#i can’t figure out what the other ship names might be

[hlficlibrary]

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🩷 Light, Spark and Fire (series) by green_feelings / @greenfeelings {E, 239k}

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

🩷 Say Something by @kingsofeverything {E, 105k}

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

🩷 Ace of Spades (series) by @allwaswell16 {E, 90k}

Living as a sheltered omega in a farming village has not prepared Harry for life aboard the most notorious pirate ship to sail the Atlantic.

Or Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

🩷 The Pros and Cons of Breathing by @hellolovers13 {E, 81k}

Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday, so when he's betrothed to Prince Louis, he's anxious about having to leave his life behind, but hopeful for a happy marriage.

The hope doesn't last long, with his husband avoiding him at all costs and Harry being left to fend for himself.

Can he find happiness even in a broken marriage?

🩷 I like the way you say my name (when you soak it in grace) by louisismycat / @liminalkittyfics {E, 73k}

“It’s like I’m fucking orbiting around you, you know? Like you’re some huge, beautiful planet, and I’m a piece of space junk lucky enough to be pulled in by you somehow, and now I can’t leave, even if I wanted to. And I really fucking don’t want to leave.”

OR Louis is transferred to a new city to temporarily cover for his counterpart while he is on maternity leave for the next six months.

His new co-workers talk endlessly about Harry, the omega who he’s covering for. And Louis finds himself jealous of whatever alpha as snatched him up.

Until he learns Harry is actually an unmated omega three months out from becoming a single parent.

🩷 Si Pudiera Volar by @softfonds {E, 69k}

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

🩷 Little by Little by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 65k}

Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes.

Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

🩷 and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain {E, 56k}

Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. But things are not always what they seem and a past grievance may change the lives of everyone involved forever.

🩷 Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren {E, 42k}

Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

🩷 crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger {G, 41k}

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next.What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

🩷 Endgame by @brightgolden {E, 38k}

Harry has been told all his life how grateful he should be for being born as a male omega, and how blessed their people were because the heir to the throne would be carried by The King.

What they neglected to tell Harry was what would happen if he failed to become pregnant.

OR

Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

🩷 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter {M, 38k}

His mum is going to kill him!

Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.

She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.

But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.

Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.

He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

🩷 dip you in honey by delsicle / @eeveedel {E, 28k}

Princess Harry, the pearl of England, is set to be married to the youngest prince of France in just six months. Anxious about his performance on his wedding night, he enlists the help of his loyal handmaiden Louis to help him practice everything he needs to know

Omega/Omega AU

🩷 It's Been Ages by @2tiedships2 {NR, 13k}

“We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates,”

Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

“What the fuck is an alpha alpha?” Niall asked with furrowed brows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis said, giving Niall a pointed look.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

🩷 I've Always Liked the Fireworks by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {T, 12k}

When alphas and omegas reach the age of twenty-one they are required to attend a Proving Day ceremony. Omegas watch as alphas do their best to compete in events, show off their skills, and prove how good a mate they can really be. The whole thing is a bit ridiculous, but Louis Tomlinson has always dreamed of finding his mate. He's got two unsuccessful Sheffield Proving Days under his belt and decides to go for the much more competitive one in Manchester. His goal is to play his best, leave it all out on the pitch, and hope that one of the omegas watching just happens to be his mate.

🩷 Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic {E, 12k}

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🩷 Just Jump by @jaerie {E, 9k}

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

🩷 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle {E, 9k}

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🩷 How Much My Heart Depends by @lululawrence {NR, 6k}

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

🩷 As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992 {M, 5k}

Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

And now, he's on his honeymoon. Louis is but a door away, waiting for him.

Honestly, he doesn't understand why he's nervous.

#ficrec #omegaverse #omegaharry #louloubaby92 #lululawrence #hlcreators #hljournal #1dficvillage #turnyourankle #lightswoodmagic #jaerie #kingsofeverything #allwaswell16 #quickedween #greenfeelings #2tiedships2 #ladylondonderry #delsicle #imogenlee #brightgolden #perfectdagger #louisismycat #hellolovers13 #softfonds #nonsensedarling #devilinmybrain #sadaveniren

[silverisafukintrainwreck]

idk how people have the audacity to think nicole is anything other than a lesbian when literally all she does is pull half of the female cast and constantly belittle the men around her. that’s 100% homosexuality right there. her and jecka? best homoerotic friendship i’ve seen in a while. ari? toxic yuri of all time. emily?? literally endgame. god i wish they had fifteen more endings together, nicole x emily for life. and all of that while her opinions on everyone else (men) are “fuck you and kill yourself”

#class of 09 #class of 09 game #class of 09 reup #class of 09 nicole #class of 09 jecka #class of 09 emily #class of 09 ari #jeckole #i can’t figure out what the other ship names might be #Z=47.txt

[charliemwrites]

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

No Content Warnings

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

#cod #thoughts™️ #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Brandon the crash dummy

[heeology]

god, you're annoying | l.hs

synopsis → ever since you and heeseung have come into each others' lives, he has been asking you out and flirting with you nonstop. for years, the cycle of him confessing his feelings to you and you rejecting every single one of his advances seems as though it has gone on forever. being fed up, you develop a plan to pretend as though you already have a boyfriend (spoiler alert: it doesn’t end well). after years of continuously trying to get heeseung off of your radar, you just can’t seem to get rid of him and suddenly (to your surprise), you find yourself not being bothered as much by his presence.

feat. → yeonjun (txt), yunjin (le sserafim), beomgyu (txt), minjeong (aespa), jake (enhypen), sunghoon (enhypen), jay (enhypen)

genre → university AU, enemies to lovers, romance, smut

pairing → nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings → MDNI, kinda long but bear w me pls

w.c. → 9k

disclaimer!! → any other idols mentioned in this story (that I portray are dating) i do not ship irl; this story is a work of fiction a.k.a. something derived from my delusions and imagination, take this story lightly pls and thx.

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

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Everyday you walk onto campus and make sure you avoid eye contact with a “certain someone” and even though the outcome always remains the same, you still hope that one day it will actually make a difference. Unfortunately for you, on your campus, there is only one way to get to your morning class which makes this “certain someone” rather happy to know that you practically have to see him everyday. Although you try your best, he never fails to call out your name, even if you try hiding behind other people; he can spot you from a mile away. This, you find to be annoying. He, however, looks forward to this moment every day because what other reason is there to get up early in the morning if it means he doesn’t get to see you?

You hear him call after you as you try to quickly make your way to your first class which, luckily for you, does not include him. You can hear his footsteps hurrying towards you making you break out into a light jog to your classroom door that is just ahead. You reach for the door handle and open it just enough to let yourself in and as you are about to close it behind you, a hand from the other side stops you, forcing it back open enough for you to be face-to-face with the one and only bane of your existence: Lee Heeseung.

He gives you a cocky smile receiving an eye roll from you as you can already hear his irritating voice begin to say a bunch of sentences and words that you couldn’t care any less about because you couldn’t care any less about him. Heeseung is fully aware about how you feel about him and although some most of his actions are–-yes, he’ll admit–-advertently creepy, he means no harm. You, of course, don’t see it that way, but that doesn’t stop him. 

“You didn’t hear me calling your name?” he asks, knowing that you did and also knowing that you ignored him, but he just wants to hear any snarky reply you have because that’s the only time when you actually acknowledge his presence. 

“Nope, must’ve missed it.” you say in a fake sympathetic tone. 

He lets out a “hmm” and you mock him. He smirks, leaning a little closer to you. You would move away, but then you figured he might take that as his chance to open the door more, so you decide to stay put. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me. There is this restaurant that my family and I only go to on special occasions and I think you’ll really like it.”

There it is, him asking you to the same stupid restaurant that you have said no to many (and you mean many) times before. You know what restaurant he is talking about, some way overpriced place that only really rich people go to. You clenched your jaw as your hand gripped the edge of the door a little tighter. He smiled at you, which you thought was him being smug, but rather it was him anticipating your answer. He meant what he said and he just wants to be given a chance to show you how much he likes you. 

Him asking you out to this restaurant, always offering to buy your lunch, pay for your snacks, or buy you some other object just felt as him rubbing his money in your face, making all of his attempts seem as though they are a joke; that you are a joke. Ever since middle school, when you and Heeseung had first met, he made his “crush” on you apparent, which all of the other kids found to be funny and ridiculous. You know he doesn’t actually like you and you hate him for still acting like this even though you both are now grown adults and not eleven year old children who still ride in the car with their parent on their way to school everyday. 

