couldn't. How could you explain that you just let a man fuck you and he left?

"Please talk to me." Aizawa's voice was soft now as he set next to you on the couch.

"Keigo left." You sniffle.

"Left? Left to where? What do you mean?"

"We had sex, fell asleep and then he left. He didn't leave a note or anything! I called, no answer."

Aizawa's eyebrows almost reached the top of his forehead. "He didn't say goodbye? No explanation?"

"No. His bag is gone. He's gone."

Shouta's face was full of anger. You observed his body language - he was tense.

But then he held you. No words were exchanged. His body heat was against yours as his body mended into yours.

His hair was pulled back into a low bun - your favorite. He pulled you on top of him so your back was on his chest.

You took a deep breath as his arms tightened around you, almost like a weighted blanket. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes started to feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Shouta." You murmured as your eyes began to close.

"For what?" His calloused hand caressed the soft skin on your cheek.

You mouth parted as a quiet snore left your lips.

-

When you woke up the next morning, you were in a bed.

Not your bed.

Your face is buried in a large, soft pillow with a dark gray pillowcase. The blankets are shades of gray and black, the fabric so soft against your skin.

You heard the sizzling of oil in a pan, along with soft music playing through the apartment.

"Good morning." You emerged from the bedroom, watching Shouta cook breakfast. "Hope I didn't wake you."

He was shirtless, his hair up again, flipping a pancake with a spatula.

You shook your head as you yawned, padding towards the kitchen. Shouta half-smiled as you approached him. He wanted to kiss you so bad. He wanted to take you on the counter, pulling your hair as he watched your ass cheeks jiggle against his cock.

"You didn't." You looked down at your robe that you were still wearing. "I'm gonna grab clothes from my place quick, I don't want to wear this robe anymore."

"You can wear something of mine." Shouta walked to his room, opening a drawer with crewnecks folded perfectly, then another drawer with sweatpants.

He handed you the clothing, your nose instantly recognizing the scent of Shouta.

"I'll leave you to it." He turned around and went back to cooking.

As you changed into his clothes you couldn't help but notice the feeling in your stomach. Butterflies fluttering.

A feeling you haven't really felt with Keigo. Especially with the shit he pulled.

Speaking of Keigo, you checked your phone to see if he text you.

You had 40 missed calls from him, 55 texts.

Why even bother reading them? He left you with no communication. It takes 4 seconds to say goodbye.

You make Shouta's bed for him, laying the pillows nicely along the headboard. You left your phone on his nightstand to join him in the kitchen.

Shouta served you your breakfast with an iced coffee - he remembered from when you were observing his class how you liked it.

"Thank you." You dug your fork into your pancakes, letting the sweet taste hit your tongue. "I didn't take you for a cook, Eraser."

"I'm full of surprises." He smirked, his half lidded eyes finding yours.

You heard a hand banging on a door a couple doors down from Shouta.

Your room.

Both you and Shouta walk to the door, him opening it as his body rested against your back.

And there you saw a peek of red feathers.

"Leave." You stepped out of the doorway. "You took all your stuff already, so you're free to go."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you, that was a mistake. I-"

"She said to leave." Shouta emerged from the doorway, standing behind you again. "You didn't have the decency to say goodbye, it's embarrassing that you even try to show your face here again."

"I was on call, there was an attack, I had to-"

"All of which I would have understood if you used your words and told me. You may be a grown man but you act like a child." You press your back to Shouta's muscular chest for comfort. "Only an absolute asshole fucks someone and dips in the middle of the night. That will be the last time you're ever inside of me." You turned on your heel to walk back into Shouta's place.

"Baby bird, I-"

"She was pretty clear on what she wanted. If I see you here again, you will have hell to pay."

After a few minutes, Keigo left. You heard his heavy footsteps walk out of the building, then he took flight into the air. You watched from the window, but he didn't look back.

"Stupid fucking bird." Shouta sucked his teeth as he took a sip of his coffee. "You're gonna stay with me today. He's probably gonna try to come back later."

You didn't bother to argue. "Okay."

It really bothered Shouta that Keigo left you at such a vulnerable time. It's scary giving yourself to someone and then they leave. It fucks with the psyche.

"You know, I never got your number." You looked at Shouta as he cleaned the kitchen.

"Because you told me I was never getting yours."

"Well, I changed my mind." You crossed your awms over your chest.

"Hm, what makes you think I want your number?"

"Come on, Eraser." You grab his muscular arm, wrapping both of your arms around it. "You know you can't resist me."

"Tch." He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "You just like my place more than yours."

"It's cozy, unlike you. You have these hard muscles that are terrible to lay on." You looked up at him with your doe, Disney princess eyes.

"They're good for other things." He smirked as he picked you up by your waist, sitting you on the counter.

You can't help but smile as he cages your hips with his forearms, his chocolate eyes boring into yours.

"You're cute from up here." You tuck a piece of his hair behind your ear.

"You're cute in my clothes." Shouta's thumb traced circles on your plush thigh. "Your ass looks way better in them than mine does."

You playfully slap his arm, hooking your ankles together to pull him closer to you.

The feeling of Shouta being so close to you makes your stomach flip with a mixture of butterflies and anxiety.

It was so easy to kiss Keigo, but you're more excited when you're around Shouta.

You were expecting him to go in for a kiss, but instead he rubbed his nose on yours, interlacing his fingers around your ass.

It was an intimate moment. No pressure, no fear of him leaving.

Your memories with Shouta begin to flood your mind, how he betrayed you. How he didn't listen to you. How he assisted in putting you in a coma.

Can the past truly stay in the past? Can you look beyond what was done?

You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, letting your body fall into him.

You will try.

[yawnderu]

Idyllic - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

content: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, your honor, they love each other.

What is a promise if not the way you fit perfectly in my arms? I can express myself easily and bark out orders at anyone, yet I don't have the courage to ask you out on a date.

''Si?'' Your soft voice takes me away from my thoughts. My heart is in my throat for a second before I look up at you, giving you a silent nod of acknowledgement. I don't dare speak yet, I don't want you to know how enamored I am of you.

''I was thinking... would you like to come home with me for Christmas? Soap and Gaz are going to visit their family, and the old man is going to go fishing.'' I resist the urge to chuckle at the way you refer to Price as ''old man'' and the way your nose scrunches up in slight disgust at the idea of going fishing with him. I look down at the gun I was oiling up absentmindedly, pretending to think about it.

''... sure.'' I finally look back at you, already feeling your eyes burn into me. I feel like I'm being held down by an invisible force that makes my body feel heavy.

''That'd be nice.'' I add, not wanting to seem uninterested, yet not wanting to make you realize how much I like you, despite already knowing you do. I raise an eyebrow as you get closer, your arms wrapping around my waist from behind, the same way you started doing months ago. My hands wrap around yours, fingers intertwined on your much smaller ones.

''I promise it'll be cozy. I'll even let you choose what we eat for breakfast, as long as it's not beans on toast.'' Your voice is slightly muffled as your cheek rests against my back, yet you still manage to drag a soft laugh out of me. All those jabs about me being British never get old, not when they come from you.

''Don't knock it 'til you try it, love.'' I reply teasingly, another quiet laugh coming out my masked lips when you groan loudly and say ''ew''. I don't even like beans on toast, but if teasing me about it makes you talk to me more, I'll keep up with the white lie.

''That's awful. We're eating something that wasn't made when the Germans were flying overhead.'' I roll my eyes, secretly happy that I keep my mask on so you can't see the stupid smile on my face, just like every single time I'm with you.

''Ever tried fish n chips, luv?'' I exaggerate my accent, the cracks on my soul slowly being fixed one by one when I hear you laugh, feeling your body shake softly behind me before you force me to turn around on the chair, your hands carrying their warmth to my cheeks despite the fabric covering them.

''You wanna fuckin' go, lad?'' Your fake and extremely poor impression of a British accent makes my brain melt, but I still find myself leaning my forehead on your shoulder to hide the way my eyes crinkle at your words. Have you been spending too much time with Gaz? Who in the world is teaching you how to be a roadman? It's funny. I bit the inside of my cheek when you broke away and got into a defensive playfight position, already knowing I was in for a treat.

''What was that?'' I get up from the chair, playfully jabbing your shoulder before getting into a fighting position as well. Your body is left unprotected when you laugh, so I take the chance to give you a very soft, mock punch in the stomach, making you laugh harder. ''Fuckin' 'ave it, ya slag.'' I never even knew how much I needed you.

tag list: @rindulacre

[sarahghetti]

there's only one bed; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how the boys handle the "there's only one bed" situation.

warnings: mild angst.

moon knight masterlist | all masterlists

marc

ironically suggests building a wall out of pillows.

“how am I supposed to know that you aren’t going to latch on to me in the middle of the night?” he raises an eyebrow, the mirth in this voice betraying his otherwise serious expression.

you groan, shoving him playfully as he laughs. “just go to bed, marc.”

generally, he takes no issue with the situation—you’re both adults here, you can act like ones too. he takes the side closest to the door and faces away from you from the start.

falls asleep as fast as he usually does unless you’re being really disruptive, in which case he’ll just say your name as a warning without even bother to turn over to look at you.

for all his jokes, when morning comes, he’s the one who latched on to you.

marc stirs awake with his arms wrapped around something warm and a sweet smell in his nose. he doesn’t process it right away, and ends up pulling you closer to fill in the gap between you.

you shift in your sleep, the movement waking him up a little more, and that’s when the realization hits him like a truck.

he rapidly blinks his eyes into focus. while sleeping, he’d travelled across the bed to curl around your back, holding you close to his chest with one arm snaked under your neck, the other around your waist.

immediately, he tries to slip away but to no avail as you grab at his arms and press back into him, sighing contently.

despite how marc might feel for you, he doesn’t let himself enjoy the moment for a second. excuses pile on doubts pile on insecurities, and he proceeds to lay there, perfectly still, mind a whirring mess as you doze away in his arms.

this isn’t his life. he hasn’t felt this way for anyone in who-knows-how-long that he didn’t realize just how much he yearned for the connection, the contact until now.

when you finally wake up, he gives no indication as to what’s going on in his head as he gently untangles himself and sits up. no matter what reaction you have towards him cuddling you, all you get is an apologetic little smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before he starts talking about the day ahead.

as if he hasn’t felt so rested in years. as if he were unaffected by it all, by you, and wouldn’t be thinking about this for nights to come.

steven

unironically suggests building a wall out of pillows.

when you furrow your brows at him, really?, he starts fidgeting on the spot.

“I’m just saying!” steven raises his hands in defense, face flushing a deeper and deeper red the longer you look at him. it takes everything in you not to smile, but ultimately, you can’t help it. “oh, you—you’re absolutely terrible, you know that?”

he keeps going as you both settle into bed because you can’t help but giggle in response, which only makes him playfully insult you some more, which makes you laugh, and the feedback loop goes on for a while until you’re both under the covers, grinning at each other in the dark.

it’s quiet now, and you think that it’s time for both of you to turn in for the night when he pipes up— “seriously though, should we start gathering pillows or are you good?”

your cheeks hurt; you can’t do this again. “god, steven!”

“what!”

it takes a bit for either of you to fall asleep after that, but you stay facing each other as you do.

steven opens his eyes the next morning and sees your face far, far closer than you were last night, your noses lightly pressed together along with the rest of your bodies.

his arms hold you close, and your hands are gently fisted into the front of his shirt. one of his legs is trapped between your own.

“oh.” steven can’t help but to take the opportunity to admire you, especially since it’s not like he’s going to be moving anytime soon. the way the light catches in your hair, the slow rise and fall of your chest, the heat of your breath against his skin.

he has half a mind to go back to sleep; he’s so relaxed just from laying here with you.

when you finally stir awake, he holds his breath, waiting to see how you react.

“morning,” you smile, and don’t pull away.

that sends his poor heart into overdrive, and he just barely manages to reply, “morning.”

you’re unexpectedly cuddling in bed, yet neither of you are willing to move. it’s a shift in your relationship, you can feel it with every brush of his finger against your back, and with the way he’s looking at you—he knows this, too.

the sentiment hangs in the air, daring either of you to mention it until you finally throw caution into the wind. your voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m kinda glad we didn’t build that wall.”

the smile he gives you is warmer than the sun streaming through the curtains, and you think, yeah, you could get used to this.

jake

immediately turns to waggle his eyebrows at you suggestively, which makes you snort.

“get your head out of the gutter, lockley.” you roll your eyes, but smile despite yourself.

he doesn’t cause too much of a fuss after that, and you both quietly settle in soon after.

he’s flat on his back, eyes closed, so still that you think he’s already out for the night. just as you start to drift off, his voice cuts through the silence.

“if you get cold, just let me know.” his tone is innocent but you know better, especially when the smirk on his face is very much the opposite.

you kick him under the covers, and fall asleep with his laughter ringing in your mind.

jake wakes up in the same position except with a line of warmth all along his side and something tickling his neck.

when he looks down to see your head on his chest, hair splayed out and arm wrapped around his middle, he grins.

it’s stupid and cheesy but he can’t help himself—how could he? this is everything he’s ever dreamed of, and he’s going to bask in it while the moment lasts.

and it’s not about being close to just anyone, it’s about being close to you.

because he might joke around a lot and come off as brash at times, but there’s a genuineness behind it all—his true feelings always left unsaid or veiled behind several layers of sarcasm and wit.

so, yeah, maybe he has a bit of himself to blame for the fact that your relationship remains at a standstill, barely veering on the precipice of something more because jake’s too scared to admit any of his actual feelings.

but he’s bolder now as you slumber, shushing you softly when you nearly stir awake. “it’s still early, cariño, go back to sleep.”

he traces patterns into your back to try to lull you back to sleep, and while it is relaxing, something sticks out in your mind.

“what did you just call me?” you mumble, not even bothering to open your eyes.

jake goes quiet for a while, hand still moving absentmindedly against your skin before finally responding.

“cariño.”

he’s used that endearment with you before, and always with that smirk of his. you blow the air out of your mouth, a skeptical pffff.

“yeah, okay.” but you’re fighting against a smile anyway, trying to hide it into his chest.

jake doesn’t call you out on it for once and just holds you tighter, memorizing the scene with every fibre of his being before you both inevitably have to get up.

one day, he thinks—one day he’ll call you that, and you’ll smile and believe him.

[goodgirlofglory]

Hiya doll! 👋 Finals month is still in motion, so I’ve been pretty quiet on the asks. But today I was feeling some sort of way, and I wanted to know if you’re open to this request.

“Bucky with a reader who is insecure about her body”

Basically, I see a lot of representation for plus size girlies on tumblr ( and this is no hate to anyone) but I wish there was also more representation for midsize girlies. Also for girls who are on the taller side, I’m talking 5”7 and up. I’m 5”7 myself, and wearing any shoe that gives me extra inches makes me feel like I tower over my friends or others.

Another thing is, if you do write for this ask, I was thinking that even though reader does have a low self-esteem, she puts on a front and seems like she has a majorrrrrr ego or god complex. So maybe, Bucky see through that, gets her down from there, and fucks her in front of a mirror 🫣🥵

And I oop-

Anyways, regardless to everything, have a fantastic day/night and rest of your week! I appreciate you 💜💜💜

Bestie!!!!🦋

I hope your finals went well!🫶🫶🫶

I am soooo sorry this took so long! It needed to sit with me for a while before I felt I could do it justice, and then life happened in the meantime ya'know.

Anyways I so dearly hope you like this🙏🙏 I resonated a lot with your prompt as a midsize girlie myself and channeled some of my own experience into it (though I have sadly never been fucked in front of a mirror by Bucky Barnes)💖

Anyway, hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are, you are a true gem 🫶✨️🫶✨️🫶

(Also can’t wait to hear what you think of this so lmk😘)

Just perfect / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x secretlyinsecure!taller!midsize!reader

Word count: 7,8k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, SMUT, bathroom sex, fucking in front of a mirror, dom!Bucky, unprotected p in v (be safe my sweet darlings), a split second of oral (f receiving), reader is insecure and has some harmful thoughts about her own body.

Summary: A rather dreadful Christmas party at S.H.I.E.L.D takes a turn for the better (and frankly therapeutical) when Bucky Barnes shows you that your self-deprecating thoughts about your body might not be as objective as you thought.

“Mid,” you muttered to yourself as you looked over your outfit one more time in the mirror, fighting down the nagging notion of not feeling entirely satisfied with the reflection. The little, black dress fit you perfectly, hugging your upper body like a second skin before flaring out in the shimmering, silk fabric of the skirt that reached just below your knees. Appropriate for a work party, while the hidden slit in the side of the skirt was just a little something extra cheeky for those who’d pay attention. You doubted anyone would. It fit your persona as a ruthless man repeller perfectly too. No flashy colors, no risque shapes, no cutouts and not too short. No fun either, but that wasn’t important here. The cleavage even appeared modest with the average size of your breasts. 

“Fucking mandatory Christmas party,” you muttered as you grabbed your bag and left your apartment to head to the Avengers compound for the second time that day. How is it even allowed to make an after hours social event mandatory, you wondered angrily as you got in the waiting cab. You kept adjusting your dress as the city slowly flashed by outside the cab window, second guessing everything about your outfit from the dress to the shoes to the bag to the red lipstick you’d dared yourself to put on, afraid it was too much and too basic at the same time. 

You knew it was ridiculous to feel so self conscious about yourself and your body. For all intents and purposes, you were perfectly and quite uninterestingly average, neither plus size nor skinny. You knew your plus size girlies had a way harder time being judged and disrespected for their size, and you didn’t want to be too skinny either, like malnourished. You were perfectly midsize, eating healthy and exercising for your body's sake, eating chocolate and pasta and drinking beer for your mental health’s sake. You were perfectly. average. midsize.

It was just that, the lack of appreciation and attention over the years has slowly chipped away at your confidence, and then your self-image, and then your self-esteem, to a point that it was difficult to even rouse any positive thoughts about yourself that didn’t feel half-hearted or mandatory for the girlboss-affirmation of the day. 

The one thing you had going for you, the one thing you felt unequivocally confident about, was your job. Working as one of the high level secretaries for Fury himself, you actually had quite the high seat in the house, with clearance, authority and trust from the big man on top himself. It also meant saying no to quite a lot of things and people on a daily basis, to stop people from charging into the director's office in anger, to be authoritative enough to make people listen and actually do whatever orders you delivered on the director’s behalf (and your own sometimes). The job, which you loved and had worked hard to get, was just a tad challenging to splice with a lack of self-image.

So you’ve built a ruthless, badass, girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight persona for yourself, known for being resistant to all flattery, all bribes, all flirting and all begging. Nothing got past you and everyone seemed just a little afraid of you. It was true, you’d garnered the nickname “the other she-hulk” among your peers. And though you embodied this persona like the most natural thing in the world, it was also a front really, for your honest to God lack of confidence in your everything average.

Oh yeah, except for your height, you realized as you got out of the cab at your destination and was hailed over by the other female colleagues in your department waiting outside the compound - the shoes you wore turned out to give you several inches of height on the other girls, even as they also wore stiletto-like heels. In the height department, you were just above average, which did not make you feel any better necessarily. 

Fuck. You looked like their fucking body guard, looming behind them like a giraffe as you made your way inside, them smiling and laughing, you affecting your haughty mask, the one that protected you the best when you were feeling a bit off-kilter. Better to deem everyone here below your interest before they even had a chance to assess you, right?  

The party was nice. They’d somehow managed to make the compound not feel like a concrete bunker, decorating almost every surface with some fabric or other, flashy reds and silvers and greens and blues, giant trees everywhere overloaded with decorations. Maximalism galore.

“It looks like Santa exploded in here,” you joked to your colleagues, receiving a bout of wild laughter in return. It hadn’t really been that funny, but hey, maybe you could be known as the “other deadpool” in the future if you worked hard enough on your comedy. 