“Well, if you think I’ll like it, then I’ll surely hate it.” you reply.

“You’re only saying that be-”

“No, Heeseung, I will not go out with you and for the last time: stop bothering me.” you say sternly.

You scowl at him and he can’t help but find you to be adorable. He knows you’re annoyed by him, but there isn’t anyone else he would rather spend his time with other than you, even if his only way to spend time with you is by pestering you constantly. 

“I’m just going to ask you again tomorrow.” he says with a smile.

You knew he wasn’t joking about that and that made your blood begin to boil. You hated having to be bothered by him, you hated feeling like a joke, you hated seeing his stupid face everyday, and you hated how it seems like he doesn't even care. You have to put a stop to this, you simply can’t take it anymore. But how? You’ve tried everything, what other way could there possibly be? Then it clicked. You stood up straighter, looking him directly in his eyes. He found himself a little taken aback by your sudden eye contact, but didn’t want to show it; to show how you make him flustered and blush just by simply looking at him.

“Heeseung, I have a boyfriend.” you say, trying not to smile.

You don’t know how you didn’t think of this before, but you’re overjoyed that the idea finally came. His smile drops–for a split second–as he felt the wind practically get knocked out of him like someone had just suckerpunched him in the gut. You were bluffing, you had to be…right?

“Pfft, I don’t believe you.” he says, letting go of the door, only to cross his arms and lean against the doorframe.

You feel your face become hot as you stand your ground, “And what exactly makes you say that?”

“I’ve never seen you with your “boyfriend”.” he says, making air quotes.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

“Well it surely doesn’t mean that you do.”

“I know you stalk me because you have nothing better to do with your life, but that doesn’t mean you know what I do every second of the day.”

He shrugs his shoulders, not buying a word that you are saying. He keeps telling himself that you are lying, but what if that small percentage of possibility actually means you are telling the truth? He doesn’t want to think about that, he has to believe that you are lying.

“Okay, what’s his name, then?” he asks, confident that you won’t have an answer.

Shit. How do you answer that? You try not to show your worry in your expression and quickly try to come up with an answer. You open your mouth to speak, hoping the words that do end up coming out make sense.

“Yeonjun.” you reply.

Well, you said a name and that’s all that counts. Sure, it’s the name of your best friend’s boyfriend, but she won’t mind if you use him for a lie…right? Now it’s Heeseung’s turn for him to clench his jaw. He scoffs, rolling his eyes before looking back at you.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you with him on campus?”

“Because he goes to another school, idiot.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Through my best friend; they go to school together.”

You could see him become more annoyed with your answers as you tried to say them with as much confidence as possible. 

“I still don’t believe you.” he says, less certain of what he is saying than before.

You’re so close and you know it, you just need to say something that will make him back-off once and for all.

“I’ll have him bring me to school tomorrow.” you said, now being the one to cross your arms as you smiled smugly.

Heeseung felt his blood run cold, terror now coursing through his veins. Were you actually telling the truth? He didn’t want to see you with some other guy, most definitely not someone who you are claiming to be your boyfriend. The thought made him both upset and annoyed. What do they have that he doesn’t? He’s the one who has been trying to show how much he likes you for years now and some rando comes in and sweeps you off of your feet? Over his dead body.

“Okay,” he says while standing up from leaning on the door, “I can’t wait to see you and a bunch of air walk into school tomorrow.”

“You still think I’m lying?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking away before looking back at you.

“I just find it hard to believe.”

“That I have a boyfriend?”

“You could say that.”

Man, you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong (even though he is technically right). You fake laugh at his reply and stop as you grab his hand. He feels butterflies erupt in his stomach from your sudden contact and is so distracted that he isn’t even paying attention to what you are doing, which is putting his hand on the door frame. You plaster on a fake smile before quickly swinging the door shut. He snaps out of his daze and moves his hand out of the way just in time before it could have been smashed by the door. 

-

Beomgyu didn’t think to even hold back his laughter once the words left your mouth and although the music in the club was blaring through the speakers, you could still hear his piercing voice. The others, however, were a little more surprised to hear what you had said, especially Yunjin and Yeonjun. You had a guilty smile on your face as you exchanged glances between the two and then Yeonjun scoffed. He raised his glass in a ‘cheers’ manner and Yunjin slapped his shoulder.

“It’s honestly not that bad of a plan,” Minjeong says, trying to defuse the tension, “Yunjin, you know better than any of us here how badly this guy bothers her.”

Yunjin sighs before she chugs the rest of her drink from her cup. “You can borrow my boyfriend on one condition: it doesn’t go too far.” She says, pointing between you and Yeonjun. 

You both look at each other and cringe. Yeonjun puts his arm around Yunjin and she smiles. He kisses her temple, “As if that would ever happen.”

“So how exactly are you going to convince him?” Yunjin asks.

You chug the rest of your drink, wincing as the alcohol burns your throat. “Is it cool if Yeonjun takes me to school tomorrow? I was thinking all he has to do is walk me to my class and just essentially tell Heeseung to back off.”

“He’s not going to do it unless he believes it.” Beomgyu points out as he leans back into the booth.

“He’s right, him walking you into school isn’t going to be enough to convince him; he sounds persistent.” Minjeong agrees.

“The most he is allowed to do is kiss you on the cheek to make it believable, but that’s it.” Yunjin says looking at Yeonjun to make sure he understands.

“I don’t get a say in whether or not I agree to this?” Yeonjun asks, looking at everyone, but landing on you.

“No.” the rest of you say in unison.

He laughs before finishing his drink. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

-

Even as Yeonjun pulls his motorcycle to a stop in front of your campus, he can still feel your fingernails practically digging into his stomach. 

He lifts up the visor on his helmet, “Can you please stop trying to claw your way into my intestines?”

You let go of him all together and he lets out the breath that he has been holding in. 

“Sorry.” you say, it sounding muffled under the helmet. He smiles, taking off his helmet after getting off the bike. He sets his helmet down and holds out his hand for you to take. You take it, him helping you off, before he helps you take off the helmet. “Thanks.” you say and he shrugs his shoulders as a reply. 

He glances over his shoulder, noticing people looking at him and you, whispering. “So, which one is the stalker?” he asks, trying to be discreet.

You turn your head to look, not seeing Heeseung anywhere, oddly enough. You scoff, “The one day he isn’t here is the day that you bring me.” you roll your eyes and Yeonjun shrugs.

“Well, see you later.”

“Woah-wait. I still need you to walk me.” you say, grabbing one of his shoulders to stop him from leaving.

“What? Why? You just said he isn’t here.”

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t need reinforcements.”

Yeonjun groans, but turns back around to face your campus. You clear your throat before reaching to hold his hand. You intertwine your fingers, looking at each other through the corners of your eyes, confirming that you’re ready to go. You walk hesitantly at first, but the further you get, Yeonjun releases his hand from yours to put his arm around you. Low and behold, once you made your way to the front of your class, Heeseung was there waiting right beside the door.

He, of course, hadn’t been there the whole time. He was pacing back and forth in the bathroom before working up the courage to actually make his way to your class, a part of him hoping he had just missed you so he wouldn’t actually have to see you with someone else. Yet there you are, walking up to him (well, your class), with some dude who looked like he was trying too hard to be cool with his arm around you. He felt sick and the closer you came, the more he felt like vomiting. 

You smiled, stopping in front of your class door with Yeonjun. 

“Oh Heeseung, you’re actually here, I thought you chickened out.”

He smiles, annoyed. His gaze shifts over to Yeonjun and Yeonjun smirks.

“So this is Heeseung?” He asks, eyeing him up and down.

Heeseung pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek. He looks back at Yeonjun and eyes him up and down before crossing his arms. Although he currently feels sick to his stomach, he’s still a little suspicious. 

“Am I supposed to believe you’re her boyfriend?”

Yeonjun scoffs, crossing his arms, “You can believe what you want,” he steps closer to Heeseung, leaning close to his ear making Heeseung tense up, “but you better stop messing with her regardless.”

He pulls back, smiling at Heeseung and patting one of his shoulders. Heeseung scowls, wiping off his shoulder as Yeonjun turns to you. You smile at him, ignoring Heeseungs glares.

“Have a good day, babe.” he says before kissing you on your cheek. He glances back over his shoulder before snickering at Heeseung and walking away.

You smile proudly at Heeseung while he looks at you in complete and utter shock. Did he just see what he think he just saw? He couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to believe it. 

“Well,” you say, making him snap out of his thoughts, “you heard him: stop bothering me.” you say before going into your class.

-

“I heard from some people that he has a motorcycle and he brought her on it today.” Jake says while taking some food off of Sunghoon’s tray, earning a glare from him.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, clenching his fork harder in his hand. “I don’t get it, he’s not even her type.”

Sunghoon laughs and Heeseung scowls at him. “How would you know? You’re not exactly close with her.”

“I think it’s time for you to just leave her alone, you’ve been bugging her since we were kids.” Jay comments.

Heeseung goes quiet. Should he give up? He reminisces about the time he first saw you, laughing with your friend, and the only thing he could think about was how pretty you look when you smile. He isn’t the type to hide how he feels and he thought you would be pleasantly surprised by how open he is about how he feels about you, but when you rejected him after he bought you your favorite drink, he was confused. He didn’t want to give up, though, because all he wanted was to be able to make you laugh just like when he first saw you.

“Jay’s right, the joke has gone on for long enough.” Jake adds.

Heeseung looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Joke? What are you talking about?”

Before Jake can answer, a girl walks up and takes a seat in one of the open chairs at the table. Everyone’s eyes go to her as she smiles.

“Hi,” she says shyly, “Heeseung, can I speak with you privately?”

“No, thanks.” he replies, continuing to eat his food.

Jake tries to suppress his laugh and Jay kicks him from under the table. Jake’s smile falls as he kicks Jay back.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jay warns.

“You started it.” Jake mumbles.

“Well, I was just wondering,” everyone looks back at the girl, momentarily forgetting she was even there, “if you would like to get coffee with me after school.” she says, moving some of her hair behind her ear.

“No, thanks.” Heeseung says in the same uninterested tone as before, not bothering to spare her another glance as he continues eating.

She sits there, a little taken aback as an awkward silence settles. Sunghoon clears his throat before taking another bite of his food. The girl stands up and walks away, not bothering to push back in the chair; Jay and Jake watch her as she leaves.

“She was cute, why did you say no?” Jake asks.

“We know why.” Jay says, drinking some of his water.

“You’ve been turning down every girl that asks you out for years, don’t you want to at least try and date someone?” Jake asks.

Heeseung groans and sets down his fork. “What’s the point? No one else is worth the time.”

-

“You all should have seen his face.” Yeonjun beams as you and your friend group continue roaming throughout the mall.

“So, it worked?” Minjeong questioned and you nodded your head happily.

“I didn’t see him for the rest of the day and he didn’t say anything else once Yeonjun left.” you replied happily.

“And there was nothing more than a kiss on the cheek?” Yunjin questioned.

“Of course.” Yeonjun says, kissing her quickly.

You and the others groan as they both just smile at each other. 

“Oh!” Minjeong says, grabbing your hand. You look at her and then the store she was looking at, “They finally restocked the perfume I was telling you about.”

“I can’t afford that.”

She rolls her eyes, “You can’t, but I can, now come on.” she says, pulling you with her.

“I’d rather not be stuck with you two sickos, so I’m going to go with them.” Beomgyu states to Yunjin and Yeonjun before heading off to follow you and Minjeong. 

Yeonjun grimaces and mocks Beomgyu as he walks off and Yunjin laughs.

As much as Heeseung would rather have gone home straight after classes than come to the mall to help Jake pick out a new keyboard, he came anyway due to his friend’s consistent pestering. 

“You’re paying me back for gas money, I hope you know that.” Heeseung mumbles.

Jake scoffs, “You’re richer than I am, besides, friends carpool other friends.” Heeseung rolls his eyes as he and Jake make their way to the store. Heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but is caught off guard by loud giggling coming across from where he and Jake are. Both of them look in the direction of where the noise is coming from to see Yeonjun and Yunjin laughing, her hitting his shoulder playfully and him scattering kisses on her face. Heeseung stops dead in his tracks. Jake stops walking and looks between Heeseung and the couple. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Heeseung could feel anger surging through his body. Isn’t that guy your boyfriend? Why was he so publicly flirting with this other girl? Is he cheating on you? Unknown to him, Heeseung was walking towards the two, blinded by rage. Jake tries to call after him, but it just sounded like static to Heeseung. Jake rushes to catch up to him, trying to figure out what he was going to do and why he was even doing something in the first place. Heeseung stands in front of Yeonjun, making both Yeonjun and Yunjin turn their attention towards him.

“Shit.” Yeonjun mumbles.

Heeseung didn’t have the patience to ask any questions, he knew he was right in the first place. This guy had some nerve to hurt you like this, so before anyone had another chance to say a word, Heeseung clenched his hand into a fist and punched Yeonjun in the face.

“What the hell!?” Yunjin exclaims, grabbing onto Yeonjun’s arm as he falls to the ground.

Heeseung didn’t pay any attention to the throbbing pain from his hand and raises his fist to punch him again, but Jake stops him. Yeonjun touches his face, blood dripping from his nose as he looks up at Heeseung, clenching his jaw in anger.

“You son of a b-”

“Don’t start with that, you’re the one cheating.”

Yunjin scoffs and stands up to slap Heeseung. “You have some nerve to punch my boyfriend, asshole.”

“What the hell is going on?” Beomgyu questions as you, him, and Minjeong come out from the store.

You look around to see the chaos that has ensued as well as people starting to crowd around all of you.

“This idiot punched my boyfriend because he thinks he’s cheating on you.” Yunjin says shooting you a glare as she helps Yeonjun off of the floor.

“You did what?” you turn to Heeseung.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend? Why aren’t you upset that he’s cheating on you?” Heeseung asks, confused and starting to feel the pain from his hand as the adrenaline and anger start to subside.

You open your mouth to say something, but Yunjin interrupts you. “Maybe because he isn’t actually her boyfriend.”

Heeseung looks between you and her, confused.

“Bu-”

“They only pretended to be dating because she wanted you to back off.” Yunjin seethed.

Heeseung wasn’t sure how to process all of this information, let alone, he wasn’t even sure if he was.

“Yunjin-” you try to apologize, but she pushes past you with Yeonjun. You try to grab her hand, but she pulls away and turns to you.

“It went too far.” she says, trying to control her temper before turning around to walk away with Yeonjun.

You turn to look at Minjeong and Beomgyu, but they both just look at each other awkwardly. 

“We should probably go with them.” Beomgyu says.

Minjeong nods her head, agreeing, but before they both walk past you, she stops, “I’m sure if you try talking to her tomorrow, she’ll forgive you.”

You bite the inner part of your cheek as they walk away. The crowd starts to disperse, still earning a few questioning glances from those passing by. You glare at Heeseung and begin to walk away.

“Look, I didn’t-” he tries to explain, but you cut him off by turning around, now face-to-face with him.

Tears sting as they begin to brim your eyes. There are so many things you could say to him right now, so many things to yell, but for once you find yourself to be at a loss. He too, is also at a loss for words. Seeing you look at him this way, tears in your eyes, he feels so ashamed and embarrassed. 

“Just leave me alone.” you say through shallow breaths, trying your hardest not to cry in front of him.

You knew to him this was all some sick joke, so you doubt he would actually listen to you, but you hoped there was some small part of him that would finally see you never found any of this to be funny and that he has finally taken it too far.

-

You have never dreaded walking to your class this morning more than you do at this very moment; you just don’t have the energy to put up with Heeseung now or even ever again. You tried texting Yunjin, but she never replied let alone even opened the messages. You were so wrapped up in your emotions you didn’t even realize you made it to your class in peace. Relieved was an understatement about how you were currently feeling, but you also felt oddly sick. 

Although you didn’t want him bothering you, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the fact that he didn’t even try to apologize once while you were on your way to class. It was the least he could do, afterall. He pretty much destroyed your friendships with your closest friends and now that he’s had his fun, he no longer felt the need to keep up the act? The more you thought about it, the more angry you became. You knew you hated him before, but you’ve never been this furious with him, not even at his attempts to rub his wealth in your face by buying you things. No, this was a new low, even for him, but you keep trying to tell yourself you should’ve seen it coming.

-

“Oh hell no.” Yunjin mumbles before standing up from the steps she and the others were sitting on. Heeseung approaches cautiously as he feels their eyes burning into him with their intensive stares. “You really are a stalker, how did you even know what university I go to?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively. 

“It’s in our high school yearbooks, everyone put where they were going.” he replied. Yunjin scowls, hoping he would get the idea and leave once and for all. “I came to apologize. I just-” he pauses, looking away while clenching his jaw before looking back at them. “I’m sorry I punched you.” he says to Yeonjun. 

Yeonjun looks at him, unimpressed. 