As usual, the lovelier girls of your department got swarmed pretty quickly by guys. Recruits, officers, cadets, other secretaries - they all flocked to your group. You didn’t blame them, your colleagues were beautiful, witty, smiling brightly and exuding a sort of light that could only be rivaled by the sun. They were nice to everyone too, unlike you. 

You stayed and chatted for a bit. No one commented on your dress and certainly not the split at the side, and you tried not to let that get to you. This was a work event, after all, it would be inappropriate if they did come on to you or something. Your self-esteem whimpered quietly even so. 

It didn’t take long for the rest to get tipsy, and someone started blasting music somewhere, effectively switching from corporate mingling-mode to drunken tomfoolery-mode. You easily resisted getting dragged to the dancefloor, effecting a disinterested, above-it-all mask as your work friends pouted and dragged your arm in a petulant, though surprisingly endearing way. 

“I’m not debasing myself tonight, thank you very much,” you said, knowing it was harsh but only gaining a playfully scolding look before the whole gang bounced off to dance without you. 

You made your way over to the bar instead. A half-hour or so more and then you could safely leave without breaking any social codes, you thought with relief as you ordered another glass of champagne. 

Turning from the bar, glass in hand, you suddenly bumped into someone, champagne sloshing around the rim, a few drops spilling over your hand. 

“Hey, watch where-” you started, words dying in your mouth as you looked up…and up a broad chest, a thick neck and then came face to face with Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier himself. 

B-big, your brain supplemented eloquently as you stopped speaking all together. 

How was he so tall? Okay, so you knew he was tall, you’d encountered him regularly over the years and had always felt dwarfed by the tree-trunk size of the man, but you were in four inch heels, god damnit, and you still had to crane your neck to look into his eyes. They glinted as he looked down on you, and for a moment you forgot who you were supposed to be and nearly shrank in on yourself, feeling uncharacteristically small. 

“Sorry,” he simply said, giving you a once-over so quick you weren’t sure it’d happened at all, and then he leaned around you to grab a few napkins from the bar. He made quick work of taking the glass from your hand and wiping the stray drops of champagne from it, set it on the bar and then gently took your hand in his and wiped it as well. 

You could only stare in astonishment at the size of his hands, rough and calloused, but with neatly trimmed nails, engulfing yours and being so exquisitely gentle. He put the glass back in your hand and looked down at you with a pleased smile. 

You quickly amassed your indifferent mask, raising a haughty eyebrow at him, and stepped aside so he could order whatever he wanted. He’d at least apologized and cleaned up the mess he (and you together, admittedly) had caused. You supposed it was the best outcome, both for your pride and confidence. You didn’t step far from the bar, sure you would be back soon enough for another glass, and looked out on the burgeoning dance floor in front of you. 

“Why don’t you join?” a deep voice asked from the side. 

Looking over, Bucky had come up to stand at your side, looking out over the crowd as well, whiskey glass in hand. His strong profile was illuminated by the flashing lights of the dance floor, reflected in those baby blue eyes, and his hair was tucked back into a bun at the back of his head. His suit must have been tailored by sorcery or something, because it hugged him in all the right places, press neat and crisp, making him look both perfectly put together and indecently so.   

Okay, so maybe you had a little something of a crush on the guy. He was fine as hell, and always put this old school New York charm on you whenever you met. He was the only one who still tried to charm and flirt with you whenever he came to Fury’s office, and though you put on your unimpressed and uninterested mask, thoroughly shutting him down each time, you secretly appreciated those moments more than you would ever admit out loud. It felt nice that he at least treated you the same as all the other secretaries - he was the only one who still did. 

You raised your eyebrow, securing a bored look even as you wanted to ask with you?

“Not exactly my crowd,” you said instead, taking a swig at your drink. 

“No? Didn’t think you cared about things like that,” he said, smoothly challenging you. 

“Not exactly my music, then,” you said. Arrogance and low energy usually got people to leave you alone when you felt fragile. You turned to give him a fake, sarcastically apologetic smile. 

“Ah, I see. Too bad, would’ve loved to see how wide that split goes while you twirl,” he said, leaning closer to you, and in your shock the mask you’d held on so tight cracked, and you whipped to look at him. He’d noticed it?

You saw the pleased victory shining in his eyes. Cheeky bastard was trying to break you, trying to make you drop the haughty exterior, like he knew you were only putting up a front. And you’d let your mask slip and showed him he was right. And like you suspected he knew, it was the exact sort of thing you deeply, secretly craved someone to do. 

But it wouldn’t be that easy. Bucky could just be fucking with you, or making easy conversation. But he’d noticed the split in your dress, so he must’ve been looking, right? Just a little harder than everybody else. Still, it was out of the question to just drop every defense and wall you had now, in this room, just because of one comment from him. You quickly affected an unimpressed, almost fatigued mask, raising your glass to your lips. 

“Too bad, Barnes, I’ve already had my high school prom,” you said, delivering the line with just the perfect amount of arrogance and judgment. 

You felt his eyes lingering on your face for long moments as you stared into the crowd, refusing to meet his eyes and potentially let more slip. This shit was exhausting enough when people didn’t clock on to your farce. Still, a small part of you didn’t want him to stop looking, to stop showering you in this undivided attention that sizzled like carbonic bubbles on your skin. 

You immediately shut down your disappointment when he left without another word, telling yourself to be proud you didn’t beg or flirt or plead for his attention like everyone else did. You didn’t need anyone but yourself, you needed to remember that. 

The music shifted from some mainstream pop song to some very old jazz, and the sudden shift only had a second to register before Bucky appeared as from thin air, took your glass from you, downed the rest of your drink in one gulp (eyes shining with mischief as you gawked a little at him), ditched the glass on the nearby table and then promptly took you by the hands and hauled you out on the dance floor. 

“W-wait, I -” your words cut off to a little squeal as the soldier wrapped a strong arm around your waist and twirled you so your feet lifted off the ground, the skirt of your dress flying out. Your arms clung around his neck and shoulders as the world spun in a flurry of bright, flickering lights, and your feet didn’t touch the ground for ten solid seconds as Bucky turned and turned. 

When he eventually put you down, his arms didn’t let up much, keeping you firmly tucked to the hard planes of his stomach and chest with a hand that went around your back and held your waist on the other side. 

You schooled your expression down even as nerves and excitement and a fair share of actual, fucking excitement filled you from the unexpected dancing. You actually did like to dance a lot. You looked up and found Bucky’s eyes on your face, glimmering in the bright lights as he easily led you in some old timey couple’s dance that he apparently knew perfectly.

“This music more to your liking?” he asked, challenging and genuine at the same time, and you couldn’t for the life of you understand his angle. Why was he doing this? 

You knew people were watching, even as the dance floor was still full of other dancers making due with their modern dance moves to the old music. And though you did feel kinda nervous being so exposed, you couldn’t very well cut off this dance and leave - that would only make you look even more insecure than you felt.

So you soldiered through, putting on a mildly entertained, smug look and looking Bucky in the eyes. 

“It’s certainly something else,” you said, and watched as his eyes flared over with a sort of playful frustration, shaking his head a little at you, but smiling despite himself. 

“Drop the act, sweetheart,” he said then, low enough for no one else to hear, but it still made you bristle. 

“What act?” you said, making it sound nonchalant and innocent at the same time. “Just because you remember one dance from 70 years ago, I’m supposed to swoon?” you challenged, knowing the words were harsh but goddamnit, he was getting too close. 

A groan escaped him then, one you felt more than heard from the way your bodies were pressed together, and you flushed, not expecting that kind of response. 

He leaned down and murmured in your ear.

“I like it when you’re mean, but I’d like it more if you were honest,” he said, and your breath caught, the physical sensation of his hot breath on your ear distracting you to the point of stumbling a bit on your heels. His arm around your waist didn’t let you so much as twist an ankle, which made you feel even more heated. 

Before you could come up with a retort, Bucky flung you out in a twirl, making your skirt fly around you. He led you perfectly even as he almost threw you around like a ragdoll, and you had to admit you were amazed by how graceful you were even as every move and twist were orchestrated and led by Bucky. The crowd disappeared as you moved to the music, coming back to Bucky, being swung out again, your back to his front at one point, his breath hot on your neck, swinging out again and stepping past each other in swoops only connected by your hand in his. 

You met his eyes and saw the flash over with an intensity that made your skin prickle, with a hunger you could scarcely believe was meant for you, eyes raking over your body, lingering on the leg peaking out through the split in your skirt, your chest heaving in the low cut neckline of your dress, your face flushed and no doubt looking as amazed as you felt on the inside. 

The dance ended in a perfectly timed dip, Bucky holding you down and cradling your neck and the small of your back in capable arms, face so close you could feel his breath fan across your face, smelling of whiskey and spearmint. 

You smiled, couldn’t help it, you hadn’t had this much fun at a work event in years. Bucky’s eyes flitted about your face as he echoed your smile with a brilliant flash of teeth himself. Your heart thudded in your chest, and your eyes flicked down to his lips, those luscious, plump lips and oh holy fuck did you want to kiss him at that moment. A desperation you couldn’t quell seized you by your fucking guts and you positively throbbed. Your smile faltered, and you saw his fall too. Daring to look up into his eyes, you saw the same hunger reflected there, nearly engulfing you in its heat. 

Then the crowd returned, cheering, the music went back to some pop song from last year and reality dumped back in on your head so fast you almost made the mistake of scrambling out of Bucky’s hold. 

No, no, no, way too exposed, this was not how you planned this night…

You were actually proud of the way you managed to slowly extract yourself from Bucky’s arms, give a slow, bored “thank you,” and then calmly leave the room all together to escape to the ladies room. 

You had to admit, they hadn’t neglected the bathrooms in the compound, you thought as you occupied the space alone. They were kinda nice, big and spacious, marble and polished steel making the space comfortable and with an air of luxury compared to the practical, brutalist vibe of the rest of the building. 

You touched up on your lipstick, hands shaking a little from the excursion of the dancing. Okay, you needed to leave, you thought to yourself as you felt your skin still sizzling faintly wherever Bucky’s hands had touched you. Your nerves seemed newly awakened as if from a deep slumber, and it would not do to develop an even deeper crush on him. 

As if summoned, the door to the bathroom opened and Bucky stepped through, eyes finding yours in the mirror immediately. 

“I think you’re supposed to be in the next room over Barnes,” you drawled even as your heart picked up speed. 

He didn’t answer as he slowly crossed the room. 

You couldn’t help shifting in your skin as your body thrummed with an exhausting amount of nervous excitement. His gaze was level,possessing your attention like an iron grip. It was like he saw right through every mask and facade you tried to put on, right in to the very center, the very truth inside you. It lulled you and provoked you at the same time. 

“You’re in the wrong restroom, Barnes,” you said, even harsher, when he was about halfway across to you. He still didn’t answer. 

You spun to face him, anger welling higher. Who did he think he was, coming in here and stripping away the only scraps of protection you had, looking at you like he could read the thoughts as they appeared in your mind?

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he answered as you glared at him, coming to stop directly in front of you, only inches between you, and the air there sparked with energy you just couldn’t deny you were affected by. 

You scoffed, fighting against the crumbling of your exterior. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you wanted him. Couldn’t deny it, couldn’t help yourself as your muscles ached to reach for him, to press yourself against him and let him wrap his strong, safe arms around you again. To tuck yourself away into him and shut your mind off and just feel taken care of - in any way - by someone other than yourself.

A desperate thought occurred to you; maybe you could do this without losing face. If you went on the offensive, you could still hold control over the situation while still letting whatever was sizzling between you and Bucky explode, you thought a bit desperately as you held his stare, his eyes darkening as the seconds ticked by. Maybe you didn’t have to bare your soul for him in order to get a taste of what you wanted. You could just make it out to be a hookup at a party, something carnal but detached. Give your body to him while still guarding your mind and soul. 

Not giving yourself a moment more to stall, you surged forward, grabbed his neck and kissed him. He wasn’t as surprised as you’d liked by your sudden call to action. In fact, he seemed to come unleashed the moment your lips met his, a grunt sounding in his throat as he instantly wrapped one arm around your waist, his other going into your hair to keep your head firmly put where he wanted it. 

Yes

The kiss was filthy, hot breaths and open mouths and tongue on tongue almost immediately, like a dam of pent up lust had just erupted at that first touch for the both of you. He pushed you back so the marble counter dug into your ass, and plastered himself against you, groaning as your hands moved to map out his back. 

You fumbled to reach for the lapels on his jacket and he let up his hold just long enough for you to wrench his suit jacket off him before both pair of hands went on frantically groping and gripping and touching, and you couldn’t seem to draw breath into your aching lungs for all the burning desire that flooded your body. 

Bucky broke out of your heady kiss, gasping as he leaned his forehead to yours, hands gripping your hip and the back of your neck so tight it almost pinched you, and you relished the feeling. 

“Fuck,” he groaned between pants, and you liked the sound of that very much. 

You gave him a sultry and cocky “mhm” as you kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip. When you opened your eyes again, he was still looking at you, his stare so fucking intense. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and that…was stepping into a territory you were not too keen on. You couldn’t have sentimentality at that moment. You couldn’t control your tiny wince either, trying to move on with another kiss, your hands dragging down the hard planes of his chest to entice him to move along. 

Bucky didn’t grant you that mercy. He apparently saw your wince as well as he saw the split in your skirt, and scrutinized you with a piercing stare as he reiterated between kisses. 

“So gorgeous,” he murmured and you tried your damndest to ignore it, kissing him more intently, hands moving a bit desperately to his belt, but an uncomfortable laughter escaped you either way. 

Bucky stopped your hands, grabbing them and putting them on the counter at your side before cradling your face firmly in his hands. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is he doing, you lamented as you looked everywhere but his eyes. 

“I mean it, you’re a gorgeous woman,” he said and you whined softly, not at all capable of hearing that. Whether out of a misguided sense of pity or because he wanted to get in your panties, you didn’t want him to tell you that shit just to placate you. You were already dying to get fucked, false flattery was of no need. You were practically soaking your panties already just from his kisses and his hands, one warm and one slightly colder, moving over your body like he couldn’t get to all of it quick enough.

“You don’t have to-” you started exasperated, squirming to get away from the intimacy of his proximity, the way he looked at you and the way he was cradling your face. 

“You see, this is what I mean. I think you’re hiding, doll. You don’t realise how fucking amazing you are, and you hide it behind a bitchy face and even bitchier words,” he said.

Words failed you then. The fucking audacity of this man to call you out like that. You were not prepared to be laid out like that, and you didn’t know whether to fight back with teeth and claws or to flee in your humiliation. 

Bucky must have seen your warring thoughts on your face, the simmering rage at being cornered and confronted like this, like an animal frantic with self preservation. 

“You don’t believe me?” he asked, and you could see a fierce competitive glint light on fire in his eyes, pouncing on the challenge.

In a flash, he’d turned you around and you met your own expression in the mirror above the sink. Bucky stepped flush against you again, and nestled the hard bulge in his pants right against your ass. You squirmed and whined a little. You wanted that inside you already. But Bucky held you tightly pinned between himself and the counter, his metal hand coming around to splay on your stomach, shining metal against the black silk fabric, effectively giving you no room to move. His hand was so huge, it covered nearly the whole area between your belly button and the underside of your heaving breasts. He propped his chin on your shoulder and captured your eyes through the reflection in the mirror. 

“You’re exquisite, doll” he whispered, his other hand landing lightly on your waist. This time you saw your own wince of disbelief in the mirror, instantly embarrassed at how revealing you were. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, both from his words and the way his eyes were just eating your body up in the mirror. 

“I’m nothing special,” you heard yourself murmur. 

“Oh, on the contrary, doll, you’re as rare as they come,” Bucky said, flesh hand moving to grab your hips appreciatively. “Swinging these hips all around the compound, your walk so sweet compared to that barking mouth you’ve got on ya,” he said, drawled a bit, his Brooklyn accent coming forth, kneading your hips and pulling you back to grind your ass on his hard bulge. 

Your breath hitched on a gasp, and your heart fluttered in your chest. He’d been watching the way you walked? And he liked it?

His hands came up to cup one of your heaving breasts. 

“Such elegant lines, perfect, round tits,” he murmured into the skin below your ears, and you trembled in his arms as his fingers teased a nipple through the thin fabric of your dress. 

“A neck that’s just begging to be sucked on and marked,” he continued before his lips sealed itself to that sensitive spot right below the hinge of your jaw and you gasped raggedly as sparks flew through your body. 

You were positively high on the novelty of his praise, but you just couldn’t quite believe it. 

“I’ve…a-always just thought I was so average,” you admitted, voice timid, nothing short of a whisper, and you berated yourself for revealing your insecurity so openly, even as Bucky’s lips let go of your skin and he nuzzled the hair behind your ear. 

“God, no,” he sighed, hand coming down to your hip again, guiding you to grind back on his bulge again, and fuck, he was hard, “I don’t get how you could even think that,” he said, and the genuine astonishment in his voice had to be real, or else he was a brilliant fucking actor. 

Your hips had started moving on their own now, steadily grinding between his metal hand on your stomach and the hard cock at your ass, sizzling sparks of heat traveling your body from the friction. You could feel Bucky nodding into the crook of your neck, encouraging and praising at the same time. 

“But I’m…kinda tall…surely y-you’d want someone shorter, m-more petite?” you heard yourself whisper, and you just had to ask him right out, to give voice to those incessant, nagging insecurities. 

He actually laughed then, a breathy chuckle against the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Are you kidding? You nearly gave me a heart attack in these heels tonight, baby,” he said easily, calm and honest and straightforward and it was like he wasn't even trying to convince you of anything, he was just speaking honestly. “And when you danced with me? How sexy and smooth and fucking alive you were as you let me spin you? Couldn’t take my fucking eyes of you, fuck, I haven’t been this hard in ages. Plus, you’re just perfect for me to fuck like this. Can’t you feel how perfectly your ass fits against my cock when you grind like that, huh? Can’t have that with a shorter girl, you were made for me, darling,” he said, breath growing puffy and you were almost shaking, both from his words and the blazing fucking heat they stoked.

A needy, whimpering sort of whine escaped you at that. It was perfect, your height to his. Perfect for you to nudge your ass against his pelvis and feel his hot lips and a sliver of tongue on the heated skin of your neck at the same time. 

“Do you believe me, now, sweetheart? Or do you need me to fuck it into you?” he asked then, a teasing lilt to his voice even as it dropped a fucking octave, rumbling over you skin, making you ache. 

You turned your head to graze your lips against his, recognising when he was posing a challenge by now, when his competitive side came out to play. You waited just a few seconds, letting your mingling, ragged breaths fill the silence, before answering, looking him straight in his eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” you whispered against his mouth. 

His reaction was almost instant. His metal hand came up to cradle your throat, pinning you close to him as his flesh hand had the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips in a split second. His hand was between your legs in the next second, brazen and possessive and you fucking loved it, knees nearly buckling in your stilettos as his warm flesh palm cupped you there. A filthy groan sounded in your ear. 

“Fucking perfect pussy already soaked for me, huh?” he downright growled, fingers moving up and down your clothed slit, feeling just how wet you were through the flimsy fabric of your lace panties. “This pussy aching, huh? Hasn’t been fucked right in ages, I reckon? Some bastard left you feeling like less than just perfect?” he babbled as he began rubbing tight circles on your clit, making you keen at both his words and ministrations, mind floating up to the fucking skies on a cloud of endorphins and arousal. “You give me their names, honey, and I’ll make sure they never bother you again,” he said, dark intentions in an even darker, gruffer voice and you couldn’t stand still for the way you needed him. 

“Fuuuck, please, Bucky,” you whined, grinding your pussy down on his hand, soaking his fingers. 

“That’s right, baby, you take what you deserve, you take what this perfect body deserves,” he encouraged. 

“I need…I need,” you breathed, eyes closing as you rode the sensation of being touched like this, so expertly, too much one second and not enough the next. 

“What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he groaned into the skin of your neck. 

“I need…your…please, your cock,” you whimpered. 

His hands pulled back and gave your pussy a playful little slap, making you jolt and yelp in his arms, and the slight sting felt so fucking good. 

“That’s right,” he said, giving you a few precious seconds to collect your frayed, jumbled, melting mind as he frantically undid his belt and fly, pulling his cock out and pulling your soiled panties to the side to notch his cock at your weeping hole. 

He didn’t give you anymore time to beg before he pushed his hips forward and you both gasped raggedly as his cock slid in, perfectly to the hilt, your pussy sucking him in like it had a mind of its own. His whole frame, massive and rugged as it was, shuddered as he stood there with his cock buried inside you, and you opened your eyes to watch in astonished fascination through the reflection in the mirror as he took a moment to get a hold of himself. One hand flexed its grip around your throat, the other on your hip, grip so tight and you hoped it would leave bruises. 

He didn’t wait long until he started thrusting, pulling out almost completely before thrusting in again, forgoing any buildup and going straight to the main fucking course and you were so ridiculously relieved he wasn’t teasing you anymore. 

His hands let go of you and you fell forward, draping yourself over the counter so you could just feel the way his cock, thick and ridged and so fucking hard, dragged against your walls, yielding nothing as he speared you. 

“Need to see you,” Bucky breathed between pants as he kept fucking you. 

You felt the bodice of your dress loosen and realized he had undone the zipper at the back of your dress, peeling it off your arms and then hauling you the meat of your shoulder to straighten against him again, completely naked from the waist up. 

His hands were on your exposed skin immediately, mapping out your ribcage, squeezing the pouch beneath your belly button and coming up to knead your breasts, pulling on your nipples. He was like a man starved, all the while his cock was steadily pumping into you, pushing you higher and higher, the sounds from where you were joined filtering in through your haze of lust and pleasure like a sinful symphony. 

You opened your eyes to find his in your reflection, pools of incendiary desire following every minute twitch of your face. Your eyes flicked over your own face and saw the crimson flush, the sweat on your brow, hair ruffled, the scrunched up expression and heavy-lidded, drugged eyes. You looked a downright, embarrassing mess, your deepest pleasure so plainly written on your face, exposing you to the point of pain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to lean back to hide in the crook of his neck. 

Bucky did not let you. 

“Oh no, no, no, don’t hide from me now, sugar,” he said, one hand coming up to pull your face forward, “look at me,” he ordered and you opened your eyes to his again. 

“See how exquisite you are?” he asked, hips slapping against your ass. “See how beautiful you look, taking my cock?” he asked, watching you watch him in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” he ordered, and you whimpered as you met your own gaze in the mirror again. 

There was an almost lascivious tilt to his voice as he kissed your neck sloppily and murmured. 

“Tell her she looks beautiful,” he said. 

You thrashed as much as you could in your pinned position, the counter digging into your hips, high heeled shoes barely touching the floor. 

“Bucky,” you whined petulantly. There was no way. 

“Say it, darling,” he warned before his hips slowed down to an almost complete stop, and that only made you thrash harder. “Oh, you want to come baby? Then look at yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’m beautiful,” he said, and you gawked at him in disbelief, humiliation and mortification burning hot on your cheeks. 

The hand not holding your face towards the mirror kept exploring your flesh as he waited, pinching and grabbing everywhere like he just couldn’t stop. You looked at yourself in the mirror, took in the simmering fire in your eyes, your lips with its bright red lipstick smeared all over. 

“Come on, darling, don’t you want to come? Won’t you let me make you come?” Bucky asked, spreading kisses down your neck as his eyes burned into your face through the mirror. 

You fought it for as long as you could, didn’t want to play these games, didn’t want to see your own vulnerability on your face as you said something you should believe but didn’t quite. 

Bucky grinded his hips all the way inside you and then stilled completely and your need won. 

“I’m beautiful,” you whispered, breath hitching as you saw the disbelief, the resistance in your own eyes, hating yourself both for saying it and not believing it. 

Bucky groaned in a resolutely pleased manner and started moving his hips again, languidly stroking in and out of your sopping cunt. 

“Again,” came his growled order from behind. 

Your resilience was weaker this time, with the tip of his cock reaching so deep, adding rhythmic pressure to that elusive spot in the deepest nook of your body that had your knees going wobbly. 

“I’m beautiful,” you said again, this time giving a low, timid voice to the words. 

Bucky groaned behind you, hands gripping you tighter as his hips picked up speed. 

“That’s right. Say ‘I’m gorgeous’.”

“I-I’m gorgeous.”

“Say ‘I deserve this’”

“I d-d - oh fuck - I deserve this - ah -”

“Say ‘I’m making Bucky Barnes crazy on a daily basis and I don’t even care enough to acknowledge it,” Bucky husked behind you. 

That made you actually giggle, though it came out more like a stuttering whine.

“I-I didn’t know,” you moaned, breaking your own eye contact in the mirror to look at his face. You honestly didn’t. Sure, you’d established a playful banter over the years, frequently sparking conversation whenever he was at your desk for something concerning Fury or you met in the halls or right after department meetings. But you’d honestly never considered you, just being you, could be driving a man like him crazy. 

Eyes dark as the ocean burned into yours from where his face was propped on your shoulder, mouth nibbling on the side of your neck and your earlobe as his hips kept up a punishing pace. It was becoming hard to string together coherent thoughts, your mind going hazy from the steady punch of his cock. 

He smiled against your skin, nipping it so hard you squealed a little, head swimming from the mix of pain and pleasure. 

“You’re killing me here, doll,” Bucky murmured playfully against your skin, hands moving again, skimming over your skin and kneading your flesh in such an appreciative way it had you blushing, even as you were steadily pounded by his cock, halfnaked in the bathroom at your workplace during a fucking Christmas party. 

It was all a haze, the way you were hurtling towards the precipice of your orgasm, his cock in your pussy, his hot breath on your neck, his hands roaming your body like a starved beast. The smell of his rich, musky cedar cologne and the hint of fresh, male sweat. And his eyes, devouring everything his hands didn’t touch. 

“I-I’m gonna…fuck, Bucky -” you stammered. You were so close. 

“I got you,” Bucky answered breathlessly, his flesh hand moving down between your legs to stroke your clit in fast, tight circles. 

You keened, vision blurring as your muscles seized, teetering on the edge. You faintly registered your own expression in the mirror in front of you, mouth falling open, eyebrows scrunching and a crimson flush high on your cheeks. 

You heard Bucky groaning behind you and trembled at the sound. 

“Fuck, there you go, baby, fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking - tight, god damn -”

And then Bucky was wrenching your face to the side and kissing you. And maybe it was the way his hips stuttered as you moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was the possessiveness with which he pushed his tongue into yours. Maybe it was the way his metal hand gripped you tighter as you started shaking, or maybe it was the sheer desperation in his kiss as he herded you over the edge that truly made you feel beautiful in that moment. Beautiful and blissed out as you spasmed on his cock, hearing his choked grunt as you pulled his orgasm right out of him.

You felt him throb in turn with you, his cum pooling hot deep inside you, the both of you nearly falling off your damn feet as you came together, the kiss disintegrating to a mere sloppy tangle of breaths and tongues.  

As you slowly came down from your high, your mind started whirring. Halfway preparing for Bucky to pull out and leave swiftly. To maybe give you a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, to push the skirt of your dress down over your ass and then make his exit from this very public bathroom. It wasn’t that you thought Bucky was some kind of sleaze, but it would be okay if he left it at that. You were a big girl, you knew people got carried away during a rowdy fuck, and if he left it at this, you would be fine. You told yourself as much, at least…

But Bucky didn’t leave. He didn’t pull out right away, either. Once you could both catch your breath, he reiterated his kiss, slow and thorough and breathtaking all anew. His metal hand firmly secured your face to meet his and his flesh hand gave your clit a few more gentle swirls, and you could feel his smile, fascinated and playful against your mouth as you jolted at the sensation. Whimpering a little at the overstimulation but keeping yourself completely still for it anyway, you were astonished by how sensitive you were and how fucking good it felt to have Bucky teasingly play with you as you basked in the afterglow. 

You squeezed around his cock still lodged inside you, and he gave a little grunt in response. 

“Careful, sugar, or I might get hard again,” he murmured against our lips, rolling his hips gently into your ass. 

“Is…is that supposed to deter me?” you asked, your snarky tone just a little undermined by the way you gasped. 

He groaned at that, low and pleased. 

“I suppose it should…at least until I can get you out of this fucking bathroom and into a bed,” he murmured, and a surge of adrenaline went through you. He wanted to do this again?

A small thought in the back of your mind wondered how it was possible that no one had come in and interrupted you by now, but it was quickly pushed away as Bucky gently pulled himself out of you. You tried to conceal the shiver of arousal that went through you as you felt his cum leak out of you and down the inside of your thighs. 

“Stay like that,” he whispered, removing himself and the fucking furnace of warmth that had been plastered to your back. The cold air hitting your back made you realize just how naked and exposed you were, your dress a scrunched up tangle low on your waist. 

You didn’t have time to become self-conscious though, before Bucky was back, kneeling behind you. Peaking over your shoulder, you were just in time to see him wipe a damp hand towel up your thigh and gently across the puffy, sensitive mess between your legs. You flushed for an entirely new reason now. It was just so…intimate, and sweet and generous and you struggled to handle the care and tenderness with which Bucky thoroughly cleaned both his mess and yours. 

You watched him quietly as he cleaned you up, and then as he seemingly couldn’t help himself from bending forward and kissing your pussy, tongue darting out to swipe a small lick to your still sensitive clit. You yelped, hips bucking away. 

He shushed you gently and kissed your ass cheek soothingly, fitting the admittedly soggy fabric of your panties back over your pussy before getting on his feet again. With gentle hands, he turned you around, and your eyes went wide as you looked down to see his cock still hanging out of his fly, already back to full hardness. 

Bucky followed your shocked expression down and chuckled. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, hands still cradling your shoulders, moving up to knead the muscle between your shoulders and neck, and you hummed in pleasure, eyes falling close. 

“Does that always happen?” you asked, feeling the soreness in the muscles ease up under Bucky’s dexterous fingers. 

“No,” he answered simply, and you could tell by his tone that it meant something. That it lent itself to everything he’d said about you and the supposed attractiveness you held to him. You kept your eyes closed and bit your lips to keep from smiling too broadly at that. 

Feeling emboldened, you reached for him, hands finding his clothed chest and stroking down until you reached his cock, wrapping a tentative fist around its stiff heat. 

You heard Bucky suck in a breath, and then his hand wrapped around yours, holding it tight as he thrust his hips lightly a few times, pumping his cock gently through your fist. You were ready to go again by the time he gently pried your hand away and groaned like he was being gently tortured. 

You couldn’t help your pout, opening your eyes to find him gazing at your face. 

“I want to take care of you, too,” you complained, and the gentle whine of your tone sounded so small and decidedly submissive, certainly not fitting the badass work persona you’d built. It just suddenly felt so safe to be a bit whiny with him. 

Bucky only stepped closer and cradled your face in his hands. 

“I’ll let you take care of me later, sweet thing, to your heart’s content. For now, tuck me back in and we can get outta here,” he drawled, Brooklyn accent soothing his tone and lulling you to comply, pacified by his promise to let you take care of him soon. 

You did as he said, tucking his hard cock back into his pants and doing up his fly and belt as he watched your face intently, no doubt seeing the way your eyes grew hazy, your breath labored and your face flushing all anew at the way he held you while you handled him. You let your hands linger over his bulge when you were done, dying to take him out again and just do whatever he wanted to make him feel good. 

Soon, you told yourself, soon. 

“Now, I would like to swing you one last time on that dance floor out there, let everyone see that gorgeous leg through that deadly split in your skirt. And then I want everyone to see you leave on my arm, before I take you back to mine and take care of you properly,” Bucky said, voice even and sure and smile so dashing, you couldn’t help but smile back and nod in enthusiastic agreement. 

[dami-is-delusional]

Fighting or Flirting?: A Series of Confusing Events (seriously. someone stop them.) - Steve Rogers x ExHydra!Male!Reader

Summary: You used to be an experiment, curated by Hydra to be a living weapon. Somewhere along the line, SHIELD saved you and decided to place you with the Avengers. As the superficial leader, Steve Rogers tried his best to welcome you. Somehow it all went downhill from there... until it didn't!

(enemies to lovers, might not be the most accurate Steve, my second fic ever so i apologize in advance.)

PART TWO: Meeting the Avengers (and your downfall... jk it's just your future bf!)

If someone were to see your expression on the car ride to the Avengers tower, they would've assumed someone had just killed your puppy. But nope, you were simply upset that you had to join the team of heroes. Were you even going to get paid for this? Probably not. You sighed, the agent who was driving paid no mind. Now, one might be questioning why you were so against joining the Avengers. If it were anyone else, they probably would've been absolutely thrilled! Who wouldn't want to be in the same space as the heroes of New York? You. That's who.

It wasn't like you had anything against them. No, quite the opposite. You admired their heroism and their desire to keep people safe. You found it noble and extremely cool. It was like something out of your comic books. The real problem was the fact that you would have to work with them. As in teamwork. As in talking to them. As in socializing and having to hold conversations.

Due to your experience at HYDRA, you knew how to do many things. Like how to intimidate and interrogate people into giving you information. How to sneak around buildings without making a sound. How to end someone's life in 74 different ways. You know, the basics! What you didn't know how to do was how to interact with other human beings. Making conversation past a basic introduction? Not your thing! Turns out that being isolated from humanity for a good portion of your life doesn't exactly do wonders for your social life. When SHIELD took you in, you were perfectly content with going on solo missions where you only had yourself to depend on. That's what most of your life has been like anyways. It wasn't anything new. You went from one set routine at HYDRA to another set routine at SHIELD, both in which you were by yourself.

Now, you were being added to a team of people who already knew each other pretty well. You would be an outsider who didn't even know how to knock on the door. You didn't know how people behaved around each other. You didn't know how to get closer to people. You had very low hopes on surviving this. You sighed once more and the agent driver ignored you and your brooding once more as well.

The tall and imposing Avengers tower stood like a mean taunt. Poor little Y/N is going to have to function like a normal human being! Let's hope they don't secretly hate you! You looked up at it and grimaced. It almost felt like the building was making fun of you and already predicting your inevitable doom.

"Maybe doom is a bit much. Oh, who am I kidding? If I'm lucky, the building will explode and I won't have to talk to anyone," you thought hopefully. You looked at the tower for a couple more seconds. No explosion. You sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Before you could decide to run away to India, you stepped into the building.

The elevator ride up to the floor you were told to go to was nerve wracking. Questions and doubts swirled inside your mind like a snowstorm trying to keep you frozen where you stood.

“What if I can't do my job properly? What if I can’t figure out how a team works? What if I trip when I step out of the elevator and that’s all they think about?” Luckily (and unluckily) for you, your thoughts were brought to a stop when the doors of the elevator opened. Taking a deep breath and giving yourself speedrun mini pep talks in your mind, you took your first step as an Avenger.

CRASH.

Several people stumbled over to the elevator and tried their hardest (and failed miserably) to look normal and stoic. Clint Barton and Tony Stark seemed to have toppled over each other in an attempt to be first. Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner approached in a much more orderly fashion, the former looking as though she was going to whack the first duo. Finally, the poster boy of all of America. Steve Rogers. How could someone look like a Greek statue and a golden retriver?

“So these are the Avengers… at least I didn’t trip!” you thought, feeling the most joy you could muster up from this day.

The owner of the building and the man who could probably buy your entire life with one phone call started to speak first.

"So you're the new member that Eye-Patch was telling us about! Welcome to my- our tower," Tony said in greeting, correcting himself after a sharp nudge from Natasha. You knew both Natasha and Clint since they were also SHIELD agents like yourself. You hoped that they could help you out so that you didn't actually have to talk to someone entirely knew about it.

"Yeah, I'm Y/N L/N," you answered simply. You were already off to an awkward start as you stood there, unsure of what to say. You had expected this, of course, but it felt ten times more unbearable in real life.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Steve Rogers, welcome to the team," came a kind and gentle voice.

You looked over at the source and saw Captain America himself, smiling politely. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn't want to lie and say you were happy to be here.

"Shit, should I smile back? Do I say thank you? Oh wait, a thank you sounds right..."

Hoping no one took note of your obvious silent panic and hesitance, you cleared your throat, "Uh, thank you. I hope... we can get along...?" you weren't sure if you were actually replying or asking a question. At this point, you were just relieved that you managed to say something at all.

To your surprise, the recently defrosted Super Soldier just continued smiling. It was beginning to creep you out. "I'm sure we all will. We're excited to have someone new! You should join us for lunch, Stark is taking us to some shawarma place," Steve offered, his golden boy smile seemingly glowing and radiating with his optimism.

The idea of being thrown into a group social setting right off the bat made you want to jump out of a window. You prayed to some divine being that your face didn't automatically react and show your distaste to such a plan.

"I'm okay, thank you. I'm just gonna... find my room and settle down... and stuff," Lord, you wanted to shoot yourself because of how stupid you probably sounded to them. You saw the slightest falter in Wonder Boy's face but it was gone the next milisecond.

"That's alright! You do that. We can all get together another time," he suggested. You just sort of laughed awkwardly and walked past them with your bags. You wanted nothing more than to hide in a hole and never come out.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y is gonna help you find your room!" Tony called out as the group walked over to the elevator. You turned back slightly to nod in acknowledgement, even though you had no idea who the hell 'Friday' was. As you did, you noticed that Steve was staring at you oddly. He immediately looked away when you caught him. Weird... but who were you to judge?

The elevator door closed and you let out a shaky sigh. How long would you have to repeat the tedious and torturous act of making conversation? You picked up your bags, ready to crash into a bed.

Now for future references, if anyone asked you if you screamed louder than a tornado warning siren when a disembodied, robotic voice began talking, you will deny it with your whole body and soul.

So that's who F.R.I.D.A.Y is...

A/N: This totally did not take almost a full month to make, no you're just being crazy. I don't procrastinate EVER.

Side note, I don't know why I put this off for so long. I will try my best to be a tad bit more consistent in the future.

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Notes: I just graduated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOORAAAAYYY! I'm finally FREE NOW TO WRITE AS MUCH GOBBLEDUPFANFICSASIWANT AND IM SO HAPPY! SIHV is no longer under hiatus ;ppppp (not proofread properly as i was so excited to update everyone on this story hahahahdsjs)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Doctor’s Steady Hands

“Is it this one?”

I unhook my head from beneath a curved plane of metal, wiping the machine oil from my face with my sleeve. I examine the mishap of tools in Bepo’s paws, scrambling to keep them all hooked between his claws.

“Uh, yeah, that one,” I say, nodding at the screwdriver with the yellow handle. Bepo carefully flexes his cushioned paw to pluck one out from the other, then proceeds to stuff the rest of the tools – and the equipment box, mind you, in the front pocket of his overalls. 

Swiftly, I disappear under the side of what used to be Law’s beloved ship and begin to assess the damage. A soft curse comes out of my mouth, incredulously asking myself how Luffy could have damaged this beautiful piece so badly.

Sighing, I begin dismantling damaged parts with a hard-set scowl indented on my face – a scowl I haven’t been able to get of rid for about a week now. Gramps always used to tease me for being so transparent with my feelings, how I’d always wear my heart on my sleeve – and even thinking back on that memory doesn’t help with sobering up my mood, either.

I sneak a look at Bepo who’s looking incredibly out of place at the makeshift workshop we’ve made for ourselves. He looks down, staring down at his paws with a frown set on his face – almost as if he wants to ask me something but doesn’t know when the right time would be. Guilt pangs in my chest, knowing that Bepo doesn’t know what to do with how I am right now. It’s a pretty big personality shock to him, seeing how much I’ve changed compared from when I was a happy-go-lucky kid; a young tweenager with hope in her eyes, now turned young adult with angry fine lines peppered into her skin. It must have broken whatever pretence he had of me in his head. 