“You suck at apologizing.” Yunjin states.

“I thought he was cheating! I didn’t know-” he groans, becoming frustrated. He tries to calm down, running his hand through his hair before speaking again. “All I want to say is that I really am sorry, I was just trying to look out for your friend, okay? She deserves better and when I saw who I thought was her boyfriend kissing someone else, I just…handled things poorly.”

Yeonjun gets up to stand next to Yunjin, draping his arm around her shoulders. “I get it, you didn’t know.”

Yunjin scoffs, “You’ve officially taken this joke of yours too far, so stop acting like you care about her and just admit it already.”

“Why does everyone think I’m joking?” he asks, both frustrated and genuinely.

“Everyone in school knew you were joking. I thought you took it too far back when you bought her a pair of some new, expensive shoes.”

Is that really how everyone saw it? Is that really how you see it?

“I bought her the shoes because she had her old ones for years and had bandaids for the blisters she was clearly getting. I also bought her extra bandages, did you forget about that?”

Yunjin stops scowling, “So you aren’t just messing with her because she rejected you?”

“Of course not, I really care about her. I know I annoy her, but I never thought she would think I was doing all of this just to hurt her feelings.”

Yunjin stands there for a second, questioning whether or not she believes him. 

“You’re right,” she starts, making eye contact with Heeseung, “she deserves the best.” It falls quiet again for a moment, mainly because Yunjin is wondering whether or not she wants to give him a chance to prove himself to you. “We’re going to meet at the club downtown around ten, if you really mean what you say, you should come.”

Heeseung stands there, stunned. Does this mean she believes him? Does this mean they all believe him? Does this mean you’ll believe him? As they walk away from the steps, they all look at him, but not the same way they did when he first came over; skeptical. They all looked at him like they wanted what he said to be true and tonight is the night he is going to prove it.

-

You walked into the club, anxious, yet grateful that Yunjin finally responded to one of your messages. You wanted tonight to be like any other night that you all hang out here, like everything was back to normal; like it was before the whole debacle with Heeseung at the mall. You made your way past the crowds of people through the darkly lit club, over to the booth you all usually sit at. 

“Hey.” you say, trying not to sound awkward.

Yunjin sheepishly smiles, “Hey.” she says.

“Are you guys going to kiss and make up now?” Beomgyu asks, honestly over all of the drama.

Everyone laughs and Minjeong hands you your usual drink as you all make your way to the dance floor. From there, you move your body to the music, just wanting to let go of all the stress you’ve been under lately. Dancing along with your friends, having a good time, is all you care about at this very moment. You were enjoying yourself, feeling confident in the outfit you chose to wear paired along with the light buzz from the alcohol you were drinking. You closed your eyes as you soaked it all in; it felt like nothing could disrupt this feeling.

“Wow…” you hear someone say before they trail off.

You open your eyes and freeze. You know this voice a little all-too-well. Your grip on the glass you are holding in your hand becomes tighter as you slowly turn towards the person who was speaking. Your eyes lock with Heeseungs as he looks at you in awe. You look stunning and he felt like all of the air from his lungs had escaped the second he saw you; breathless. You walk closer to him, so he wouldn’t get any crazy ideas and try to do something else to your friends, but as you got closer to him you couldn’t help but think about how nice he smells. You shake the thought from your head as you look up at him, your eyes meeting once again. 

All thoughts you previously had were now gone; he made your mind go blank. Have his eyes always been this pretty? No…what the hell are you thinking? Pull yourself together.

“Do you take nothing I say seriously?” you manage to blurt out.

He smiles, happy that you’re talking to him (and just because he’s happy to see you in general).

“For all the years you’ve known me, you should know better than anyone else that I can’t stay away from you.” he replies before smirking.

That smug attitude thankfully snapped you out of whatever weird thoughts you were having earlier and brought you back to reality: he’s a prick. You roll your eyes and push yourself past him as you head to the bar to return your glass. You set the glass down a little harsher than you anticipated and Heeseung follows you as you make your way out of the club. He calls after you, but you ignore him. Nothing is going to change, apparently. But as you’ve said to yourself before: you really shouldn’t be surprised.

Heeseung stops calling after you and instead catches up to you, grabbing your hand gently so you would stop walking away from him. You turn to face him, looking down at your hands for a split second, feeling a different kind of buzz result from it. You try to shake his hand away, but he doesn’t budge. You meet his eyes, feeling your heart begin to race. As much as you tried to stop, something was happening, and you were certainly not a huge fan. 

“I spoke with your friends earlier and apologized.”

He did what? Wait…have you been hallucinating this whole time? That would explain why you suddenly feel this way because you know, not in any lifetime, would you possibly have feelings for Lee Heeseung. 

“How?” is all you could manage to say. 

Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute, not really in any shape to hold any kind of conversation, but especially not one with Heeseung.

“I made a mistake. I have a lot of things I want to apologize to you for.”

He spoke so gently and sweetly; it was like he was hypnotizing you. The streets were oddly quiet, not too many people, but you could still hear the music from the club. You found yourself staring at him in amazement. The fluorescent lights from the signs of stores nearby and the streetlights felt as though they were shining on the both of you, like you two were the only people who matter.

“What?” is all you can think to say.

“I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you to the point where you felt like you had no other choice but to lie.” he says, taking a step closer to you. “I’m sorry I made you and your friend fight.” he takes another step closer to you. You felt your breath hitch as your eyes traveled along his figure. Has he always looked this good in a black button up and black pants? It doesn’t help that his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you find yourself staring at his arms.

He waits for you. He waits for you while he clearly sees you checking him out and it’s turning him on. God, you look so beautiful and the way you are looking at him, slowly taking in everything about him as if you are seeing him for the first time makes him want to kiss you; it makes him want to do a lot more. When your eyes meet his again, he takes this as an opportunity to step closer to you, placing his other hand on your cheek, gently cupping your face. He wants to be gentle because you are one of the most precious things to him. He leans close to your face, each others’ breath scattering lightly along one anothers face. 

“And I’m sorry,” he whispers as he rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek, still looking into your eyes, “for making you feel like a joke.”

You feel yourself tense up. “Was it? All a joke…” you trail off, not necessarily sure what you want to happen next.

He continues looking into your eyes, never looking away because he wants you to know that he is being serious; that he means every word he says.

“Not for a second.” he replies.

You think back to everything he has done for you in a new perspective. How he would leave your favorite snack on your desk on test days, notes telling you how well you did after a presentation, volunteering to be your partner because he didn’t want you to feel alone or left out, buying you your favorite drink if you forgot to bring money for it, and asking you out to a restaurant that holds a special meaning to him and he only wants to share it with you. 

You want to kiss him, but you find yourself pulling away instead. He looks at you, confused, as you separate yourself from him, letting go of his hand. 

“I should get home. You know how early my morning class is.” you say while looking at the ground.

“Are you walking home? This late?”

You step back a little bit, finally looking back at him and you smile nervously. “I usually take the bus, but I think I missed the last one, so yeah, I guess I am.” you say kind of bunched together. Are you nervous?

“I can just drive you home.” he says, not really offering, more like telling.

You shake your head as your eyes shift to one of the cars in front of the club. You recognized it as his since he drives it to school everyday. A small, small part of you would love to ride in it, but you can walk home yourself (even if you also know it’s a bad idea).

“Yeah, I’m not letting you walk home alone this late.” he says, no longer wondering why you pulled away from him, but more concerned for your safety. He reaches for your hand and you let him take it, even if you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. You both walk over to his car and he opens the door for you to get in. You look at him and he looks back at you, not intending on budging from his offer. You roll your eyes playfully as you get into the car. He closes the door and walks over to get into the driver's seat. He gets in and closes the door before starting his engine. You sit there, a little surprised you were even in his car in the first place. “You kind of need to put on your seatbelt.” he says, nodding his head towards the seatbelt that you left untouched. 

You laugh nervously, but for some reason, you still don’t think to move to put it on. He sighs, smiling to himself at your cuteness, before leaning over to grab the seatbelt, slowly extending it over your body before clicking it into place. He looks at you, your faces inches apart, and you feel your breathing quicken once again. His heart begins to beat faster, but he can’t stop looking at you; you’re stunning. He manages to pull himself away, worried he might make you feel uncomfortable, before putting on his own seatbelt and putting the car in drive. 

“Do you want to tell me how to get to your house?” he asks as he pulls out of the parking spot.

Your eyes widen. Right, your house. A house that--you assume--is nowhere near as nice as his house. What if once he sees just how different you two are he will stop liking you? What if he was lying before and this was his final cruel attempt to make fun of you? You shake your head.

“I would rather not tell you.”

He steps on the brake, turning his head to look at you.

“You…don’t want to tell me?”

You shake your head, hoping he’ll give up and let you out of the car. You hear him let out a tut, making you turn your head to look at him.

“Would you rather I take you to my place?” he asks, trying not to sound nervous.

Not particularly, you kind of already planned on going to bed once you got back home, but you stayed quiet, leaving him to answer his own question. He sighs, releasing his foot off the brake.

-

Heeseung pulls up to a gate that guards a huge house behind it. Your mouth falls a little agape as you look at it, thinking about how the driveway is the size of your own home. He puts in the code, opening the gate, and driving up the huge driveway. He parks the car and turns off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt before looking at you. 

“Do you need me to unbuckle it for you?” he asks while smirking.

You kind of want him to, but you opt for doing it yourself. You both get out of the car and he waits for you before he begins to lead the way. You can’t stop looking around as you two walk up the stairs leading to the (in your opinion) oversized doors, to which he opens and lets you walk in first. The house is even more luxurious on the inside than it is on the outside, which you honestly didn’t think could be possible. He shuts the door behind him and you both take off your shoes. You feel out of place, starting to feel insecure. The guy with all of this money to have this grand living room with a huge television, windows covering the walls and expensive furniture littered everywhere claims to like you? And has for years? You were starting to find it hard to believe again. 

“I hope this is okay.” he says, breaking the silence. 

You weren’t sure what he meant, but you assume he’s hoping it’s okay that he brought you here. He starts heading for the staircase and you follow behind, still taking in your surroundings. He leads you to his room, and you decide to stand by the doorframe. To you, it doesn’t seem like the downstairs even needs a living room since he already has a couch and t.v. in his room along with a big bed laying on a platform and more windows for walls. A beep is heard and the curtains for his windows start automatically covering them and the two lamps on his bedside tables turn on. He looks back at you, smiling at your expression that he finds to be adorable. 

“You can come in, you know.” he says as he rummages through some drawers.

You hesitantly walk into his room, somehow just noticing how nice it smells, and find the confidence to walk up the few steps to his bed to take a seat. You turn your head to look around some more and Heeseung looks up, stopping what he is doing upon seeing you on his bed. You are on his bed. Is he dreaming? He honestly never thought this day would come and he clears his throat to try and calm his nerves, making you look at him.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask.

He grabs what he came in for and walks over to you holding out the clothes he picked himself.

“The guest rooms don’t have any clothes in them, so you can borrow mine.”

Did he just say “rooms” as in plural, like multiple? 

“Right, naturally.” you tease.

He smiles and you stand to grab the clothes from him. You hold them as you look up at him, once again meeting his eyes. That feeling starts to form again, the one where you don’t want to stop looking at him and certainly don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“I forgive you.” you whisper.

He looks confused for a second before he understands what you mean. He smiles.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” 

You aren’t sure if it’s the atmosphere, the way he smells, the way he’s looking at you, or all three combined, but before you can even process what you are doing, you are tossing the clothes he handed you onto the floor and pulling him by the collar to kiss you.

Holy. Shit. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. One of your hands moves to hold the side of his neck while the other moves to the back of his hair as you start running your fingers through it, gripping it here and there. He moves his hands to hold your waist, squeezing them lightly from anticipation, as he kisses you back. He gains more confidence, pulling you as closely as possible to him, as he deepens the kiss. He is desperate for you, he is desperate to show you how he feels. He lifts you up and your legs wrap around his waist, him carefully carrying you and placing you onto his bed. He lays you down as you two continue to kiss, him pulling away from your lips and beginning to leave a trail of light, breathy, kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. Your chest raises from the deep breath you take and he swears he is going to lose his mind from looking at you in your current state. The state he is currently leaving you in. 

His hands roam your body, wanting to feel every inch of you.

“Heeseung…” you say breathlessly, practically sending him over the edge.

He can feel his erection growing and you saying his name like that makes his cock ache harder. He pulls away from leaving hickeys along your chest, pulling you up by the waist so he can lift your dress off of you. He pulls it over your head and you help him, throwing the dress off to the side. He rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm his breathing and you begin to palm his erection. He whines, moving your hand away before laying you back down. His eyes scan your body, now realizing you were never wearing a bra. There you are, laying on his bed in nothing other than your underwear and he has to try and collect himself before he cums in his pants at just the mere sight of you. His right hand begins to travel up your leg, his fingers lightly running along your skin as he continues to look at you, look at every inch of you. His fingers travel past your hip up to your breasts where he cups one of them, earning a small gasp from you.

He bites the inner part of his cheek, trying to contain himself as he fondles your breast, playing with your nipple, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He leans down to leave light kisses on your shoulder, looking at your face between each one, going down and stopping at your other breast before latching his mouth around your nipple. You bite your lip, one of your hands comes to grip his hair. He moans as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, occasionally flicking it. He felt drunk and so incredibly turned on. He stops fondling your other breast with his hand and lightly trails his fingers down to your underwear, sticking his hand inside. You gasp again, his fingers feeling a little cold as he runs them along your wet folds. 

Fuck he was making you feel good and you let out a moan, making him smirk. He sticks a finger in, making you grip his hair a little harder, and so he sticks in two. You moan again and he pulls away from your breast to kiss you as his fingers pump in and out of you. You’ve become so wet that you start to cover his hand in your wetness, the sound of his hand coming in constant contact with your pussy starting to fill the room. You feel yourself become close and your mouth falls agape. He stops kissing you and pulls back as well as pulling his fingers out of you. You open your eyes, the dim lights suddenly being so bright as you try to process what is happening.

He brings his fingers to his lips, licking off your arousal from them. His eyes close as he inhales deeply, consumed by the taste of you.

“Please, Heeseung…” you start to plead.

He opens his eyes and figures he can’t leave you without what you want. So, in honor of a fair trade since he feels intoxicated by your taste, he takes off your underwear and throws your legs over his shoulders as he positions his face in front of your pussy. You swallow harshly as you feel his breath on you before he licks a stripe along your core, causing your eyes to roll back a little bit and your back arch at the sudden contact. His hands grip the sides of your thighs as he indulges in you, licking up every last drop of you before making his way to your clit and sucking on it.

“Fuck, Heeseung…” you moan out breathlessly.

He’s too consumed by your taste to notice and he pulls you more into his face. He moans into you, one of his hands leaving your thigh as he starts to finger you again. He hears you moaning and gasping, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Just the sight of you causes him to pick up his pace, his fingers rapidly going in and out of you and the more you moan, the more turned on he gets. You feel yourself become closer, gripping the sheets as you call out his name. That mixed with the taste of you on his tongue makes him moan. You taste so good, you look so beautiful, he feels like the luckiest man alive to have you call out his name. He sucks harder and pumps faster as he moans into you, cumming in his pants. 

Your head falls deeper into the pillow you were laying on as you release yourself all over his fingers, mouth, and face. His movements begin to slow down as he calms down from his high and he pulls away, seeing your legs shaking a bit. He sits back, taking your legs off of his shoulders and you look at him. His face is flushed and shiny because of your cum, which he didn’t mind. He licked his fingers again, trying to catch his breath afterwards and you find the energy to sit up. 

You pull him in for a kiss and his hands land on your ass, squeezing it. You moan and reach your slightly shaky hands up to the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them. You pull away as you take the shirt off of him, throwing it to the side. This time, you leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his neck, his mouth falling agape from pleasure. He was becoming hard again and so you started to undo his belt as well as the button and zipper on his pants. You can hear him let out shallow breaths, and he pulls you back to kiss him on the lips. You kiss each other with so much need, and as you start taking off his pants, he pulls away to take them off himself. 

You watch as he does, seeing his bulge through his underwear along with the cum stain from earlier. You smirk, which makes him feel a little shy.

“Come here.” you say, your eyes flicking back to meet his.

He listens, and you move each other so he is now the one laying back as you sit between his legs. He swallows harshly, completely turned on by the sight of your bare self looking at him in such a sinful way. Fuck, he wants you to ruin him. You keep eye contact with him as you lightly grab the edge of his boxers. His breath hitches as he becomes increasingly more nervous and he bites his lip as you run your pointer finger over his v-line. You smirk, slowly pulling his boxers off of him and finally letting his aching cock free. You cast aside his boxers, lightly running your fingers along his length, making him let out little moans, trying to decide what you want to do next. Seeing him like this, you decide you can’t wait any longer, so you position yourself over his cock, one hand holding onto his shoulder as the other guides it into your cunt. 