Regardless, he still showed up today. Hell, he even offered to be my little work assistant, completely aware of my recent bad temper - still willing to be there for me. It doesn’t help matters that I’m unhelpfully being gossiped about by Usopp to physically anyone he could talk to.

‘I don’t know, I’m kinda worried, ya know?’ Usopp mutters not-too-secretively in the bullseye centre of our temporary camp. ‘Ever since Zoro stormed out of that weird lake magic, they’ve both been acting off…’

‘And not to mention, ever since she turned into that scary Luffy form, she’s been so different,’ Usopp urges. ‘I don’t know if we can trust her from exploding into that-that… THING again. WAAA, I’M SCARED!’

Nami slaps him on the back of his neck, the sound ricocheting against the jagged stalactite ceiling as she eyes him down, anger in her eyes. ‘Oh, shut up, will you? Raya’s still Raya, and she’s one of us. Get that into that thick skull of yours.’

“Yo, Raya!” Franky’s voice echoes from a few miles ahead of me. His large body is somehow perfectly cramped beneath the belly of the Polar Tang, his fists slamming into the metal simultaneously as his head twists 180 degrees towards me. “We’re finally working together, huh? I can’t lie to you; it’s making me feel hella excited!”

I don’t know how he managed to do it, but a surprised laugh breaks out from my mouth; I didn’t know I meant so much to him, it almost makes me feel bad for not working with him sooner.

“Me too,” I say whilst my hands get busy removing each screw from the disfigured plane of metal. “I’m sorry we haven’t done this sooner, Frank.”

He rolls his eyes at me and bats a mechanical hand with a grease cloth clamped over it. “Are ya kidding me? You’ve been through hell and back, Raya. Take it easy. I’ve got an insane number of blueprints to work with you soon.”

I shake my head, turning back onto my partition of the work. He’s too forgiving, sometimes. Too carefree… I wish I was like that.

“Did I just imagine things?” A cool voice reverberates behind Bepo and I. “Did Raya’s face finally do something other than scowl?”

I twist my head so fast I hit my head against the ship, scowling at the figure who made me jump about eighty feet out of my own skin. Law looks down at me with a sly smile twitching at the ends of his mouth, his tattooed arms folded together against his chest.

“No, there it is again,” he continues. “That scowl. I must’ve imagined things.”

“C’mon Law, don’t tease her.” Bepo sighs.

Law turns to stare at his first mate, his mouth slightly ajar. He quickly closes it again, noticing I’ve been smirking at him like a kid who just got some well-deserved payback. “Well, you’ve never ordered me around before.”

I furiously rub at the sore spot on my head, still giving him a shit-eating grin, before my eyes lower to his clothes. Blue work overalls overlay a white shirt on his torso, a huge pocket resting at his belly. I raise a brow, not expecting anyone besides Franky and Bepo to be working with me today.

“Did I mess the memo? I didn’t know we were roleplaying as mechanics today.” My lips twitch into a faint smirk, making Law dismissively scowl at me.

“Well, I prefer to be around my possessions from now on. Since, you know, the last time I trusted you with one, you’d engaged with some more… interesting excursions,” he snaps.

That made me shut right up. I turn around and get busy, ignoring the heat growing on my face.

Bepo eyes the both of us with suspicion. “What? What was that supposed to mean? Law?”

Before Law can wave him off, another voice enters the workshop cavern with a tinge of irritation laced in his words.

“Oi, Trafalgar. Where you want me to put these?”

My heart instantly stops from hearing that cursed voice. I can just tell by his footsteps that they’re his. Fuck.

I don’t look around, pretend to be all cool and nonchalant while I’m actually screaming inside, but no one can excuse the fumbling my fingers are doing, my hand unable to unscrew a section I easily did a few moments ago.

Law faintly turns his head and side-eyes the samurai with a raised brow. “Why are you shouting, Roronoa? We can hear you just fine.”

I breathe in shallowly, feeling a minute sense of fear from his presence. My eyes train on the plane of metal above me, not daring to look in his direction.

‘You don’t scare me, Kozuki.’

You don’t scare me, Kozuki. It rings in my head constantly, even when my eyes grow heavy, my mind startled awake, in one of the dragon’s sleeping holes.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki. But you should be scared of me. I grit my teeth, jaw clenching then unclenching. That’s what he meant, right? He’s threatening me.

“You roped me into bein’ your work slave, this is what you’ll get,’ Zoro retorts, his eye piercing Law’s. Law only smirks in response and rests his frame against his tattered ship.

“No brain, only brawn. I’m not surprised,” Law smoothly bites back. I choke out a laugh, yet immediately shut up when I see Zoro’s eye drink in my crouched frame.

I quickly get back to work, my fingers deftly peeling off the unscrewed plane of metal. There’s an odd silence between all three of them, and I can just tell that Zoro’s still pinned his lion-like gaze on me.

“Are you just going to stare with your mouth wide open,” Law remarks, his feet suspiciously stationing themselves over my crouched body. “Or are you going pass those boxes to Frank?”

I hear Zoro bristle, seeming to be taken off guard. "You’re making things up," he grumbles, though the fluster in his voice betrays him. He finally shifts his gaze from me and turns his attention to the boxes at his feet, nudging one of them with his boot.

"Could've fooled me," Law replies, the smirk never leaving his face. There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watches Zoro struggle to find a retort.

Zoro’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to snap back with something sharp. But instead, he just exhales heavily through his nose and lifts one of the boxes as if it's nothing. "Whatever. You could’ve picked someone else for this," he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

As he starts walking towards Franky, I can't help but glance at him from the corner of my eye. There’s something different in the way he carries himself today, an edge to his movements that makes my heart pound just a bit faster. It’s not fear—not exactly. It's something else, something furiously too intimate to be just anger.

"Don't drop those, Roronoa. We don’t have spares," Law continues to mock, earning another jaw-tick from Zoro.

As his shadow becomes more and more smaller, I finally let out the strained breath I’ve been holding, my hands a little steadier now. But, still, the weight of his presence lingers, those same tan muscles my hands stroked over being a mere few steps away makes it harder to concentrate.

"Well, this is cozy," Law says, his voice low as he crouches down closely, his eyes flickering with mischief. "Maybe we should do this more often."

I shoot him a look, trying to suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. I skid the plane of damaged metal across the rocky floor, thrusting it with enough force to hit it against his thick-soled boot. "Don’t push it, Trafalgar," I mutter, though the corners of my mouth betray my nonchalance.

In all of a sudden, Bepo crouches next to Trafalgar and imploringly looks at me. “Look… Raya. Can we please talk?” He whispers, his eyes nervously shifting towards Franky’s direction to make sure he’s not paying attention. His gaze flickers over to Zoro, who finds purchase on a rocky crevice right in the centre of the workshop, his arms folding to his chest tensely, tanned muscle flexing. I watch him intently, realising that he looks to be asleep - almost as if he’s taken the perfect chance to doze off. A bit too much of a perfect chance, in my opinion.

I sigh, rubbing the raggedy cloth against my oil-stained cheek as I look away. I knew it, of course, that this conversation was inevitable. Bepo, knowing the entire truth – and Law, in direct extension – were both biding their time to gauge me out for more information.

I hand Bepo the screwdriver, silently gesturing for the small wrench that prods out of his belly-pocket. Impatiently, Law quickly picks it out and deposits it in my hand before Bepo even realises what’s happening.

I don’t know what comes over me but when I look, and really look at my childhood friend’s desperate eyes, I soften my tone.

“Of course, we can,” I mumble, my eyes lowering, avoiding his deeply troubled gaze.

“Keep working,” Law mutters lowly. His eyes train on Franky who once in a while looks over to compare his progress with mine. Zoro’s eyes are still closed, his breathing paced, but there’s still something suspicious about the way he’s holding himself too tensely for my liking.

I turn my head to the millions of nuts and bolts I’ll have to begin laboriously undoing, sighing inwardly. I love workmanship, but man, sometimes it can be boring.

“Keep talking, Bepo,” Law continues.

Bepo fiddles with his work shirt, looking down with a frown on his face. There’s a small beat of silence, the only sounds made are from Franky slicing a metal piece with his laser eyes, before Bepo looks back up at me.

“What happened, Raya?” He swallows, searching for the right way to word the questions that hungrily race through his head. He curses a little to himself. “G-god, that’s an open ended question, I know, but… so much has happened, and now you’re part of Luffy’s crew? Why was– well, Gramps targeted? And-and… what the hell did you transform into before?”

I pause, letting Bepo's questions hang in the air. My fingers keep working, twisting the small wrench, though my mind is racing faster than my hands. The questions he’s asked are the ones I’ve been dreading, but also the ones I knew I couldn’t avoid forever. They’re the kind of questions that dig deep, uncovering layers of the past that I’ve buried under years of anger, fear, and guilt.

I can feel Law's gaze on me, and I know he’s just as curious, though he’s better at hiding it. Franky seems to have disappeared in the pursuit of more materials in a different cavern, leaving a different type of silence, one more threatening, in his wake. Even Zoro’s steady breathing, despite his seemingly relaxed state, feels like a pressure pushing me towards answers I’m not sure I’m ready to give.

But Bepo deserves the truth. Maybe they all do.

I clear my throat softly, choosing my words with care. "It’s… a lot. Look, when I was a kid, I had no idea what was really going on; I just knew that every time the Cp-0 came knocking on our door, we had to relocate to a different island and build up our workshop again. Gramps… he knew things, had secrets that I didn’t understand back then that I think I’m slowly uncovering. He tried to protect me, but in the end… He got taken."

I can feel the weight of their attention, even though no one’s directly looking at me. Law’s quiet demeanour, Zoro’s stillness, Bepo’s concerned eyes—they’re all listening, even if they’re trying to be subtle about it.

“That’s the same thing that happened to-”

“Penguin, I see,” Bepo finishes Law sentence, his mouth pursed into a fuzzy, sombre line.

I nod, playing with my fingers. "As for why I’m with Luffy now… I didn’t plan it. I was trying to stay low, to avoid getting involved in anything that could draw attention to me. But things don’t always go as planned. Luffy… well, you know how he is. He promised me that we’d go finding Gramps if I did join him.”

Bepo looks like he’s putting all the pieces together, his eyes searching the tattered ship for answers. Distantly, his voice comes out, slightly uncertain.

“So, that’s why Law went to ask Luffy for an alliance.”

I nod again, not knowing what else to say.

Bepo nods, slowly, trying to process my words, but I can see he’s still deeply troubled. His gaze flickers to the metal I’m working on, then back to me. “But why the alias? Why are you hiding yourself from them?”

I grit my teeth, my eyes trained to a stray bolt, my sentences coming out in quick-paced bullet points. “I don’t want to be known by that name anymore. I hate it. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Law quirks up a brow. “Quite the opposite, Raya. You know that could put them in danger, right? If they’re not prepared with what’s coming after you, it could be incredibly detrimental.”

I pause. He’s right, of course. I’ve been so focused on hiding, on keeping my past buried, that I hadn’t fully considered the consequences of keeping the truth from them.

I push that thought away and my resolve tightens. “You saw what I transformed into. I’ll keep the people coming after me at bay, without the crew even realising what went awry.”

“If you were part of my crew, I’d instantly throw you out,” Law coolly says, his torso shifting against the Polar Tang.

I let out a dry laugh. “Even if you tried to recruit me, I wouldn’t join you. Stay humble, doc.”

Law's expression remains neutral, but there's a glint in his eyes that shows he’s not entirely unaffected by my retort. He crosses his arms and leans back against the ship, seemingly unbothered, but I know him well enough to catch the subtle tension in his posture.

“You’re being obtuse, Raya. Not to mention incredibly selfish,” he bluntly states, not even trying to sugar-coat his words. “And if what Bepo’s told me about you is true, then that’s uncharacteristic of you. This'll affect everyone around you, exactly the way your Gramps had been. Taken, by a lifeless vessel, with two bulbous eyes.”

He leans in closer, his eyes now glinting more angrily, his voice lowering to a whisper. “At least your Gramps knew what he was getting into. He had a choice. And you, Raya, are not giving the same one to your crewmates.”

Fuck. Not once, but twice this asshole's statement rings true to me. If something were to happen, if the past I’ve been running from finally catches up to me, they could be caught off guard, unprepared for the shitstorm that I've happily brought along on board

I take a deep breath and meet Law’s eyes. “I never said I was a good person.”

Law's gaze hardens, Zoro’s body twitches, and for a moment, the air between us feels thick with tension. His eyes bore into mine, searching for something—maybe regret, maybe resolve. He doesn’t find either.

“I did some reading earlier,” Law breathes out coolly. “Of a person named Tyr. Tyr was ordinary. Incredibly so – mainly kept to himself, worked at a local mine, brought back food to his table without amiss. He didn’t have to work so hard, callous his hands day after day to scrounge up such measly coin to survive, but he did. He did it for his wife and two children, because he loved them so deeply, and he couldn’t see them suffer.

But that same Tyr also had no awareness of his lineage. Who he was didn’t concern him. He was a bastard’s child, no last name, his mother withered to dust during his childbirth. Until one day, a group of men dressed in black barged into his house and attempted to drag his wife and children away. You know what happened to that same old Tyr?”

I hold in a breath, not even daring to look at him. Even Zoro’s feigned equal breathing stops for a moment. I don’t respond, don’t even want to know about Tyr’s fate, but Law keeps on going.

“He turned into exactly what you are, Raya,” he says, his words quickening, tumbling out of his mouth with no regret. “And you know what he did?” Law leans in, his breath hitting my cheek coldly. “He was so consumed with his power, so lost in his own bottomless, consumed soul, he killed and tortured not only those men, but his two precious children and the wife that he adored more than anything.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face, the wrench slipping slightly in my grip – but Law keeps on going.

“So the thing about ‘Retribution’ is that you can be good. Dish it out to the deserved, change those who are able to be reformed. You can reign it in Raya,” he breathes out.

His eyes then darken, pinning me under his wrecked ship. “Or you can go off the rails. Go so off the rails, you’ll only be able to see red and red alone, and that power will quite certainly consume you, turn you, into the embodiment of Hell, just like good-natured, ordinary Tyr did. You’ll torture everyone, anyone, in sight, without even being aware of your own actions. Because all you will think about in that head of yours, echoing in every sick crevice, is of revenge, revenge, revenge. Pain, pain and even some more. So, if you don’t think you’re a good person now, what will you be when you transform?”

The silence that follows Law's words feels suffocating, like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. Tyr. The image of him, once a loving family man, transformed into a monster by the same power that now courses through my veins, is impossible to shake. My hands begin to shake.

I can feel the pain in the air, not just from me but from everyone around. Bepo’s usually soft and comforting presence is tinged with anxiety, his paws fidgeting restlessly as he waits for me to respond.

And Zoro… my heart thumps harder, unable to swallow the lump in my throat as I catch his gaze. He isn’t even trying to feign sleep anymore. He stares at me, only steps away, his fingers itching as if to unsheathe his sword and plunge it into me.

Realisation floods into me, my skin prickling in shock as I turn from Zoro to Law. “You brought him here on purpose, didn’t you?” I whisper.

Law’s expression doesn't change, but the flicker of something in his eyes confirms my suspicion. He knew. He knew that Zoro would be here, that he would want to hear everything. A part of me wants to be furious, to lash out at him for orchestrating this, but another part—a deeper, quieter part—knows that this was inevitable. I just didn't want to face it.

Zoro’s gaze is piercing, unflinching, as he stares at me. The air between us is palpable, like a live wire crackling with trepidation. His hand hovers near his swords, and for a moment, I can’t tell if it's a reflex or a genuine threat. The thought chills me to the core.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki.

I know he’s not one to draw his blade without reason, but the way his eyes bore into mine makes it clear that he’s weighing every word, every movement, every breath.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki, but you sure as hell should be worried about me.

Law finally breaks the silence, his voice as calm and steady as ever, his fingers still remaining comfortable against his lap. As if seeing what was going through my head, he twitches his head behind to Zoro, and mutters out, “He didn’t know I was roping him into this, and neither did Bepo. If you want to lash out, do it to me. Not them.”

I swallow hard, the chill between us almost suffocating. My eyes flick between Bepo, Zoro, and Law, each of them representing different facets of my life—my past, my present, and the uncertain future that looms ahead. Law’s calm, calculating demeanour clashes with Zoro’s barely restrained fury, and Bepo’s concern only amplifies the weight of it all.

Zoro’s gaze pierces through me as those damned words echo through my head again, unyielding. ‘You don’t scare me, Kozuki.’

“What the fuck, Trafalgar,” Zoro suddenly manages to bite out, the veins in his hand flexing in tandem to his rushing thoughts.

“You deserved to know,” Law says, his gaze still stuck on me. “Out of your entire crew, you’re the one who’s least likely to be reckless with danger. And this time, that danger is Raya.”

“I listen to Luffy, and Luffy only.”

“Bullshit. Look at you - your hands are itching for a sword.”

Zoro grits down on his teeth, his gaze on me slightly wavering, almost as if he’s feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. My mouth slightly opens in surprise – maybe a little bit of betrayal surging through me as I understand Law’s statement rings true to him.

I bark out an incredulous laugh, looking at both men. Bepo seems to be in looking between Law and I, torn on whether to stand by his captain or his childhood friend.

“So, what, you’re going to kill me?” I bite out, my hand tightening so hard I feel the wrench tear into my skin. “Throw out the rotten fruit? Go on, I’d like to see you try.”

“No.” Law steps forward until he towers over me, dark eyes flickering down to my face. Zoro almost growls out seeing how close Law is, how our bodies almost touch but both of us are too busy to hear him.

As I release a breath, the wind slowly begins to pick up around me, as if challenging Law to fight. My hair flits upwards into the air with small embers of fire that seep through many miscellaneous strands of brown. My eyes remain on him, sizing him up, wondering how it would feel if I could just plunge this wrench into his chest and taste his blood.

My eyes widen slightly at my intrusive thoughts, shock paralysing me and rooting me to the floor. Never in my life have I…

Law only observes me with a curled down frown, his ink black hair whipping from the rising wind.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” He murmurs lowly, lips pursed only ever so slightly. “You thought of something unsavoury.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I rise my chin up at him.

He kisses his teeth and grabs my wrist, his tattooed fingers curling over my skin tightly, as if knowing I would try to slip out and run away. A blue light seep from beneath his finger pads, my tan skin consuming its colour like an incubus. A sound, almost faint, whirls around me; a feminine voice uttering out words in a language that was definitely not born from the grounds of earth.

“Don’t fuck with me, Raya. Stop it with the dumbass defiant act,” he warns, the light underneath his hand glowing with more colour.

“Then why don’t you be a lovely doctor and move your hands away,” I retort.

Zoro growls at Law with outrage and boulders his way past Bepo - who looks like he’s about to pass out – and grabs him by the same glowing wrist that lays on me.

“Take your fucking hands off her before I cut them off,” he murmurs lowly, his eyes slitted demonically.

Law, outraged, whips his head around at Zoro. “What do you think you-“

But it’s too late. The glow in Law’s hands and fingers grows larger, bigger, taking up all the air in the room until even the fire that lights up the stalactite ceiling disappears.

It feels like the world around us has taken a deep breath and gasped out, snuffing our vision out.

It’s dark, almost like a black void has consumed me. There’s nothing but black, black, and black, assaulting my vision in drowning shades. My head turns this way and that way, my eyes hungrily, desperately, searching for something, and the sounds of someone scrambling on the floor resound in the chillingly silent cavern.

“L-Law! What’s happened?” Bepo desperately calls out, his heavy footsteps aimlessly thundering around me. I let out a strangled gasp, my eyes subconsciously widening almost as if trying to consume something, anything that I can see.

I hear Law from below me, on the floor, his heavy boots struggling to find purchase to stand up. Whatever he was casting threw him to the ground, his groans an outcome of his power.