You both throw your heads back as you let out a moan in unison. You slowly sank onto his length and he watched in awe. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening and when you finally settled fully onto his cock, his mind felt fuzzy. You felt so fucking good and here you were, riding his dick with hickies all over your chest and neck made by him. Consumed by his thoughts, he gripped your hips a little bit harsher as he let out a stifled breath. You look at him, wondering what was happening, but feeling his cock twitch inside of you and him letting out a string of moans and apologies answered your question quickly as he came inside of you. 

His breathing settled after his release and he looks at you, eyes a little hazy, but full of pleasure; he looked so fucked out. 

“I’m so sorry.” he half whispers and half exclaims. 

He really meant it and to be honest, he was kind of embarrassed. You shake your head.

“Don’t be,” you say, starting to rock your hips, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure, “it was hot.” You pick up your speed and call out his name from how good he is making you feel. “Shit…” you whine as you start to lose momentum from the pleasure. He notices and adjusts himself so he is laying a little bit lower to which he slings his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a small yelp as he hoists his hips up, thrusting into you, fast and deep. “Fuck…” you call out into his ear, making him pick up his pace. 

Moans mixed with the sound of his cock rutting into you fills the room and you grip the sheets as you feel yourself clench around him.

“Fuck-” Heeseung starts, but is cut off by his own moans from being close to his climax.

He thrusts into you faster and you clench around him harsher, your legs shaking as you cum all over his dick. He grips your waist harsher and clenches his jaw, breathy moans still escaping through his teeth as he cums–once again–inside of you. He does a few more thrusts to ride out his high before pulling out of your throbbing cunt. You both lay there for a moment, you still on top of him, trying to catch your breath.

“So…” Heeseung starts. You lift your head slightly to look him in the eyes and he smiles sheepishly, “does this mean you’ll go on that date with me?” he asks, hopeful.

You roll your eyes, “God, you’re annoying.” you say before smiling.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #enhypen x reader #heeseung x female reader #enhypen x female reader #kpop smut #kpop imagines #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #enhypen lee heeseung #smut #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeology #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #lee heeseung fanfic #heeseung fanfic #enha heeseung #enha x reader #enha fanfic #enha ff #enha smut

[takaraphoenix]

I hate how much heteronormative storytelling links romance and sexuality together, because I just know that that’s why it took me so many years to figure out that I’m ace.

And yes, I’m specifying heternormative storytelling, because that’s the thing we get force-fed in media pretty much from the day we first get put in front of a screen.

Once we move past the fluffy Disney movie stage of life and enter the teenage years, where sexuality becomes a part of the storytelling to varying degrees of explicitness, we hit the real problem zone. *

(* For this particular issue. The forced romantic narrative in every single children’s movie is its own problem zone when we’re talking about aromanticism.)

A thing I complain about quite frequently is the lack of m/f friendships, the way whenever A Guy and A Gal are friends, the heteronormativity kicks in. Unless they’re both in explicit other (stable! not ‘this ship is meant to be broken up for The Main Romance’) romantic relationships, it’s virtually impossible for the straights to just... keep them friends. There have to be some kind of romantic feelings involved. No other possible reason why A Guy might like A Gal or vice versa. The notion of pure, actual friendship goes over these writers’ heads.

Anyway. To the point of the post. Once The Gal and The Guy realize that they aren’t ~just friends~ but really have romantic feelings for each other and once the will they/won’t they stops and they actually will... More often than not do the writers forget to actually include any romance at all.

I mean, genuinely. Their relationship continues the exact same way it was before they got together. But now they have sex. The only discernible difference between “friendship” and “romance” in pretty much every TV show or movie I grew up on was that they now fucked and kissed.

Very often highlighted even more by the fact that they’re portrayed as so fucking horny, they barely got the confession out before immediately stumbling into the bedroom to get it on. Not a single date. Not even a full conversation wasted there. Just going at it like Noah just herded them onto a big ship.

And if you grow up watching these things during your formative years of what constitutes a relationship and they influence you during your “what the fuck’s going on with my own identity” phase, they paint an incredibly conflated image of romance and sex.

Namely, that romance not only doesn’t work without sex, but even more so also a notion that the only real difference between friendship and romance is sexual intercourse.

So, even if the term “asexual” somehow crossed your path at any point prior to the “what the fuck’s going on with my own identity” phase, that gets immediately dismissed as even vaguely being a possibility if you do experience romantic attraction. **

(** And also if you experience aesthetic attraction, seeing as absolutely nobody and nothing really prepared 90s kids for the difference between aesthetic and sexual attraction. Kids nowadays have more resources more readily available thanks to the internet and I’m genuinely so glad for them.)

Clearly, I can’t be asexual because I find people pretty and finding people pretty means wanting to have sex with them and having sex is the requirement for romance and I do want romance in my life. So, I guess I’m a “late bloomer”?

So. Yeah. My two cents on how heteronormative storytelling has harmed not just homosexual kids figuring themselves out but also asexual kids, because of the ways in which heterosexual relationships have been and still are being framed in media.

#Asexuality #Ace Stuff #Aspec Stuff

[alazystranger]

zolu fic recommendations? (i can take reading angst now)

Ooh, this is going to be bit of a long post. i have tried to include a mix of both angsty and otherwise.

*cracks knuckles* alright let's get down to it! I have included the summaries as given by the authors below the link.

let thy sword be thy tongue by queerweather. A personal favorite! I go back to this one a lot.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Zoro is not afraid of Luffy handling his swords; Zoro is afraid of how Luffy handling his swords might unravel him.

Love you by willoffire123. Both angsty and sweet! Kind of like my comfort fic

When Luffy goes overboard one night during a winter storm, Zoro dives after him and the two are separated from their ship. Stranded on a winter island, slowly freezing to death, Luffy and Zoro come to realize their long dormant feelings for each other. Can they say their love in two words or less? Or will the winter island take their lives before they get the chance?

Loyal Till Death Do Us Part by StygianHeart. You said you can take angst now, anon? *cackles maniacally* this one has it all- whump luffy, traumatized zoro and what not. It has 13 chapters and it's absolutely worth it

Roronoa Zoro knows he’s loyal to a fault. And maybe that loyalty is only for his Captain and Crew. But realizing his loyalty for Luffy is also something more, something more personal and emotional, was not what Zoro wanted. And he definitely didn’t want the voices in his head to get so loud. But hey, we never get what we want, do we? In which Zoro figures out he’s in love with his captain and is in great denial, all while struggling through emotional repression and a bunch of shit he doesn’t deserve. Go figures.

running just to keep my hands on you by nevermordor. another fic i love to read again and again.

The thing they do is kind of like a game, because Luffy likes games, but it’s also kind of a competition because Zoro can’t not turn anything and everything into a competition. It doesn’t have a name and there are only two rules, because more than two would just be making things boring and overcomplicated. 1. Whoever takes out the most guys in a fight is the winner 2. Whoever is the loser has to do whatever the winner says “Why’s it gotta be a whole game and stuff," Luffy says. "That’s gonna take too long.” “It makes sex more fun," Zoro explains. "You gotta win it, you gotta earn it. Like anything good in life. Like pirate king or greatest swordsman.” Luffy considers this.

A gamble on love by SnailorBee. short and fluffy. had me grinning like an idiot. perfect fic to recover from the angsty ones.

Pre-Time Skip! "We have a bet amongst the crew, minus Chopper. You want in?" "A bet?" Brook repeated, mystified. "About what?" "If those two idiots are dating or not." Nami jerked her chin in the direction of the nap pile behind him. Strawhats and their bets about Luffy and Zoro.

To cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades. basically a series of snippets from their first meeting to just after timeskip but full of zolu feels.

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his.

poly philtatos(the most loved by far) by swordsmans. another personal favorite!

He keeps moving forward at a steady pace, resisting the urge to run because how fucking embarrassing would that be, running because he missed them, and as he breaks through the treeline he shouts, “Oi, oi—what took you guys so long? It's been—” And then he freezes, because yes, actually—something is very, very wrong. The Sunny is anchored just off shore, close enough to see the deck but far enough away that the crew has had to take the Mini Merry to make land. Scattered across the beach in various stages of chaos—rolling around, yelling, fighting—are his crew but not his crew, so similar and yet so, so different. They look younger, fresher, and whatthefuck there, on the deck of the Sunny just peering over the railing, he catches a flash of green—his own green hair— “Ah, fuck,” he grunts, and then immediately turns back around because no, actually, he does not want to deal with this.

These are a few of my picks. if you want more/shorter fics/if you were looking for something else, don't hesitate to send me another ask!

#zolu fic recs #zolu fanfic #these fics are really so precious to me it's insane #my second ask yay #zolu

[in1-nutshell]

hellooo!! i want to say your blog and writing are so so soooo wonderful! i love it, haha, and buddy became dear for heart x) aaand!! thanks to you I like family fluff even more, it's my comfort zone now!

can i ask about older seeker, who care about skywarp and thundercracker with star? despite canon and w∆r, it's pretty nice to think that they're actually good with each other 🥺

Thank you for the compliments! I'm glad to hear that The Buddy's are leaving such a good impact on people!

Since you did not specify which continuity this was, I assumed you meant by the IDW continuity. If this isn't what you wanted, please let me know.

Now we've had a Human Buddy senior, get ready for Bot Buddy the senior!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Senior Seeker being a parental figure to Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Starscream

IDW

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

Buddy was one of the older seekers in the aerial troops.

If fact Buddy was probably the oldest bot in the Decepticon division. But despite being one of the older bots Buddy made it up with being an experienced flyer.

With their results it landed Buddy as one of Satrscream’s right hand assistant /teammate.

This meant that Buddy would be spending a lot of time with the Elite Trine.

“Buddy, reporting for duty, Starscream.”--Buddy

“Finally, someone who has some respect for the future Leader of the Decepticon army.”--Starscream

“Urgh.”--Skywarp

“Great another suck up…”--Thundercracker

“Well, isn’t that a bit ambitious isn’t it Stascream? Maybe not the future leader of the army—”--Buddy

“How dare—”--Starscream

“Don’t interrupt me Kid.”--Buddy

“Kid!?”--Starscream

“Nevermind I like this one.”--Skywarp

“Shush! Both of you!”--Buddy

“I was saying use your position to improve the lives of those who work with you.”--Buddy

“Now why would I do that!”--Starscream

“More kindness you spread the more kindness you’ll receive in the end.”--Buddy

“Buddy you might want to save your energy on that.”--Thundercracker

“Yeah, Screamer here doesn’t do kindness. I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word.”—Skywarp

“Worth a shot.”--Buddy

Enough time the Elite Guard had become too accustomed to the older bot being there all the time. Even after the war the Trine continued to have communication with Buddy.

Starscream wanted Buddy to stay on Cybertron as one of his advisors.

No offense to Rattrap but he isn’t the best bot to always have around. And he refuses to hang out with Windblade anymore than what he has to. Buddy does take time to visit Starscream whenever they are back on Cybertron.

“Screamer?”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Starscream

“What are you doing?”--Buddy

“Having the mechs repaint your ship.”--Starscream

“Paint my ship?”--Buddy

“Yes, it was looking rather dull. Your ship shouldn’t have to look like that scrapheap.”--Starscream

“This isn’t a way for you to have me stay on Cybertron?”--Buddy

“No…”—Starscream

“Well then since I’m going to be here for a while, what’s going on between you and Windblade?”

“…”--Starscream

Buddy has made their home on Earth. It’s much more peaceful there now that the war is over. Buddy has to schedule meetings with Skywarp as his work has him moving all around with The GI Joe.

Skywarp likes it when Buddy comes over and races them around.

“C’mon Buddy best out of 25?”--Skywarp

“How about we take a breather? I can’t fly like I used to Skywarp.”--Buddy

“Aww! C’mon!”--Skywarp

“How about you tell me about that Rock guy?”--Buddy

“How about we take that breather.”--Skywarp

Buddy has to wait by themselves for a while to see Thundercracker.

9 times out of 10 Buster finds Buddy before Buddy has to try in finding Thundercracker. He gives Buddy a lot of copies of his screenwriting.

“Wow TC! This is a lot of screen writes.”--Buddy

“Yeah! I’m trying to get some of them to be produced soon!”--Thundercracker

“You seem to have a lot of good ideas here. But you might want to go over some of them again. I don’t think human’s have a last name like ‘Boyfriend’.”--Buddy

“I mean you can help me out as my editor. Just as a thought.”--Thundercracker

“Sorry kiddo, not my thing. I am however invested in how this one human having a crush on this other human that sounds suspiciously like Ms. Marrissa Farborne.”--Buddy

“Umm…”--Thundercracker

“And your love interest here kind of reminds me of y—”--Buddy

“HEY! Buster wants to play with you now! Isn’t that right Buster!”--Thundercracker

“Arf!”--Buster

Each seeker tries to keep Buddy longer each visit.

None want Buddy to leave.

Buddy never stays, but they always come back at the end of the day.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #transformers idw #idw starscream #idw thundercracker #bot buddy #idw transformers #idw skywarp

[marlynnofmany]

A Mystery Easily Solved

I’ve got to say, one of the best things about working on a courier spaceship is the downtime. Sure, some deliveries need constant monitoring, and some days we all need to multitask on other moneymaking ventures to make ends meet. But other times we’re doing fine moneywise, and there’s a nice long span of time until we reach our destination.

Today I was spending that time reading in the crew lounge, lying sideways on the couch so I didn’t fall through the tail gap, with Telly the ship’s cat purring against me.

Originally she was The Human’s Animal, restricted to my quarters, but that didn’t last long. Her adorable nature and pestcatching abilities won over everybody, even those of the crew who had exoskeletons that couldn’t properly appreciate how soft her fur was.

I was stroking that mismatched fur with one hand and holding up my reading tablet with the other when Mur walked quietly through.

(I say walk, though really there should be a different word entirely for movement that involves that many tentacles slapping against the floor.)

Anyways, I didn’t really pay attention. I was busy reading, and the lounge was open to anyone. Apparently the rest of the crew had other things to do, which was really their loss.

I didn’t notice when he walked by the first time, but when he came back, he was moving weirdly slowly. I peered around the tablet.

Is he trying to sneak up on somebody out in the hall? I wondered. He wasn’t looking at me, and the expression on his blue-black squid face was one of frowning concentration. I didn’t interrupt.

He moved into the hall, and did indeed have a conversation with someone there, but it was a hushed one that made me even more curious. I lowered the tablet as Mur came back in the company of Paint.

She also looked serious — a mottled orange lizardy person who was colored like the Painted Sunset she was named for, and who was rarely quiet or still. She seemed to be looking for something.

“What’s up?” I whispered. Telly flicked an ear, but only settled in deeper, still purring in a way that said she wasn’t going to give up her comfy spot any time soon. I kept stroking her while I set the tablet on the end table.

“There’s a mystery sound,” Paint whispered back. “Mur said it sounded like an engine problem.”

“We shouldn’t be able to hear any engines in this room, at least not that loud,” Mur said. “Did somebody leave a bit of machinery under a table?”

He seemed honestly baffled, and I hid a smile as it dawned on me what they might be hearing. “Which direction is it coming from?” I asked. “Is it over here?”

They did some careful listening and moved closer.

Mur climbed up on a chair. “Are you doing it??”

I shook my head, grinning and still petting the cat. “No, but you’re close.”

Paint moved in with her head turned sideways for listening. “Oh!”

“Oh what?” Mur demanded.

I shifted position just enough to disturb Telly, who stopped purring and raised her head with a meow of objection.

Paint laughed. “It’s the cat!”

Mur pressed tentacles against his own face. “I can’t believe I forgot they make engine noises.”

“They do,” I said with immense satisfaction, petting Telly again. “And I believe that serves you right for the tentacle-pop noise I couldn’t figure out awhile ago.”

He sighed like a deflating balloon. “Yeah okay, that’s fair.”

“How does she do that?” Paint asked, joining me in running a hand across Telly’s fur. “Oh, she’s so warm!”

Paint’s people are called Heatseekers for a reason. I told her, “She might sit on your lap if you’re still.”

Paint was of course delighted by this idea. Mur threw several tentacles in the air and declared he was off to do something productive with his time.

“Have fun!” I said. “We’ll be here petting the engine noises.”

He grumbled as he left. Telly made more sleepy meows when she was moved from one spot to another, but with two pairs of hands giving her ear scritches and attention, she settled down again.