A hot breath flattens against my skin, prickling my hair on my neck, making me instantly look up and try to figure out the source.

“Calm down,” Zoro mutters to me, his breath tickling the shell of my ear, my face coming into contact with what could be his hard chest. His rough fingers curl over my wrist, held so tightly it feels like he won’t dare to let go.

Unable to think, I comply and breathe in slowly through my mouth. Law sounds to be standing on his feet, slightly stumbling in blindness, before he growls out,

“You fucked up, Zoro.”

I furrow my brows together, my head whipping to Trafalgar’s direction, but before I can respond, Law bites out another remark.

“Look down.”

With nothing else I can do, I lower my head and my eyes come into contact with my wrist. A small, faint flicker of blue light encircles around my skin like a cuff, laying on my skin so tightly it almost becomes even painful to twist it.

It flickers again as it gains more energy, more colour, until the thin ring of light transforms into a shackled cuff. It glows in the darkness, giving light to my surroundings, my breath catching in my throat as I look around. My eyes instantly lock on to Law, who has his jaw clenched tightly. But a slight twinge of sardonic humour glints in his eyes as he turns to Zoro, who’s looking furiously at him, his grip on me unrelenting.

“Law? What-what did you do?” Bepo squeaks out, his eyes bulging out of his skull. “What just happened?!”

“What the fuck is this?” I demand, staring down at my wrist.

Law sighs heavily, ignoring both Bepo and I. He doesn’t look away from Zoro’s intense gaze, almost frowning in betrayal. “Roronoa, do you really think I would’ve killed her?”

I hear Zoro’s teeth grit together almost too painfully before he says, “You were too close to her for my liking.”

Law rolls his eyes, trying to clear the surprised glint in them. “Well,” Law muses, his finger pointing at Zoro’s wrist. “You won’t be having that problem anymore.”

Immediately, we all look down to Zoro’s wrist.

A faint twin blue flickers against his large wrist, gaining more and more light to restrict his skin into a painfully tight circle. He moves his wrist reflexively, hissing out a curse as it also drags my wrist in his direction. I topple over with a yelp, my elbow barraging into his chest.

Instantly, my face falters. I look closely at the cuff around my skin, the way it sections out into a pattern of interlocked chains, growing and growing to meet Zoro’s. Zoro’s face contorts into a horrified realisation that mirrors mine, his wrist – and in extension, mine - tugging in front of his face as if to test the theory out.

My head whips up as I murderously look at Trafalgar.

“Oh, you did not do what I just think you did,” I snap.

Trafalgar only smiles at me, devoid of any humour. “He should’ve moved out of the way.”

[elfelt-valentine]

i don't really get simpatico but i would love to understand it more bc its such a big part of transformers now. if you're willing, you can do that big post on simpatico here?? if you wanna??? i'd really appreciate the help 🥺👉👈

The thing with Simpatico is that i didn't exactly Get it at first too, most of my exposure was through fan content and reading the thing i was just Yeah it Makes Sense people ship this, but then it kind of bestowed on me more how these two people are just two parts fitting together perfectly in a way they wouldn't with others, and it's not even inherently Romantic to me, even if i see them as very much in love and conjunxed post MTMTE/LL story.

Their relationship is quite silly in the context at first. Brainstorm's profile calls him a conflicted Perceptor fanboy. The only thing we get, up to this point, is his Annoyance with how his genius is overshadowed by Perceptor. While Perceptor doesn't seem to give him his time of day at all, more concerned with his work and what Rodimus wants from him than what Brainstorm is up to.

It's honestly just my personal interpretation of either characters, but Perceptor is finally allowed to fullly get back to science again, he's not expected to be holding his sniper rifle (even though he was never expected to! He had himself believe that holding a weapon will make him of more value!), while Brainstorm is there with his own super secret super important agenda.

Brainstorm is, apparently, an MTO, while we don't know what for, but MTOs have a very sad track record and usually have a lot of baggage as they're usually "born" and then kicked into the heat of battle, barely having any chance to learn who they are, just what they're for. Yet Brainstorm has never killed anyone - and despite that, he's still LIED about being an MTO.

Here they're talking about the concept of Constructed Cold, but there were TWO waves of them - pre-war and post-war. What Brainstorm is talking about he was not even born to witness yet.

They're both people who, one way or the other, "defying" what they are. It's a common theme with tf ships for me, but in case with this, it's Perceptor believing that he has to be more, and at the point of MTMTE, perhaps, not feeling entirely whole, and Brainstorm WANTING to be someone He actually Wants to Be.

Brainstorm feels threatened when his intellect is belittled by people calling Perceptor the genius. Brainstorm is quite egotistical and selfish, but it all ends up being just a facade, just as much Perceptor's cold and perfect exterior he cultivated throughout years during the war, of someone he thought his side needed.

Up until Brainstorm's time travel shenanigans, we saw them interacting sometimes, and a lot of the time, it was Brainstorm trying to impress Perceptor somehow, or just being himself that draws attention of Percy nevertheless.

And then we see Percy smiling the most he's ever smiled throughout the comic, calling Brainstorm a genius himself, impressed by the intricate work of Brainstorm.

Perceptor gets up to clap for Brainstorm at his trial, and i think it's the moment that sold Perceptor for his respect to Brainstorm. Everything he ever knew about Brainstorm - the careless egotistical and cowardly scientist - turned out to be nothing but means to an end, making way to a dedicated, caring, kind and brilliant person into his mind.

I think their finale just says it all regarding these two, honestly.

"I always wanted recognition for what I am."

"Me too."

Brainstorm spent his life on science and to be recognized. He didn't hide the fact he's an MTO just because. He wants to be seen for his achievements. Perceptor's war trauma had him feel useless to his comrades, who's "purpose", who's Genius, was ultimately the thing people saw in him, brushing off his personal achievements, maybe even the fact he could be more, his person, the way he feels Brainstorm could understand, too.

They're simpatico for a reason, and its just one of them, but pretty crucial and at the very core of why they're so compatible.

While i understand simply thinking of them as "science duo" they're so so much more than that.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Gameplan

Hello! Another Drabble (second one i wrote) concerning the idea of Nightmare returning to his original form (Lovely Prompt idea by @spotaus )

First Drabble here Prev drabble here Next Drabble here

Warning, unedited and unbeta'ed. We die like my ability to spell anything.

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Cross checks around the corner towards the street and waits for a moment longer before nodding "I think we are in the clear. We can talk here for a moment."

Killer just lounges back against a dumpster as he pants "Good! Cuz! I am not walking another step!"

Horror frowns as he searches his backpack. Slowly taking out some fruits "We need to stop this. We can't get the resources we need like this."

Cross groans as he rubs his face "I know I know. But we can't just settle anywhere! How do we explain..." He stops and slowly turns to look to the side at Dust.

Dust sits completely calm on the gorund, cross legged. Looking perfectly calm and content. With the still struggling Nightmare in his arms. Dust just sits there and looks at Nightmare with a raised brow and moves around a bit. Easily getting Nightmare to sit back in his lap with one of Dust's arm holding Nightmare around the middle wiht both arms trapped. And the second arm around his shoulders to pull him back easily. Nightmare looks grumpy beyond believe and Cross can't take it too seriously as Nightmare lost all his goop and corruption. All that remains is a perfectly normal and adorable tiny babybones.

Cross turns back to Horror and Killer and waits.

Horror looks at the scene before shrugging before turning back to prepare a snack for their now tiny charge. Looking calm as he moves.

Killer snorts "Why would we? Boss is tiny now. So what?" and he shrugs.

Cross groans as he rubs his face. He can admit that he will still need some time to get used to the change. But it is okay as he can accept it. After they found the old picture book and the just as old crown they had been putting together what actually happened. And well, even if they sometimes act dumb three out of four of them have university degrees of some type and Cross had always been one of the smartest soldiers.

That together with the known fact that Drema broke out of the stone young but grew up made the fact obvious.

It wasn't that they were in a situation of Nightmare having been deaged. They were in the situation that the Nightmare they had known had been an aged-up version of the real nightmare. Which is the very same grumpy babybones that Dust is holding right now.

Yeah. Cross just needs a bit more time.

Cross glares at Killer and focusses at the issue they need to actually fix "We know that!" he waves around them "But how do you think anyone is going to react to knowing we have Nightmare and that Nightmare is well... like this again?"

Killer hums and nods "I guess..." he turns towards Nightmare "How about a different name? What do you think Nighty? What can we call you?"

Nightmare glares with all his six year old force "Boss."

Killer snorts "got it tiny boss!" and he grins at Cross and shrugs "Guess that idea is a burst. anything else?".

Cross groans as he rubs his skull "don't you see the issue?! If anyone finds out about this they will try to take him from us and bring him to the Stars, if they don't just call the Stars!" Or worse. And they will think that killing Nightmare would be a reasonable solution to keeping him from aging up.

Killer actually glares as he radiates his blood- and LOVE-lust "Let them try."

Cross sighs as he rubs his face "what do you suggest we do?!"

Killer huffs "Obviously we do what we are doing now. We keep moving and universe hopping." and he nods.

Horror looks up with a frown "We can't do that. We will run out of resources. babybones need nutrients" as he says this he sits by Dust and Nightmare with the cut fruits. Nightmare focuses his full glare on Horror but Horror doesn't even blink. They have gotten used to this routine over the last few days and there is a good reason Dust and Horror do it.

Dust nods as he helps Horror by aiming the still struggling babybones "Not to forget his schooling. Now that he is young again he will need to relearn things. Can't do that while hopping from place to place."

Cross turns back to Killer and crosses his arms "See? horror and Dust agree."

Killer grumbles. "Fine! We find some stupid positive universe to hunker down in some abandoned building and do raids to get stuff. Easy!"

Cross crosses his arms "Still the problem of what we do if someone sees him. How do we explain that? people will think we stole him!"

Killer goes to speak. pauses and tilts his skull "I mean. Technically we did kind of steal him. Sure he was originally our boss, so ours. So we have the right to steal him again but still. Very much stolen."

Cross sputters "I! I wasn't serious!" well he was but not about the stolen comment!

Horror speaks up even as he feeds Nightmare, which Ngihtmare tries to fight but Dust is there to assist him. "Technically it wasn't stealing."

Cross sighs "Thank you Horror-"

"We kidnaped him." Horror finishes his statement as he manages to get Nightmare to eat a bit. Nightmare actually pauses and the stubbornness makes way for the much younger mind that enjoys the food and a tiny soft purr starts to leave the babybones. He doesn't struggle as much anymore as the second bite is brought over.

Cross stops and lets his skull fall into his hands "we are so fucked."

All three speak up "Language."

Cross groans louder. They are so fucked.

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First Drabble here Prev drabble here Next Drabble here

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[pattypanini]

Lay All Your Love On Me

Chapter 4- Drunk Words, Are Sober Thoughts

Josh Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 6,384 

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the fourth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! Thank you so much for all the support on our last three chapters. Here is the taglist incase anyone wants to be added to it: TAGLIST. We hope you enjoy chapter 4, Drunk Words, Are Sober Thoughts.

Also get ready for smut because it doesn't end from here, only gets worse. LOL

Next chapter coming next Tuesday!

Warnings: 18+, SMUTTTTT, 69, Tit fondling, Fingering, Oral (F and M receiving), Angst, Flirting, Cursing, Hickeys, Nudes, Sexting.

y/n's POV

Your last class of the day, Music History, went by pretty fast. Coming to the University of Michigan, you were set on Musical theater being your major, but from listening to Charlotte talk about her major, elementary education, you fell in love with the idea of being a teacher. From there, you observed some music classrooms in your area and knew you had to make a change. You're now a Music Education Major and can’t wait to teach the youth all about your passion.

It's very sunny and warm today, which normally would have led to you picking out a tank top and shorts, but due to the marks all over your chest you opted for a black shirt with a higher neckline and black shorts paired together with your white Hokas. Although the sun felt good on your skin it wasn’t good for your hangover. 

Normally a loud upbeat song would be the way to go for after class, but due to the way you’ve been feeling, Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey was the smarter option. You were perfectly content in the moment but your music was suddenly brought to a halt as you felt your headphones being pulled down around your neck.. 

As you turn to see who it is, you meet the last person you’d want to see, Josh. But something was off, he seemed cocky.

“Hey mama, have a good time last night?”

What is he going on about?

“What?” You ask annoyed.

“Well you seemed to be having a loose night. I have a question, am I always on your mind or were those texts also ‘not meant for me’?”

What. What is he talking about? Your mouth opens to defend yourself, “ I- um, I don't… know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll see you in there” leaning into your ear, “little cum slut.” He winks and slaps your ass making you jump. He starts walking away into the building.

Immediately, your hand goes to your pocket, opening your messages. Holy shit.

11:14pm y/n: God Josh, I can’t stop thinking about you 

11:30pm y/n: I hsd a dream about you, it was so hot.

11:31pm y/n: Fucking me from bwhind, you were calling me a cum slut. I wanna be your cum slut, Josh. 

11:54pm y/n: You shoudl come over.

11:55pm y/n: You're probably sleeping like a loser, come over Joshy.

 No way. There is actually no way. 

You begin to make your way towards the bench outside the building and reread the texts.

You could throw up. You did not recall sending a single one of those text messages. The first text, whatever, but the others… now he has the high ground on you. You can’t go to this practice. He probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. 

You would never care if you sent a drunk text to anyone else, but he’s different. How stupid could I be? 

No, you couldn’t let that douchebag win. You pick up your bag and your head, making your way into the building. 

You push past the doors, walking with a purpose. Once you get to the room you walk through the doors to see Josh staring at the doorway, as if he was waiting for you to walk in. As you make eye contact your eyes go to him, then to the raven haired girl, next to him. 

Wait, why is he talking to her. Josh would never be caught dead talking to “extras,” he's too good for that. So why is she an exception? 

JOSH’S POV

God will she ever stop talking. Sophia has nothing of worth to say to you. Normally, you wouldn’t talk to other people on the cast, they're not on your level. She's hot, not your normal type, but you’d do it at least once. 

y/n is putting on the act that she's chill, but nothing she’d say or do could convince you after seeing her reaction to the text she sent. You felt kinda bad, but it’s probably something she does a lot. 

“Alright everyone!” You hear Coleman scream obnoxiously. “y/n, Josh, I assume you guys worked something out?” 

You look at y/n and she's nodding with a big smile on her face, what is she so giddy for?

As everyone clears the stage you and y/n meet in the middle of it. “Okay so since you guys worked things out lets go from the Lay All Your Love On Me scene, got it? Not the speaking, straight to the singing.”

You look at y/n and once again she's smiling ear to ear. 

She has a pretty smile. It lights up the room, whether it's fake or not. 

You try your best to tune out your thoughts. You climb up your fake rock wall and the music begins and you count yourself in to start singing.

As you make your way down the steps y/n is looking at you with a certain type of eyes. 

Not of innocence, but of lust.

“Now everything is new. And all I’ve learned has overturned, I beg of youuuuu.” You sing, leaning in close to her, lips less than an inch apart.

She pushes you and your body slams hard against the wall behind you. You sensed real anger behind that one.

“Don’t go wasting your emotionnn, Lay all your love on meee.” She sings as her hands drag softly down your body, her nose touching yours.

Her vanilla perfume smells so good, it's intoxicating. 

As the scene goes on, she continues to mesmerize you. She begins kneeling to the ground, you mirror her. 

She crawls to you, her back arched, hips swaying side to side. Usually she’d wear a lower cut shirt, but assuming because of the hickeys, she wore something a little higher neck. You wish she had worn a v-neck. Her tits are perfect. 

“A grown-up woman should never fall so easily.”

She finally meets with you, leaving no room for innocence.

“I feel a kind of fear.” Her eyes fasten to yours. 

Her hands start at your chest once again, something she would have never done before. With every inch they trailed down, you expected her to stop, but she never did.

“When I don’t have you near.”

They make it to your waistband.

“Unsatisfied, I skip my pride.”

And caresses your already hard dick, leaving it for a moment.

“I beg you dearrr.”

You can’t hold back. Your hands go to her neck and push the hair off her shoulders and inch your mouth closer to her mouth, edging her as you both kneel in front of each other. 

You begin to sing. “Don’t go wasting your emotion.” You place one hand on her back, lifting her torso up into you, and press her into your chest, brushing her tits into you as you gently lay her to the ground. 

Leaving little space, you press down, pushing your dick onto her pelvis. You watch as her eyes widen a tad and a slight chuckle travels past your lips. 

“Lay all your love on meeee.” Your head bows down, closer to her ear as the extras begin to come in from the side stage.

Normally you’d go in for the kiss but you had something else up your sleeve. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I know you want me, you cum slut.” You quietly whisper in her ear.

The guys begin to grab you up off her and Coleman shouts. 

“STOP STOP!”

Everyone stops in fear, placing you back onto the floor, not knowing why she was so amped up.

“Holy shit, GUYS, that was PERFECT! The tension, the love, whatever you're doing keep it up.”

You lend y/n a hand to get her off the floor. As you pull her up, you continue to pull her in close, her ear meeting your lips. 

“I guess we have to keep practicing then.” You smirk at her, anxiously awaiting her response. 

“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight at your place?” She says with a wink. 

How can she be so confident after all that happened? It made her 100x sexier. But you knew you were going to have to walk the walk after talking so much game. You were going to rock her world tonight. 

As practice went on the room got hotter and hotter, and you could tell it was getting to y/n, along with everyone else practicing. She was getting uncomfortable in the shirt she was wearing, sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Next thing you know, she was pulling her shirt away from her body to try and let some air pass through, as she was getting more and more antsy. 

You turn away to grab your water, from being out of breath from the last scene, and as you turn back around you're met with a sight. y/n had taken her shirt off leaving her in nothing but her sports bra, her hickeys on full display. You could see Lindsey’s eyes widen and jaw drop. You begin to walk up to them, wanting to hear a piece of how y/n was going to defend herself. 

“Holy shit y/n, did you get attacked or something?” Lindsey asks sarcastically. 

y/n giggled, “No Lindsey I didn’t, just had a good weekend…”

“Did you now?” You begin to ask. “And who's the man of the week?”

“Doesn’t matter, it wasn’t all that exciting.” She looks at you with a smirk as she takes a sip of her water.

“What did you guys do?” Lindsey prods for more.

“Well, not all that much. We watched a movie and then he was getting touchy, which I didn’t mind. Then I straddled him and we made out and he was about to go down on me but someone walked in on us.”

“WHAT, that’s crazy! You have such an exciting life.” 

You roll your eyes at the statement. “Are you going to see him again?” You question her, as if you don’t already know who ‘mystery man’ is.

“I might Josh, but I hope he brings more to the table this time, or else I’m gonna have to call up my regular hookup.”

Your eyebrows raise, “You’ll have to keep us updated then, I guess.” You shoot her a devious smile, you watch as her cheeks reddened a tad. 

“Oh I will.” y/n says to you. 

Lindsey is staring at the both of you now, looking confused. “Am I missing something?”

“No Lindsey, Josh is just a nosy piece of shit.” She leans in to whisper to her. “Plus he probably gets no action so he likes to listen in on what happens in the bedroom.” Making sure you were still able to hear. 

Everyone disperses and we run a couple more scenes, before Coleman dismisses us. 

You look to find y/n packing up her stuff. When you spot her in the corner putting her shirt back on, you walk over to her with your bag. 

“Hey.” You ask innocently. 

“Hi Josh.” She waits for you to leave. “Do you need something?”

“Well I was going to see if I could walk you back to your dorm? It doesn’t make up for not walking you back the other night obviously. I feel bad though, sooo, can I?” You give her a dorky, little smile.

She smiles at you and thinks about it as you two make it towards the doors, opening it for her as she walks through. “Okay fine, but I have to stop at the campus store first to grab a celsius. I don’t want to be a drag tonight.” You look at her and smile. She looks back with a scared look. “Wait, do you not want me to come over? I thought you were being for real but if you're not I can just…”

“y/n, stop. I want you to come over. Calm down.” You pull out your sunglasses, the sun burning your eyes and skin, but you look over to y/n to see her uncomfortably squinting and covering her eyes with her hands. 

“You want these?” Handing her your sunglasses.

“No I’ll be okay, it's the consequences of my own drunken actions.” Realizing what she brought up she goes silent. 

“You know I didn’t mind those texts you sent.” You say opening the doors to the campus store.

“I’m sure you didn’t mind, but I’m the one who sent them.” She says as she makes her way back to the refrigerated section. 

“Were they true?” 

“Well yeah, I don’t think even drunk me would make up something as crazy as that.” She reaches in and grabs a kiwi guava celsius and makes her way up to the register.

“Is that your favorite flavor?” You ask her as you begin to reach into your pockets. 

“Oh for sure. I had a big 24 pack in my dorm but I kinda went through that already since the beginning of the semester.”

You thought about it, “It’s only been a little over a month.” She nods cutely and puts her celsius on the counter. 

“Just the celsius please.” 

“That’ll be $2.39.” She places her backpack on the floor to grab her wallet out, but before she could stand up you quickly tapped your card to the reader. You grab the celsius and look at her as she stands there confused.

“Okay let's go.” You smile at her and she awkwardly puts her bag back on and heads towards the door.

“You didn’t have to do that Josh.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” You open it and hand it to her.

She takes a sip and hands it back to you, “You wanna try it?” You look for a moment and think. “You can’t make the excuse that you're a germaphobe, you had your tongue down my throat.” 

You take it and take a small sip and a shock of flavors and bubbles wash over your tongue. 

“Ew, what the fuck. You drink this shit everyday?”

“WHAT, I love it. How can you not?” She grabs it back and takes another sip. Beginning to walk down the path to her dorm building.

“Do they hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” You take a look down to her chest, to where the hickeys would be if they weren’t covered. 

“Oh phh, no.” She laughs. “Not as nearly as bad as other times before, this one time this guy Mark he left um… um never mind.” She awkwardly laughs and looks down to the sidewalk. 

As she makes her way up the steps and swipes her card into the building she turns to you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him up. And I’ve been thinking about it and I respect what we have going on here, with practicing and well…a little more than that. So I'm not going to be talking and getting with other guys while this progresses. I want this to be like the real deal for the show, so I want to put in the effort for it.” 

She stands there for a moment, waiting for you to respond. “Okay, deal. I won’t be getting with anyone either.” She smiles at you holding the door open to the building. 

“Okay, cool. Um well I’ll see you tonight.” She smiles letting the door close behind her. 

She’s all yours. Well until the show is over. Which leaves you a month to make it happen for real. 

y/n’s POV

You walk into the living room, drop your bag onto the floor, and make your way into the bathroom. Your head had been pounding all day and you wanted to feel the best you could for tonight with Josh. 

You waltz over to the cabinet and rummage through the drawers for the ibuprofen. After swallowing them down with the sink water, you look up to yourself in the mirror. Jeez. You look like a mess. You have to get yourself ready before you head over to Josh’s. 

As you strip off your sweaty garments you look into the mirror and notice the soft purple marks scattered across your skin. You were kind of sad they were starting to fade, you liked being marked by him.

But you were happy that you were both able to reach a civil agreement, you weren’t best friends by any means, but you were kind of excited that you were each other's until the show was over. You liked the level of commitment you both had for each other.

You enter into the shower and put a lot of thought into everything you were doing. Making sure you got a good clean shave, shampooing your hair really well, and making sure your body was clean in preparation for tonight. 

As you get out of the shower, you dry yourself off and slip into your soft robe. And notice a text 

Josh 7:45pm: Come over around 9, don’t eat anything.

Hmm, you wonder what he has planned. You heart the text and begin to towel dry your hair and wonder what hairstyle you should do for tonight. You think about different times you've worn your hair a certain way and remember Josh giving you a little extra when your hair was down. 

You get out your blow out brush and plug it in and start sectioning your hair into pieces. You begin styling your hair and after about thirty minutes you finish. You really like the way it looks when you blow it out but sometimes you just don’t have the effort. You lotion up your body and then walk into your room and begin to pick out an outfit. 

While the shorts were great for last time, you wanted him to have to make more of a move this time. So you opt for a pair of navy blue leggings and a tight black athletic t-shirt, this time, opting for no bra on purpose. You take a seat at your vanity and begin with a dewy base, cream blush, black mascara, and lip gloss.

You make sure your gold necklace with your initial, that you never take off, is centered on your neck. Pairing it with your normal stack of earrings and apple watch. Finishing off with your spray deodorant and douse yourself in your coconut vanilla perfume. 

You check the time and it was 8:38. Which gives you plenty of time to get your things together and say bye to Charlotte. You walk to the kitchen and fill up your hot pink Stanley with ice and water and chug the rest of the Celsius from earlier. You quickly brush your teeth so you're all fresh and then make your way into the living room to grab your belt bag and say bye to Charlotte. 

“Are you going out y/n?” Charlotte asks while deep into her HayDay game play. 

“I am, I’m going to Josh’s again.” You look into the mirror to check your hair and makeup, fixing the lipgloss on your lips. 

“Again? Are you guys a thing or something?”

“It’s complicated.” You grimace at her.

“What! Complicated? With the same Josh Kiszka that you hated deeply a few months ago?” She raises her eyebrow at you, with a slight smirk on her face.

You shake your head and laugh. “Whatever, plus we both kinda agreed on being committed to each other, just for the role, until this is all over. Which I don’t mind.”

Charlotte smiles at you, “Okayyy, well you two have fun tonight.”

You smile back at her and blow a sweet kiss to her and pull your bag over your shoulders and grab your water bottle and head out the door.

“USE PROTECTION!” You hear from the crack of the door.

“Sure…” you mutter under your breath, closing the door, making sure it is locked behind you. 

y/n 8:58pm: omw

As you make your way to his apartment you reapply your lip gloss and fluff your hair to give it a lot of volume. 

It was a little chillier that night than you had expected, so the no bra decision was starting to seem like the wrong decision. As you begin to walk up the stairs to his apartment you try to warm up your body before you would have to knock on the door. 

Once you finally get to the door, you look down to see that warming yourself up didn’t help very much with hiding your hardened nipples. You knock on the door and wait for Josh to answer but hear shouting from behind the door. After a few seconds of waiting you’re met with Jake again at the door. Were they fighting for who was going to get the door? 

“Hey y/n”, you watch as Jake’s eyes flick down to your chest. You get a sudden surge of self consciousness and cross your arms over yourself.

“Hi Jake”, you shoot him a tight smile, slipping past him through the doorway. Your nipples graze over his chest as you walk by him. He smirks to you and looks down to your tits, obviously feeling them when you walked by.

“You know, once this whole ‘thing’ you guys have is over, I'm here waiting for you.” Quickly exiting out the door before anything else can be said. Leaving you left with Josh standing in the hallway. 

“What was he saying, y/n?” 

You thought about saying the truth but didn’t want to ruin the night. “Nothing just joking about being ‘safe’ tonight you know.” 

“Right… well, I have something in the living room for us.” Josh smiles to himself. He swiftly grabs your hand, leading you into the living room. Upon entering the room, you see two white bags sitting on the coffee table. “I got you a bagel from that little shop on main. I know you mentioned the everything bagel with lox so I got that, I hope it's okay.” You smile ear to ear and look at him and notice his cheeks blushing. 

You can’t help but hug him. He wasn’t the tallest person, but it was a nice difference for your 5 foot stature. 

“This is so sweet Josh, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know but we did really well today and I thought it was deserved. So what do you wanna do?”

“Do you wanna watch a show, have you ever seen Community?”

“No, as long as it's not a stupid ass show we can watch it.”

“Yay, I think you’ll like it. Could you plug my phone in somewhere, I think it's gonna die.”

He takes and brings it back to his room and comes back out to meet you in the living room.

As you take the seat that you were in not too long ago, Josh hands you your bagel. It looked so yummy, considering how hungry you were. He brings up Community on Netflix and starts the first episode letting it play while you guys eat your bagels. Throughout, he laughed a few times at the raunchy jokes made by the characters. You begin to feel far from him and want to make a move. You begin to nestle yourself in between his legs, leaning your back into his chest. As time went on he wrapped his arms around your torso, resting them on your stomach. By the 6th episode you were very comfortable, it felt like you had melted into each other. 

He began to release your arms that were tangled with his, one making its way down to your legs and the other wrapping around your tits. Your head tilts back to look at him, resting on his shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing, Joshy?”

“I’m just trying to make you feel good mama.” As he says that you feel a hand begin to pass under the waistband of your leggings. “Is this okay?” You nod frantically wanting it so incredibly bad. “Speak to me y/n, use your words.”

“Yes Josh.” You grab his hand moving it faster to your heat, slipping it past your underwear. 

“Patience y/n, you’ll get what you want. I’m gonna make you feel so good baby, you won't even remember the others.” As soon as he was done talking, his fingers started making fast circles around your clit and his left hand going under your shirt, squeezing your left tit. 

You started moaning uncontrollably. You wish you could have held it in, but he knew the spots to get you going. “Talk to me, Josh, Talk me through it.” His fingers teased your entrance, before they were forcefully plunged into you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re such a fucking slut. You feel so nice and wet around my fingers. Who’s got you this wet baby, huh? Tell me.” 

“You Josh, fuck, I’m all yours. Your fingers feel so good in my pussy. Are you gonna make me cum?” Your hands reach behind you and grip onto his hair for leverage. 

For a moment he stops, before lifting you up and carrying you to his bedroom. When you get there you’re gently laid down on your back on this navy blue comforter. He begins to peel the leggings off your legs and discard of your shirt, leaving you in only your black, lacy thong. You felt exposed, but Josh made you feel safe. 

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He begins to leave a trail of kisses down your body, making sure to kiss over the purple marks he made before, and leaving new ones down by your underwear before pulling those off too. 

“Look at that pretty pink pussy. All for me.” He says while letting his finger pass through your slick, examining how wet you are, before bringing it up to his mouth and tasting you. “God, I've been thinking about how you taste after our little interruption last time.” Without further warning he goes down in between your legs licking up your slit, getting a good taste. 

“Fuck Josh, please just do it. Eat me the fuck out.” You beg him.

“Patience sweetheart. You’ll get what you want.” He fuels your fire. 

He leaves more kisses and hickeys in between your legs, basically making contact with anything but your pussy. After a while of teasing you couldn’t take it any more. 

“Please Josh, I need you. Tongue fuck me. I need you so bad Josh.” You’re sick of his games, you are desperate at this point. 

“Are you always like this? A fucking slutty brat. Such a dirty little girl.” 

His face dives back down in between your thighs, immediately creating circles on your clit, causing your hand to go straight down to his hair. “FUCK Josh, don’t stop. Just like that.”

As he continues going down on you, your back arches, pushing his head in further. 

It was all so good, you were so close, it was all perfect. 

RING RING RING 

Your head shoot’s up along with Josh’s. It’s your phone. Oh fuck. Josh goes to grab it and it was the last person you could have wanted to call you. Mark. Fuck. 

“Um, just ignore it Josh, I don't know why he's…”

Before you can say more Josh answers. “Hello?” 

“Hi, who is this, I’m looking for y/n.”

“She's a little busy right now, isn't that right baby?” He says before placing the phone onto your chest and looking deep into your eyes beginning to press his fingers back into you. 

“Hi Mark, um yeah I’m a little, FUCK.” Josh curled his fingers hard and fast right into your g-spot. “Um, I can’t talk right now.”

Josh picks the phone back up, not missing a beat on your g-spot. “Yeahhhh sorry about that.”

“Okay um I’ll call back later I guess?” He asks, confused, you’re usually never busy.

“No you won’t.” He hangs up the phone and throws it to the ground.

He brings his full attention back to you. “Just so you know, you're mine. Only mine, not Marks, or whoever else you have in your phone, mine. Got it slut, tell me who you are.”

“I’m yours Josh only yours, I’m a slut for you.” He smiles, beginning to pick up the pace. He leans down kissing you passionately. You were so close to orgasm but you didn’t want to do it like this. 

“I’m so close Joshy, but this isn't how I wanna cum.” He stops, very confused on why you were making him stop. You begin to lift yourself off the bed and switch your positions letting him sit on the bed, and bring yourself in between his legs. 

“Take these off Josh, let me see what I’ve caused.” You lightly tug on the waistband of his shorts.

Josh stands up, pushing down the sweatshorts he had on from earlier. Releasing his cock, letting it slap against his abs. It was much different than it looked in the pictures. You spit into your hand and begin to pump up and down on him, just barely able to get your hand all the way around. You rub your thumb around his tip a few times, eliciting a moan from him. 

You could tell he wanted you to suck him off, but didn’t want to push you down. You looked up to him, “You want me to suck your dick Josh, gag on it while it's in my throat?”

“Fuck yes, y/n, please I need you.”

“Beg for it Josh, the same way you made me.” You whisper seductively into his ear, earning a shudder from him. 

“Please baby, I need you so bad, I wanna feel your mouth around my cock. You’ll feel so good, then I can make you feel so good, please mama. I fucking need it”.” 

With that you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, still having your hands wrapped around it pumping up and down, synchronized with your mouth. 

It was like an automatic response for his hands to go to your hair, yanking at the nice blowout you had, wrecking it with no remorse. But you didn’t mind, you wanted to make him feel good and to always remember how you made him feel.

You were starting to gag on his dick, but you weren’t gonna back down that easily. The watery feeling you knew all too well started in your eyes. Tears began trickling down your flushed cheeks, undoubtedly taking your mascara along with them. 

“You’re a mess, baby. I fucking love it. Such a dirty whore for me.” 

You took him out of your mouth for a moment, trying to get a little air, continuing to pump him with your hand. He looks down to you, wiping a tear from your face. “You’re so fucking sexy, y/n.” 

“Get up.” You say forcefully.

“What?” He shoots you a confused look, brows furrowing. 

“I said get up. Lay in the middle of the bed.”

Without any further questioning Josh moved back so he was at the center of the bed. You begin to climb on top of him and turn so your pussy was hovering above his face. 

“Are you gonna finish the job Josh?” Before you could respond he pulled you down onto his face, leaving little to no room for air. It was time for you to finish the job for him, as well. 

You leaned down taking him into your mouth again, knowing it can’t be too long until he's gonna cum. The feeling beneath you though was becoming a distraction for what you had to do. You were moaning onto his cock, which led to vibrations that you knew would make him moan back. It was becoming a match of who would cum first. Both of you were so close to finishing, you were beginning to meet your climax. 

“I’m gonna cum y/n, move your mouth.”

Does he not know who you are?

“y/n, move your fucking mouth,” he repeats.

You bob your head faster and faster before you feel warm fluid hit the back of your throat. 

“Oh fuck baby, you’re so fucking hot sucking up my cum.” He wasn’t going to waste anymore time. You sucked up the rest of him before swallowing it. You lifted your body up, bracing yourself on the bed beneath you. Josh’s tongue began to pick up the pace, his hands digging into your hips, and you were really feeling it. 

“FUCK, Im gonna cum Josh don’t stop please.”

Within seconds you felt a wash of pleasure all over your body, riding out the high on his face. 

You pull yourself off him and lay beside him. He’s  silent for a moment before turning and looking at you.

“You’re a fucking slut you know that? God damn.” His hand trails gently along your thigh.

You smile thinking about, “Yeah I know, this slut made you cum though, hard.”

He rolls over kissing you hard, threading his hand through your hair.

“Do you wanna, uh, stay the night?”

You thought about it. Your first class wasn’t until 12 anyways. Plus you could always go back to your room beforehand. 

“I mean if you really want me to. I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“I do, I really do. You’re not intruding at all. Plus, I wouldn’t want you to have to walk back after all of that.”

You smile before getting up to look at yourself in the mirror in his room. Holy shit. You looked like a mess. Your hair was absolutely destroyed, knotted and messy. Makeup was smeared all over your face and mascara was trailed all down your cheeks. Your skin is bruised with fresh hickeys. You were a nightmare. Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the sluttiest of them all. You. Definitely you.

“How could you look at me, I look insane Josh.” You begin to walk back over to the bed.

“What are you talking about, you look so fucking hot. I thought I mentioned that many times.” You both laughed before he got up. 

“Do you need something to sleep in?”

“Yeah that would be good, do you just have a shirt and shorts, or even boxers? I don't really care.

He nods before picking out some blue gingham boxers and an oversized Michigan t-shirt. You slip them over your body and make your way to the bathroom before freshening up. 

You quickly wash your face off with some warm water and try to brush down your hair as much as possible. When you come back out and make your way back into his room he isn’t there. 

“I'm in the kitchen y/n.” You turn your head and walk down the hallway and to the right into the very small kitchen where Josh got two glasses of water, handing one to you. 

“You know with how well you did tonight I would have thought you were a whore yourself, or is that something you like to keep to yourself?” You look down to check your watch. 11:48, not too late but you were definitely getting sleepy after all of that.

He laughs making his way back to the living room sitting down long ways on the couch, where he once was. Not knowing where he wanted you to sit, you took the safe choice and sat down next to his feet.

“I mean I’ve had my fair share, but nothing crazy.” You take a sip of his water before placing it on the end table and grabbing the remote to click “Continue Playing” on the TV. He turned around and grabbed the blanket that was across the back of the couch. 

“Are you scared of me or something, after all of that? If anything I should be scared of you.” You laughed and laid your head in his chest. He flung the blanket up so it was on top of both of you.

“What time do you have to be up tomorrow?” You asked. 

“Well I have a class at 11 so I have an alarm set for 10.”

“Okay, I’ll just wake up when you do so I can go back to my room and get ready for class. I’ll be right back. I'm just gonna text my roommate that I won’t be back.” 

He nods, picking up the blanket to let you go pass. You quickly scurry back to his room and just let Charlotte know that you’d be back tomorrow morning to walk with her to your class that you have together. 

As you leave the hallways you’re met in the middle with someone you hadn’t seen all night, Jake. You didn’t even hear the door open. 

He looks at you, noticing the shirt you had on, making his eyebrows go up. You begin to go around him before you are stopped. “You could do better, I’ll be here when you're ready for the treatment you deserve.” He whispers. You stare at him for a moment before making your way back into the living room. 

Josh is laughing at whatever just happened on the show and he happily lifts the blanket for you to get back under. 

“You could do better, I’ll be here when you're ready for the treatment you deserve.”

What is up with these Kiszka men? You brush off what Jake had said to you, remembering that as if now you’re Josh’s. As you watch the show you begin to doze off. Your eyes closed and had to force them to stay open, and Josh playing with your hair was making it harder. You decided that it was definitely time to just call it quits and sleep. You lift your head to Josh who was intently watching the screen. How is he not tired? 

“Goodnight Josh, thank you for tonight.” You press a kiss onto his lips. You could feel a smile forming beneath yours. 

“Night y/n, I’m glad you had a good night. Sleep well mama.” Pressing one final kiss into your head. 

With that you were out like a light, sleeping the best you had in a while. Dreaming about the night you had and the future that will come.

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

Taglist:

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @mar-rein12 @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12

[marsbutterfly]

I for one am delighted to see someone opening up AOT requests! I feel like I haven't seen anyone do so for a very long time.

I'd love any kind of short one-shot about Reiner with an s/o who doesn't want kids, like maybe y/n confessing to not wanting children and him actually being cool with it?

I get a little bummed out when so many Reiner things talk about him wanting children more than anything. Like, obviously fics and headcanons about him wanting kids are fine, but I don't think I've seen anyone (with exactly one exception) talk about him being content just to love and be loved by an s/o. One person even told me point blank that Reiner wouldn't be happy in a relationship with me if I don't want kids. Sheesh.

Yeah, We've All Heard That Before

Summary: One simple question from your future mother-in-law first thing in the morning is enough to derail your entire plans for breakfast.

a/n: hey zeki! it's been a while! thank you for sending in your request and for answering my questions. I hope I did it justice in some way ♡

warnings: just fluff, fem!reader, kissing, mentions of pregnancy, slight jeanpiku if you squint, reader doesn't want kids, mentions of anxiety, not beta read (we die like men ♡)

wc: 2.7k | wattpad! | ao3!

“Apparently, Pieck is pregnant,” Reiner says as he flips the pages of his newspaper. The rain pouring outside sets the perfect atmosphere for a cozy morning: no meetings, no angry phone calls, and especially no being apart from him. His voice is a bit raspy, telling you that he is struggling to stay awake but his efforts don’t go unnoticed.

“I will bet you $50 right now that it’s Kirstein’s,” you respond in the same tone of voice, a small hint of playfulness hiding behind the seriousness of your features. Even though you are facing the counter, focusing as you prepare your morning coffee, you can still hear Reiner choking slightly on his tea, a laughter muffled by the sounds of his coughing and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Alright, I’ll take that bet,” he says after taking a couple of minutes to compose himself, enough time for you to start making some pancakes for breakfast. As soon as you hear his voice, you turn around to face him, your hand firmly gripping the handle of the pan, “I think it belongs to the boy who works down at the docks. He is always bringing her flowers when we come back from our trips and I’ve seen her sneak a couple of glances in his direction.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I don’t think she even remembers his name, but you got yourself a deal. Easiest $50 I have ever made.”

It’s Reiner’s turn to laugh, a delightful sound you grew more and more used to hearing now that the two of you were living together. Life after the rumbling wasn’t easy. While he found himself being an ambassador and dealing with business regarding the isle, you were quite happy making a life for the two of you back in what used to be Liberio. Though you had been spending most of your time alone, the moments you had the chance to be with Reiner truly were magical.

A comforting silence fills the kitchen, the only sounds you can hear are casual sippings coming from the table and the hissing of the pancake mix against the pan. For years, all you have ever wanted was to spend peaceful days such as these with the man you love. It has taken a while and the near destruction of all life on Earth, but you can finally relax and make him some breakfast.

You flip the pancakes a couple more times to make sure that they are perfectly golden on both sides before placing them on top of the stack, a bottle of syrup next to the plate. You readjust the stack slightly before turning around and taking a couple of steps forward, placing the plate in front of Reiner and for a second you could have sworn that you heard his stomach growling.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, a massive and gentle smile stamped on his face and you nod, making your way back to the stove to prepare some sort of breakfast meat. Though you fully expect him to start digging in, you can hear the chair moving backward and his heavy footsteps making their way toward you. 

A quiet giggle escapes from your chest once his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him. His breath on the back of your neck causes a few goosebumps to rise and you lean your head backward against him, “that tickles.”

The two of you stay in silence like that for what feels like forever and like not nearly enough time. His breathing is steady against your skin as he takes in the comforting scent of your favorite body wash. You can tell there is something on his mind that he is struggling to find the words to express, so you just wait patiently until he is ready.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and says what he’s been meaning to.

“My mother asked me the other day if we ever plan on having kids of our own,” he says quietly but, in that moment, you feel like he screamed the words at the top of his lungs. Your body goes stiff against his touch before a few trembles erupt, some of them nearly strong enough to cause you to drop the pan in your hand. Of course, this sudden shift doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he immediately tightens his grip around you, “Are you ok? Do you feel sick? Here, maybe you should sit down for a while.”

"What did you say?" You try to pretend the comment hasn't impacted you as much as it did, but the faltering in your voice is clear evidence that something is wrong. Your vision clouds slightly and you can barely make out his figure standing not too far from you.

The truth is that, even before you and Reiner got together, before you even met him, you had decided that you had no interest in having kids. Sure, the thought did cross your mind once the two of you started dating, but ultimately you decided that this life was not for you. The topic never quite came up so you didn’t have a reason to tell Reiner about it.

So now that the moment has come, now that it is time to have this conversation, you can’t help but panic. You have had this discussion in your mind a thousand times, overanalyzed every possible scenario, every little reaction he might have, and even planned out spots where the two of you could talk. But the kitchen first thing in the morning was not on your list.

His grip on your waist is firm as he guides you towards the dining table at the edge of the kitchen, your legs trembling slightly as you take several unsure steps. At this point, you aren’t even sure anymore if your body is the one doing the walking or if Reiner is just carrying you toward the seat.

There is a panic in his eyes that you haven’t seen in years and it makes your heart ache, “let me at least get you some water.” As he pulls away, your desperate hands grab hold of the edge of his shirt, your eyes fixated on the floor as he stands in place, unsure whether to turn around to face you or to continue moving towards the fridge.

“Stay,” you whisper and he nods. Silence once again fills the room, like the world might end if you even open your mouth to say a single word. Your heart beats a thousand miles per hour, 

He takes a seat next to you at the table, one hand touching your thigh while the other holds your own, his thumb brushing above your knuckles in a feather-like touch. His sheer presence is enough to soothe most of your worries, your anxiety melting away. Until he begins speaking again, that is.

“Please, tell me what is wrong,” he begs. The desperation in his eyes is genuine and you can see that he means well. The sound of his voice is so gentle, you could nearly mistake it for a lullaby. When your eyes remain on the ground and no words leave your mouth, he continues to plead, “I want… I… You can trust me. I love you so dearly. Have… Have I done something wrong?”

You widen your eyes and you desperately shake your head. The thought that he is blaming himself for how you are reacting to the situation nearly breaks your heart, the lump in your throat grows by the second as the words keep dying before they even have the chance to come out. 

“Y-You don’t understand,” you stutter, your body is still trembling and your voice is faltering, but you can’t let him feel guilty for something he didn’t do, “It’s not you! I-It has never been you!” “Then, please…” He flashes you with those hazel eyes, a wave of guilt and overwhelming love rushing over your body with every single beat of your aching heart, “Talk to me.”

“I’m… I.. R-Reiner, I…” You stutter, unable to fully express your emotions to him for the first time in who knows how long. But when he notices the slight tremble in your hands, he moves closer, his fingers lacing with yours before he places your palm above his heart, the careful beating slowly soothing your nerves, “I’m not sure… No, I AM sure that I don’t want children.”

In response, he lets go of your hand and stands up, taking a step back. You can feel your heart about to shatter, the tears threatening to fall down your face and your knees about to give out, but he lets out a laugh, a heartfelt laughter that comes from deep within his throat.

He finds himself bending over the table, his stomach hurting from laughing as he smacks his fist against the surface. You go through several emotions at once and so many questions go through your mind:

Confusion: “Why is he laughing? And why is he laughing so hard? Is the thought that you wouldn’t want kids so funny to him that he has to laugh to keep himself sane? You knew Reiner had always wanted children, but you hadn’t realized he wanted them bad enough that it would diminish his love for you?”

Anger: “Who the hell does he think he is to be behaving this way when you just shared such personal information and something you had kept to yourself for as long as you can remember? Does he think you are worth less just because you don’t want to be a mother? Or is he acting like this because you, God forbid, remind him of his own mother?”

Sadness: “Are you not good enough for him? Is he under the impression that your love for him can only be measured by how much you would like to have his children? Is he suddenly like your family, who always assumed you would change your mind whenever you fell in love with the “right man?”

Confusion again: “Why the FUCK is he laughing?”

You clench your jaw, fists tighten as your nails nearly dig into your palms, you can feel your face heating up while tears of frustration burn in your eyes. You want to yell at him, to give him a piece of his mind and storm right out of this kitchen, maybe even throw the pancakes at his face, but before you have the chance to do anything, he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, his certain footsteps in your direction closing the distance between your bodies before his meaty arms come crashing against your waist, “Oh, I thought you were going to tell me that you don’t love me anymore or that you had an affair. No, I don’t care about having kids.”

His words catch you off guard, the whiplash being so intense that you find yourself stumbling backward towards the chair once again before taking a seat. Your voice dies in your throat repeatedly before you finally gather up enough courage to speak, “B-but… I’ve seen the way you act around children, the way all the women around us are constantly telling you what a great father you would be.”

Moving at a gentle pace, almost as if you were an injured and scared animal, Reiner takes your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing above your knuckles as his warm smile never falters. You can tell he is doing the best he can to bring you any sort of comfort in this moment and you can’t help but allow your heart to be filled with gratitude.

“It would be nice to have a kid of my own, especially after basically raising Gabi and Falco but,” he brings your hand up to his lips and plants a gentle kiss on your skin, “I would only ever want a child with the woman I love and, well, that happens to be you.”

You can’t help but allow a small sob to leave your lips, a sudden wave of guilt about to rush over you, a fear that you are holding him back from having something he had always desired. But before your spiral can get too far down, he brings one of his hands towards your cheek, his fingers brushing a couple tears out of the way as he continues to speak.

“A child between us is theoretical,” he whispers, “but the love I have for you is the most real thing I have ever known in my entire life. And if having a life with you means no kids, then that’s fine by me. The only thing I have ever needed has been and it will always be your love.”

His hand gently touches your cheek, the warmth of his body calling your name as you take a step closer. Your arms gain a mind of their own and immediately wrap themselves around his neck, earning a delighted and approving hum from him. His palms move from your face as they find their way towards your waist, holding onto the bones of your hips tightly.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, desperate for your consent, a hint of fear behind his deep voice. You nod, a smile taking over your features as you place your forehead against his. He tightens his grip around you, enough that it might leave marks, terrified that you will disappear the second you are out of his reach. 

The minute your lips touch, the whole world seems to stop. Your kiss fits together like two pieces of a perfect puzzle, meant to be together side by side as they form a clear picture of happiness. His beard prickles your face and usually, you would consider the feeling a nightmare, but for some reason, it feels ever so comforting at this moment.

The tip of his tongue brushes against yours, teasingly asking for entrance. Not an ounce of sexual tension between the two of you at this moment, just two souls who were meant to be together, two hearts that beat at the same pace.

Reiner’s lips are soft, a direct contrast with the roughness of his hands. His blonde hair gently rests against his forehead, though it does touch your own the deeper the kiss gets, tickling your skin in a comforting manner. His breath tastes like toothpaste still and that is the only thing that serves as a reminder of the freshly made breakfast that awaits the two of you.

So you pull away reluctantly, still peppering his lips in kisses before you take a seat at the table. You can see a pout forming on his face but, when you point at the food, it immediately turns into a warm and excited smile.

“Is there a reason why you don’t want kids?” He asks, taking a seat at the table and taking a sip out of his drink. You lift your eyes to meet his, his hand scratching his chin and you can hear the scratchy sound of the small patches of beard that are beginning to form around his face. There is no judgment whatsoever in his voice.

“Not really,” you respond, bringing the coffee mug towards your lips while handing him the syrup, “I just never found the idea appealing. Do you think your mom will have a problem with that?”

He thinks for a moment before shaking his head, “I think she understands the feeling of ‘not wanting to be a mother’ better than anyone I know.” There’s an underlying hint of sadness in his tone, the air filling with the sounds of the fork and knife colliding against the plate as he takes a bite of his food, so you rub your foot against his shin. Once he swallows and flashes you a smile, he continues, “Besides, it’s not like it would be her baby, anyway. She’ll learn how to deal.”

You can’t help but chuckle, a warm sensation forming in your chest as you realize just how much he loves you. Reiner loves you just for who you are: every flaw, every talent, every random knowledge you tell him at three in the morning, every little detail. To him, you are and will always be more than enough.

[neuroprincess]

Broken Rules - Larissa Weems/Female Reader

Larissa Weems/Female Reader

Summary: An unfair deal, that's all Y/N gets from Larissa and was enough until it wasn't anymore. After a few glasses of wine and sudden courage she questions the woman, this could work or ruin everything for good.

Classification: +18, Angst, Slight Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, arguing, harsh words, swearing, slight sex, injury, denial of feelings, unrequited love, jealousy, hurt/comfort

Word count: +6400

Unrevised

There are three essential rules for this deal, in black and white, very clear imposed since the first night they spent together. The third is crystal clear, not least, never spend the night, this one is understandable considering the academy and how awkward a teacher leaving the principal's living quarters so early would be. That's the excuse Y/N gives herself every time she has to sneak through the halls of Nevermore in the middle of the night. Second rule, never tell anyone. This kills her inside, in these months all she wants to do in good and bad moments is to share with someone about how she feels, not even with the blonde can she talk because it would imply the first and most important rule. No falling in love, which means they don't talk about anything but professional matters, they don't kiss unless they are having sex and that is all Y/N can get out of this deal. Sex. Stress relief. Sometimes some sexual gift, nothing personal.  

The teacher repeats the rules mentally as she serves herself with a glass of wine, standing with back to her mistress who finishes paperwork at the office desk. Well, she arrived at the appointed time, but Larissa ended up delaying some important matters and now has to finish. Y/N asked if she should leave, receiving only a negative nod. The week was more exhausting than usual, a visit from a couple of parents for an unexpected situation, some student managed to break the plumbing of the bathroom sink and a gorgon accidentally petrified his friend, all problems that earned her complex resolutions, headache and extra paperwork to fill out. 

"So, why the parents came here?" she asks, still not turning around, putting the bottle in the same place and raising the glass to lips, sipping the sweet liquid "Both Nikolas and Lucinda are great kids." 

"They really are, but none of their families support the relationship between vampires and werewolves. Nothing that you, being a normie, understand."  

"Well, I may not be an outcast, but I live with them every day and I am in this world. You are one of those who advocates harmony between normies and outcasts, I don't understand..."  

"It's not the same thing." the blonde says simply and shrugs, her tone of voice unchanged, eyes still fixed on the printed words.  

Y/N huffs and takes a generous sip of wine, feeling the burning in the throat from alcohol, sorrow and a little bit of anger. She stares at her boss, clothes perfectly clean and well ironed, the red lipstick highlighting her fleshy lips, hair styled, long fingers wandering across the surface and blue eyes standing out in the whole scene, literally a sight to take breath away and maybe the rest of the sanity the younger still possesses after swallowing the entire contents of the glass in seconds. The glass is filled again and soon is empty, this repeats until she drinks the fourth in a row, the burning no longer bothers her, the heat rises through her body, head spins for a millisecond before turning to face Larissa again. She sighs and walks at a slow pace until she is in front of the large desk, her mind once full of things to say slowly becoming blank, void, just as it always is around the tall woman. Perhaps this is the spell and reason for them to continue in this unfair deal, it's like the white witch has put a spell on the simple peasant human, who would kiss her feet in adoration. 

"What?" Weems asks raising her gaze for the first time since the other entered the room, a little annoyed by the sudden proximity "Did you drink before coming here?" the teacher just denies with a nod, continuing to stare at her with a neutral expression "So why do you look like shit? You know, I don't care, as long as you didn't show up in front of the students like that."  

The words sound normal to her, but to Y/N it's a painful feeling in the chest similar to an anvil being thrown, hurts, weighs down and she can't move staying in the same place. The neutral expression falls apart, eyes instantly getting watery and whole face burning as she fights the imminent cry, in fact she only realizes she is crying when a drop hits the document in front of her, the first of many that start to fall even though she tries to contain them. She knows she doesn't look like shit but at most blushing after drinking. There is no way she looks like shit because between the end of classes and going to the principal's office passed by her own dorm to get ready, try to look impeccable for their weekly "date", put on her new dress bought a few weeks ago on a visit to Jericho, touched up the daily makeup, brushed hair and put on her favorite perfume, the only one that didn't make Larissa complain.  

"Y/N?" the voice is low and nonchalant when she calls her, with a hint of concern that goes unnoticed.  

"I don't look like shit...I've tidied myself up, my hair is in place, I'm smelling good.... Why the hell do you hate me?" she asks finally after trying to defend herself uselessly, they are simply unimportant words when a dull expression takes over the blonde's face and then surprise at the question "You always act like I'm inferior, then say I look like shit and accuse me of getting drunk around the students, something I would never do because I love and respect them. Am I such a cheap person to you?"

"I didn't mean that..."  

"Then what did you mean?" the question is angry, totally emotional, and the voice comes out ragged, raw with genuine desire to understand the other woman.  

"Y/N, you are on dangerous ground, this is against our deal." Larissa says gently after pulling herself together from the initial shock "Don't do something you'll regret."  

"Damn, so that's what I am to you? I try to lie to myself that I am someone for you, someone you can.... Just can..." she tries to find words that get stuck in the throat and mind turns to blank mist again when she realizes that the principal is staring at her, an almost smile rising on lips, not a smile of encouragement, seems almost cruel like a hunter waiting for the hare to fall into the trap and the younger would not give her this taste or reason to smile "I am and always will be just sex for you, right?" the blonde just nods in agreement "Right." 

The teacher just nods while kneeling, which leaves the taller one momentarily confused until she finds her crawling to the middle of her legs, no longer caring about the condition of the dress, makeup drips down cheeks, eyes are distant and face is flushed, not in a positive way, now Y/N looks like shit and it's not a good feeling knowing she's the cause of it. Something presses Larissa's chest making the smile that was rising die instantly. Everything is too fast, the usually gentle fingers of the younger are quick and imprecise, desperate to lift the gray dress up to waist length. The woman lifts her hips helping, soon the lace panties are exposed, framing the path between the long pale legs. The fabric is just set aside as the head disappears under the table and fabric of the dress, the principal's hands grab a handful of the girl's hair pulling her to herself hoping to feel more pleasure, but there is nothing but a shiver and the slight sensation, she simply cannot delight in the skilled tongue circling the clit, nor touches that usually make her melt. A nagging sensation seeps into her chest and stomach churns, even as she closes the eyes trying to erase the pitiful image of the younger, unsuccessfully, the blotchy and weeping face invades her mind, it's intrusive and strangely... painful. Blue eyes open, she stares into the ceiling mirror feeling a little nauseous at the sight and a hand pulls Y/N's hair back, stopping her from continuing, also making her unbalanced falling on the floor and hitting the back of head against the wooden end of the desk. She just groans in pain, confused in a drunken state and not understanding exactly what had just happened.  

"What is it?" she asks taking a her own hand to head where it hurts, a little surprised to find the part slightly moist, but she doesn't care, everything hurts and that's the lesser of it "Isn't that what you wanted?!"  

"It was, actually it is. But not like this. Clean yourself up first, look decent."  

"So I have to look decent to fuck you? Got it." Y/N laughs humorlessly but stands up to do it, hands resting on the woman's thighs to stand without caring that she is being ignored, the blonde looks at some specific spot on the wall avoiding looking down "I'll be right back." she walks with slow steps to the bathroom attached to the office, closing the door behind her.  

"Shit!" Larissa lets out the air she didn't even realize was holding and lowers her gaze, the memory of the girl there still present, a shiver runs through her body and eyes widen as she notices contrasting crimson on the pale knees, the perfect mark of fingers stamping across skin. She barely has time to think about it as the sound of something falling in the bathroom makes her jump out of the chair "Y/N?" without an answer. 

She waits a few seconds still unanswered until walking quickly to the bathroom, opening the door without knocking or asking for again, extremely relieved to find the younger bent over the sink rubbing her face with the running water, black mascara staining the white sink, a little red mixed in. A decorative plant is scattered on the floor, that is the less important thing. The image scares Weems, she freezes in place for an instant and the next is running around the bathroom looking for a towel or something that can wipe the head of her, grabbing a white hand towel from the cabinet. Without a second thought she pushes Y/N lightly, opening space so she can moisten the cloth and gently presses it where the injury was.  

"What are you doing?" the teacher asks confused as she lifts the face, finally seeing her condition clearly in the reflection of the mirror, feeling even more miserable.  

"You hurt your head..."  

"And? Not like it matters." she shrugs, grabbing another towel from the cabinet to dry her face, wiping the last remnants of makeup off "You can drop it and go back to your place, I just need a moment."  

The woman drops the towel and walks away with hands outstretched in surrender, almost rolling the eyes at such stubbornness.  

"I'm going back to the paperwork, you can go to your dorm."  

 "You don't want to anymore?" Y/N asks with head down, not having the courage to look her in the eye.  

"No." she replies simply and walks away, her conscience seemingly clear that she seems to be physically fine despite everything. 

She sits down in the chair again, staring at nothing, and eyes wander to the table in the corner of the office, the bottle of wine reserved for the night practically empty. That explains everything. Y/N is weak to alcohol, one glass is enough for her to be a complete mess for the rest of the night, one bottle can be... terrible. After two minutes without any movement or sign of life from inside the bathroom the worry takes over, what if she fell in the bathroom? No, there would be noise. Or she sat down and lost consciousness? If she is feeling sick... Larissa interrupts her own thoughts trying to tell herself that Y/N is a grown woman and can handle it, while she can barely control the panic with the idea that something serious is happening. It is a bloody cut, the one on the back of the head, one of the most fragile and dangerous places to hit. She is brought out of thoughts when she hears the door being opened, immediately looking for the younger and sees her struggling to walk, barefoot with the shoes in one hand and the other holding the towel. Face now clean, hair pinned up and she looks a little more sober, only looks, because legs cross each step, causing her to almost fall over after losing the support of the door frame. 

"Leave me..." she whispers when feels the presence of the other woman, who has run in stride to support her "I'll handle this on my own."  

"Fuck off, stop being stubborn." the tall takes her in arms ignoring the protests to leave her on the floor and walks quickly to the other door attached to the office, this one leads to a private bedroom "Be quiet." she says harshly when the younger doesn't stop complaining, trying to get out of her arms. That manages to make silence reign.  

Everything goes by like a blur, Y/N being placed on the soft bed, large elegant hands working to push the hair aside so that the severity of the injury can be checked, to great relief discovering it to be something superficial, but still needed some extra care. The small cut is carefully cleaned with cotton, saline and antiseptic, then gently dried, Larissa improvises a bandage with gauze and adhesive tape. The pain makes the girl moan from time to time, no matter how hard she tries to hold herself together it's almost impossible, the drunkenness that washes over her body also takes away any extra resistance. When the bandage is finished she tries to get up, being stopped by the same hands that took care, making her sit against the mattress again. They stare at each other for a few seconds before the older one turns her face away not supporting the eye contact.   

"Now can I leave?" Y/N asks after a few minutes of awkward silence.  

"No. Lie down." the blonde orders and gets up, walking to the closet from where she pulls out extra pillows and blankets, when turning around she almost drops everything on the floor at the sight "Please, put your clothes back on."  

Y/N props herself up on elbows and stares at her confused, sex is the only thing Larissa wants from her, she has made that clear many times and half an hour ago too. It's just sex. That's what sums up the "relationship" and the reason for the deal that makes her days miserable. And in the same night the woman denies it twice, in fact now seems even disgusted to look at her. She rises feeling defeat coursing inside, from flesh to bone, everything hurts, but nothing compares to the pain that forms in her chest every second she spends in this place. Soon her underwear and dress are put back on, the fabric already crumpled, a bit mismatched, very different from how it was before.  

"Here." the principal places two pillows on the left side of the bed, fluffing them and indicating with a hand for the other to lie down, which she does without asking questions despite the extremely confused look, as if it were nothing more than a strange dream "You need to stay awake for at least an hour, to make sure it was nothing more serious, after that you can go. " the younger just nods, carefully laying down, a groan of pain escapes as head reaches the pillow, soon a pill is placed in front of her "Painkiller." 

"Is it dipyrone?"  

 "No, ibuprofen, I know you are allergic to dipyrone."  

"Thank you."  

"Okay." Larissa shrugs and walks to the other side of the bed, sitting up "You know we can't continue after today, right?!"  

"Why?" her voice comes out broken, a lump forming in the throat at the mere thought of not being with the woman anymore, even if only for sex.  

"We broke the rules, you talked about feelings, I took care of you and now I'm letting you spend the night, none of that is part of the deal." they don't look each other in the eye for different reasons, the blonde sighs before continuing "That breaks the idea of friends with benefits."  

"To be friends with benefits we should be friends in the first place, but I don't think we ever were. You despise me." Y/N whispers bitterly and turns away, she would not give the other the pleasure of seeing her cry.  

"You're right."  

Time passes torturously slowly, Y/N tries not to cry again, which becomes impossible with the indifference and tension that builds more and more every second, then concentrates on not letting it become obvious, holding back sobs and shaking body. Everything hurts, face, chest, hands gripping hard on the pillow and an annoying headache, despite having taken ibuprofen earlier. For an hour and a half Larissa calls her sporadically to check if she is awake or not, occasionally asking if she feels nauseous or anything else, soon discovering that these are symptoms of post-drinking so she stops asking little by little until is completely quiet. That's when the teacher finally falls asleep, the blonde and usually kind (to others) principal in her mind, still trying not to believe it's over. Trying to fool herself with the idea, maybe the slightest possibility, that it's a nightmare where everything they had just slipped through her fingers because of a bottle of wine. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A week later Y/N finds herself running through the halls of Nevermore, dressed impeccably in a casual women's suit set in her favorite color, high heels tapping against the floor, hair brushed presentably, makeup light and she was glad to finally have the bandage off, it would surely spoil the perfect look to finally meet her students' parents. It has been six months of preparation for this moment, of course there are parents who were not very receptive to the idea of their children being taught by a simple normie who was not even raised in Jericho, just as there were those who supported her hiring and seem equally excited to meet her. Parents' Weekend is the opportunity to do that. She stops in front of the door and sighs, smoothing the fabric of the suit so that it is totally flawless, then smoothed the thin tank top under the blazer, for some reason it seems to be looser against the chest and dangerously close to the edge of the neckline, a few necklaces adorning majestically. The teacher knows she should be feeling fabulous with this look and the greetings she has rehearsed for hours memorized, but nothing takes her away from the miserable state she has been in for a week since she woke up alone in Weems' bedroom, with only a note on the bedside recommending that she go to the doctor and the best way out, without the danger of being seen, would be through the side door. Since then she has been trying to pull herself together, which means trying to avoid the woman as much as possible until it stops hurting.  

"You can do it, Y/N. You can take anything for 10 seconds, so just start over and everything will work out." she whispers to herself, closing the eyes in concentration "Allons-y!"  

And it all worked out, better than she could have imagined, the principal was nowhere to be seen, at least not in her field of vision. The first parents to show any interest were a vampire's parents, of the youngest, who complimented her highly on how she helped him adjust away from home, the three greeted each other happily before a gentle conversation. Which caught the attention of another vampire family, these were quieter, but equally kind. After an hour of the event she couldn't even count on fingers how many parents she managed to talk to and captivate, all making clear that despite initial reservations they had a good surprise and results with her hiring. This cheered the younger up a bit, at least something seems to be working out in her life, it's that saying, lucky in gambling and unlucky in love. 

"So you are the beautiful young lady my son talks so much about?" a voice comes up behind her after saying goodbye to Ajax's parents, when she turns around finds a tall man with striking features, sculpted body highlighted by the cut of his suit and a pair of mesmerizing chocolate eyes "Lucien Corbyn..." 

"Elijah's father?!" the parental connection between them is obvious, the boy being a souped up image of him "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Corbyn! Your son is a great student and very kind." she extends a hand expecting the man to shake, being surprised by the touch of his rough hand leading hers to his lips, where he leaves a lingering kiss, staring her in the eyes the whole time.  

"The pleasure is all mine." he whispers and smiles lowering his hand, still holding hers "Of course Eli is, he's my son and was raised by me...only me. All credit to his father." and blinks, trying to hint that he is a solo and consequently single father  

"I'm not surprised, you two are so much alike. Strong genes." Y/N comments nonchalantly, not realizing how this affects the instinct of the werewolf, who raises an eyebrow feeling audacious and also lucky to have finally found the perfect woman after the former wife's leaving.  

She may not have noticed, but the tall woman across the courtyard did and felt extremely uncomfortable at the sight, Larissa was present at the event the entire time, the first 40 minutes spent solving small problems and talking to the parents who donate money to the academy funds. Trying to be as invisible as possible, at the same time her eyes were always on her, the girl who torments days and takes away sleep at night with the simple fact of existing. Sometimes she got lost in the topic of some parent because her focus was too much on the teacher interacting with the families and giving attention to each one of them, after she pulled herself together, she excused and tried to dissipate it from mind, uselessly, since in the next second she was already doing the same thing. And she mentally thanked for repeating the behavior. Corbyn is a wealthy werewolf, leader of the wolf pack, they went to university together, in fact the man was a great conqueror until he married and had the son, but werewolves like big families, have lots of children to make the pack bigger, and he has made it clear in the last two years that he is in search of another mate to give him that.  

She greets the mother of some siren she can't even remember the name of, and walks slowly over to where the pair are talking, watching the interaction from a distance. Lucien still holds her hand, his other hand caressing her elbow, but Y/N barely notices because she is too excited talking about his son, one of the favorite children. His eyes are no longer on her face, the blonde can see the lust stamped on the werewolf's face as he stares at a lower point, the teacher's breasts. The two mounds are partially exposed by the neckline of the tank top she wears under her blazer, showing flushed skin and a small part of her lace bra, shit, even she can't look away and has been there, she knows every detail by heart, the softness to the touch, the nipples and how sensitive they can be tearing out sinful moans. Everything about her is sinful and Larissa was once the greatest sinner. As approaches she unconsciously takes off the gray coat, which is landing on Y/N's shoulders in seconds, she is startled by the touch and almost cannot believe it when she hears the familiar voice beside her, nor that the soft delicate gloved hands she misses so much are around shoulders holding her tightly, if it were someone else she might say it feels like a possessive touch.  

"I believe Elijah is expecting his father to spend time with him and not with the teacher." she says with venom in voice, a huge fake smile on the lips, staring at his hand hoping the man gets the hint.  

"You are right, Principal Weems. I am here for my little wolf." Corbyn agrees with an even more fake smile as he understands the message, instead of letting her go he squeezes the hand even tighter and brings it to his lips again "I hope to see you soon, beautiful young lady. The pack can't wait to host a dinner on your behalf." he winks and finally lets her go, looking directly at the blonde "See you later, Principal!" and doesn't get a response.  

Y/N keeps a neutral expression until Lucien disappears from sight soon after finding his son in the crowd and as soon as she doesn't see him uses the arms to try to get rid of the coat, but the long arms stop her and Larissa turn around so that they are face to face, without saying anything she adjusts the piece against the girl's body, covering her breasts and then fastens the buttons quickly. They stare at each other in the process, feeling the strangeness of the moment hit the pit of their stomachs, one feeling nauseous and the other boiling with anger inside, sunk in a feeling similar to jealousy, even if she denies it to herself.  

"It's cold." she says shrugging and adjusts the collar of the coat, not failing to notice how big this looks on Y/N, like a big fancy dress, it's almost.. cute to look at.  

"I have coats, you can have yours back." her voice comes out in a whisper and she tries to take off the coat again, but is stopped by the taller one, arms wrapping around her again so she doesn't do that "Principal Weems..."  

"Let's go inside."  

Before she can refuse she feels herself being held by the hand and dragged across the courtyard, barely able to keep up with the woman's steps, partly because of the height difference and also the heavy piece of clothing larger than her, which drags along the ground, none of them caring. On the way some parents observe the scene, from curious to pitying looks, thinking that maybe the teacher was in trouble for some reason, none of them had seen this angry expression on the principal's face before. She just lowers the gaze as just lets be led, knowing that there is no point in arguing, making a scene in front of parents is the last thing she wants.  

"What the hell were you thinking flirting with a student's father?" Larissa asks loudly, holding herself back from screaming, once they enter her office.  

"I wasn't..."  

"Yes, you were. Corbyn is the leader of a wolf pack, an alpha looking for a wife and someone to have his little wolves." she interrupts the younger angrily dumping the facts on the table.  

"And?" the answer is simple and mocking, increasing the tension in the room. The blue eyes fill with more anger.  

"You don't really know the werewolves, the alphas...they are...you are more than that. More than a trophy to exhibit, than a... breeding slut." the words coming out of her mouth surprises them both, vulgar language compared to her exquisite vocabulary.  

"What if marriage and children is something I want? At least Lucien would treat me well, not even hide me." Y/N teases and shrugs, even though she is completely disgusted inside at the idea of that man touching her in this way, besides, she really doesn't know much about werewolves and the classes of the species "And maybe I would be loved."  

In less than a second she finds herself practically lying on the armchair with the woman's body on top of hers, kneeling on the floor not caring about the expensive dress, faces inches apart, warm breath against lips and their eyes meet once again, there is fragility in both, many buried feelings suddenly showing. One hand of Larissa's holds the smaller wrist to the top of the armchair, above head, and the other lands below thigh, lifting the leg for the younger to wrap around her waist, so she does instinctively. 

"I can give you all of this, right now if you want me to." the older whispers without leaving her eyes, for the first time since they met she showed some vulnerability and to their surprise tears emerged, falling down her face faster than it came "Y/N, I can and want to give you all of this, whatever you wish."  

"Then why?" she is confused and shocked, for the past few months the thing she wished most is that someday hopefully her feelings would be reciprocated, receiving only coldness and indifference, accepting the crumbs of the deal they had, it was enough until no more, "Larissa, you despised me for months, as if I was nothing, invisible, even professionally, doubting my abilities just for being a normie. You made me feel...worthless, unworthy of love."  

"And I'm miserable for doing that to you, it was never my intention, but when I realized I was already putting up barriers and more barriers to keep you away, yet I couldn't. My romantic past is terrible, I've been hurt a lot by people whom I gave myself to and trusted blindly. For a blind person, as I was, pushing you away and hurting you seemed better than letting myself be hurt once again. I know, that's no excuse for all the shit I put you through. But I was broken emotionally when I met you, so that's why..." the principal stops talking when she feels Y/N's free hand gently wipe away her tears, thumb resting on the now flushed cheeks "I'm not trying to justify it, but I really was afraid to let you in, then when you were gone I realized that being afraid of losing you is bigger, also hurts more. That night I cried hiding in the office after you slept and uselessly tried to convince myself that it was the best thing for both of us, even if it was burning me up inside. And now that I saw that disgusting man touching you hurt like hell, I realized that I can't stand the idea of someone else being in your life like that."  

"I..." 

"Please forgive me, you were never worthless, I never despised you, never thought you were any of that, fuck, I don't even care that you are normie and I hired you precisely because you are fucking bright, a great teacher and role model for our students. I just can't say I'm sorry for being an asshole and for all the cruel words I've said, if you want I'll wash my mouth out with soap. Y/N, listen very attentively to my words now." Larissa leaves the wrist and long fingers run across the girl's face, admiring every detail, feeling her chest heavy as she remembers that damn night when she was a complete idiot, hurt her in so many ways and made her cry, when she thought lost her forever "You are worthy of all the love in the world, all the happiness, all the affection and you deserve only good things, I made a lot of mistakes, I was the worst person. But..." she sighs and tries to wipe the new wave of tears, anxiety taking over mind and heart "Can you give me a chance? To reward you and show you how much I appreciate you, if you want the world I'll try to give you just to show how deeply I love you."  

"You what?" both are shocked at the sudden declaration.  

"I..." red painted lips quiver and her eyes become clearer, like crystal water, Y/N sees the pure truth about her feelings behind them "I love you." she finally says, word for word, loud and clear.  

"I love you too." the younger whispers, those words meaning more than that, it's forgiveness. They draw closer and slowly bring their lips together.   

It's gentle and soft, as if this is the first time and they are discovering each other, very different from the real first time their lips touched months before, which led them to start everything. Neither can believe that this is really happening, or how amazing they feel with a simple kiss after having done so much more than that before. Lips move in sync, hearts racing and they engage in a tight hug, the blonde's arms taking the smaller body to herself, holding her lovingly by the waist and the back of neck. What makes Y/N groan in pain between the kiss, they separate momentarily only for Larissa to check if she is okay, that injury haunted her for a whole week, only reassured after threatening the doctor to tell about the health condition of her beloved. She soon discovers that the teacher is fine, as she is pulled in by Y/N to continue kissing, this time more intense, tongues meet immediately, feeling and exploring each other's mouths with affection and desire, so much desire that makes the skin burn, feverish with love. It's a kiss that is full of all the feelings hidden for months, of the pain they have gone through in different ways, but about the same thing, the desire to be together. 

"What are we now?" Y/N asks as soon as their lips part and they are looking at each other again, this time instead of tears there are genuine and almost shy smiles "And what are we doing?"  

"Well, I was planning to take you on a date and propose formally..."  

 "Really, Weems? I thought your silly hand was driving us to another thing..." she points to the long fingers under the coat, between the fabric of her tank top and the waistband of the pants.  

"I'm sorry." she is about to take the hand away from there, but is stopped and feels the soft lips against hers again in a quick kiss.  

"It's okay..." the buttons are slowly unbuttoned, the tank top showing and when Larissa moves closer to kiss her the fabric is accidentally pulled, exposing even more breasts along with the lace bra that almost drove the principal crazy earlier.  

"If I didn't know you I'd say it was all planned." the two laugh and the taller one nods in denial, then pulls on the coat wrapping herself in it, bodies pretty much attached inside "Please, never let Lucien come near you like that again. Just seeing him touching and looking at you like that made me boil inside, I wanted to kill him."  

"He wouldn't have come close if I already belonged to someone."  

"Fair enough. And that brings us to the previous question, are we more than girlfriends?" the blonde asks a little fearfully afraid she's jumping the gun, they've been sleeping together for about six months now, but under her stupid terms, fruits of damn insecurity "Or...?"  

"We are whatever we want to be." she thinks of an objective answer, but not even she, who has always wanted this relationship, knows how to define what they have.  

"Then you will be mine, in every way. Body, soul, and mind." they intertwine fingers and Larissa has to fight back new tears when the other nods in agreement, the fear of speaking this fading, her heart speeds up even more "We have a lot to fix, I have a lot to make up for, but I want to be better for you, to be worthy to call you girlfriend and one day wife."  

"You are already worthy, you just didn't know it." Y/N whispers with emotion in voice, fighting back her own tears as she faces the woman she loves in the same state, their heads touch and both close eyes just enjoying the moment, feeling the calm after the storm "It's okay now."  

"It's okay now." she agrees opening a smile and they gap a little, staring at each other "Damn, I can't believe I finally had the courage to say I love you." 

"Neither do I, it's like you're a different Larissa, a better Rissa, who talks, gives affection, knows how to express yourself." the younger's hands run down the principal's neck and rest on the soft face, caressing cheek, then the temple, eyebrows, nose, chin and finally the fleshy lips that quiver at the gentle touch "And love me."  

Their lips come together again in a delicate and emotional kiss, still a new feeling to be able to touch and be like this after all they have been through. What they are doing is no longer relieving stress or satisfy horniness trying to control all the built up sexual tension, there are no sloppy kisses, rushed hands, cold touches and even less the usual neglect. It's exactly the opposite of that, affection is conveyed with every touch and the kisses seem simply addictive, like they could live this moment forever and if at some point they parted it would fade away, just like their dreams before.  

"I knew I couldn't kiss you this way before or I would fall to my knees in love..." Larissa murmurs between the kiss and points to how she stands in front of the armchair, on knees between her legs, hands holding her "And I was right."  

"You're such an idiot, Rissa." they smile and the blonde pulls her around the waist, rubbing hips against Y/N's intimacy, both moan at the friction "My Rissa..."  

"Only yours. And you only mine."  

"I have never been so happy to break rules in my life."  

"And I thank you for it."  

They feel deep happiness and peace, nothing matters around, Parents' Weekend, not even the rowdy students, this is their moment. As soon as their lips touch again calmness hangs over heads, there is no more fear, pain or anything like that, just the feeling of being realized and complete after letting love speak louder.  

"I love you, Y/N..." 

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