Her purrs were loud, and Paint’s grin was full of joy.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #cats #the sequel book is going well btw #just wrote a long conversation about food #and those are always fun in a multispecies setting

[clemkruckinnie]

hiiii!!! the lack of opla nami fics is literally a crime, so ill make a request!!, how about a opla nami x fem reader where nami is laying her head on reader’s lap while reader feeds her pieces of tangerines, i was thinking about this the other day and it seemed so cute, anyway ty!!

saccharine- nami x reader

cw: tooth rotting fluff, allusions to smut

it’s a warm, breezy night aboard the going merry.

luffy and usopp are animatedly sharing stories with one another, both talking and gesturing so fast you can barely keep up with what they’re saying. zoro watches them, trying to figure out what in the world they’re talking about as sanji cooks dinner for all of you. you’d been assigned the role of sous chef for the night, peeling tangerines so he could make them into tarts. you’re so preoccupied with your task that it takes two calls of your name for you to respond to your girlfriend.

“where’d that head of yours take you to this time?” nami teases you gently, sitting next to you on the bench. you shrug, smiling at the softness in her tone, the kind she saved for you alone.

“was thinking about the first time i tried a fresh tangerine.” you explain. “nojiko was so surprised i’d never had one, she almost forgot how pissed off she was that we’d found her.”

nami laughs, warm and bright, and you feel your heart pound like it’s the first time you’ve ever made her laugh. “i can’t believe you went so long without having one. feels like this was all i ate as a kid.” she recounts wistfully, playing with one of the pieces of the peel you had set down. suddenly, her eyes light up, and before you can ask what she’s doing, she snatches a piece of tangerine out of your hands, popping it into her mouth.

“hey!” you laugh, nami giving you a mischievous smile and shrug of her shoulders as she finishes the piece. “sanji set these aside for the tarts tonight!”

“you know we’ll have extra!” nami shrugs. “besides, sampling the food while you make it is half the fun.”

you’re about to respond when an idea pops into your head. you move so you’re sitting cross legged, patting your lap with your free hand. “here.” you guide nami to lean down, her catching on and laying sideways so she can put her head in your lap. once she’s situated, she rubs her cheek against the skin of your thigh, the ticklish sensation making you giggle.

“i love that sound.” nami tells you earnestly. moving to look up at you. she tilts her head towards your hands, you taking it as your cue to give her another piece.

“my laugh?” you ask, placing the slice into her mouth. she nods as she chews the tangerine. to her, your laugh sounds like the wind in the sails of the ship, the chimes in the orchard she’d grown up in.

“might be my favorite sound.” she tells you earnestly. “seconded only by luffy’s snoring because of the peace it brings.”

you laugh again, looking up to 2 sets of brown eyes looking at you inquisitively.

“what’s so funny?” luffy asks, you looking down and laughing again as you make eye contact with nami.

“the lovebirds are making fun of you.” zoro tells him, smirking when nami sticks her head back up to glare at him.

“oh, nami! didn’t see you there!” luffy greets her, unphased, as he turns his attention back to usopp. the two of you break out into another bout of laughter.

“less laughing, more peel- oh, come on, now.” sanjii catches you in the midst of giving nami another piece of tangerine, throwing his towel over his shoulder, hands on his hips.

“leave it to you two to turn a task into a display of affection.” he playfully scolds you. “please tell me we still have enough for the tarts!”

“i’ve only been giving her the small pieces.” you defend yourself meekly, cradling nami’s head with one hand and grabbing another tangerine with the other.

“well, all right.” sanji directs his attention back to the vegetables he’s chopping.

“as long as there’s plenty of meat, i’m okay!” luffy chimes in.

“i’m still going to try and get a vegetable in you, i don’t care if i have to sit with you like a child-“

sanji is cut off by luffy’s exaggerated groan, the two of them starting to bicker as you direct your attention back to nami.

“they taste sweet?” you ask, nami nodding as she swallows another piece.

“can think of something sweeter, though.” nami teases you, lightly raking her nails against the side of your thigh. you look up to make sure your crewmates are still distracted before you look back down.

“after dinner, i’m all yours.” you assure her, face flushing as she smiles up at you.

“i’ll hold you to that.”

#one piece #one piece live adaptation #one piece x reader #nami #nami x reader

[nerdieforpedro]

She made me Feel

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

My blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.8k (double the length of the original - because Din thinks a lot)

Summary: The Mandalorian constantly weighs different scenarios concerning the safety of his child and himself. Din Djarin's mind is now riddled with possible ways to interact with you. Can he figure it out?

Warnings: Din is a pile of nervous beskar, Din is also clueless, Peli is a menace to Din, awkward conversations, Din being so soft, mention of blood and injuries, first aid, HANDS, basically fluff (the fluff is back a little?)

Notes: The follow up to He Told Me His Name. Din might be a tad anxious. It's a companion piece to my other fic. I might do one where it shows where they are now. I thought Din's perspective would be good to see. The dividers are by the talented @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin - The Mandalorian Masterlist/ Our Journey Across the Star Ocean Series

I wasn’t aware Peli had anyone human working with her, only those damn droids. I first saw her repairing one of them, her hands working skillfully with the wires. I wondered why she was here. Her hands could be doing much more delicate work. She finished with the droid and sent it on it’s way. I asked Peli about her and apparently she normally works with droids and I did state that I only wanted Peli and her approved droids on my ship when I first started getting repairs here.

I couldn’t say then that I didn’t mind if she joined Peli in her work on the Razor Crest. I already can’t deal with Peli’s teasing today as she asks about my interest in her assistant. Grogu has already tested my patience with his tantrums about frogs. I told the annoying woman that my curiosity extended to her because she seems much more sane than you and your army of half-functioning droids. Peli did not take that well. She hit me with one of her wrenches. That will bruise.

When the ship needs maintenance, I keep an eye out for her now and she is always repairing some droid or another. She manages her tools as well, cleaning them, polishing them. Despite the grease and grime, her hands look soft and graceful like the rest of her. I wonder if I should offer to assist her with one of the droid’s repairs? 

Dank ferrnik, Peli noticed me watching her arrange her tools. She’s begun with the comments again… I endured only because Peli agreed to have her work on the Razor Crest now. I don’t give two wookies what Peli says, I have never slobbered like a blerg over anyone. I just…respect that she’s an expert. Similar to me with weapons of my clan. 

This time I managed to say hello. Maker it’s nerve wracking. She may be equally as nervous. She only said hello back and looked at her tools. This is a complete mess. I hunt bounties for a living, talking to a woman is not impossible. Just difficult, small talk is painful. Peli has a smug look on her face. If she wasn’t so well acquainted with my ship and cheap I’d…well I’d threaten to go else where. She is here. I would rather not.

Now we exchange greetings with some pleasantries. About business and droids…the only damn thing those buckets have ever been good for. I was able to say a few sentences to her. She replied with her own. I am unexpectedly happy about this. I want to talk to her longer but not a clue what to talk about. 

Maker, why am I even trying so hard? My only focus should be on my Creed and my foundling. My eyes are always drawn to her, watching her. I thought at first it was similar to one of my bounties. Watching and waiting. I know patience and timing with my jobs as they’re for credits and when I can find it, beskar for our covert but I do not want to wait for her to come over to the Razor Crest. I want to go to her but I realize that a figure clad in armor and weapons head to toe is rather…intimidating. I think I’ll carry Grogu when I go over, that should make me seem less fearsome.

Despite napping, my foundling has proven most useful. We spoke at length about him. For almost an hour, I believe. I find myself less nervous and I believe she is as well. Peli spoke to me outside of the Razor Crest away from my dear mechanic. She’s proposing that I bring her with me. One of the few good ideas Peli has had since I started having this woman repair my ship. 

I waited until my next trip to ask her. I needed to find the right words. I thought I had them but the eluded me after I greeted her and asked how she was. She greeted me with the same smile that she’s given me that last few times I have been here. Maker I hope she’s open to the idea. Seeing her smile daily would be…should…should I be courting her? I feel this strongly about her. I may have missed a few steps in this process. No matter.

“Can I ask you something?” Din is still nervous, but he is slightly less so in the familiar space of the Razor Crest. It’s cold metal echoes his own beskar. The only source of warmth, the woman who he has an important question for. A want, he told himself but was quickly becoming a need. She nods, setting her tools down and wiping her hands on the worn apron she often wears to protect her clothes. He had her full attention. As much as he was worried to have it, he relished in it for a moment before cleaning his throat.

“Sure Mando. What is it?” Thankfully she couldn’t see his face grimace at the nickname. That was for people he wanted to keep at arm’s length, not those he wanted close. It wasn’t something he’d put much thought into as he’d been a Mandalorian since they’d taken him in and been taught their ways. He was certain that only his brothers and sisters in the coven would know his name. His son Grogu had opened his heart to truly caring for another person again. Din had wondered if he was longing for the same type of relationship with her as he saw in his coven between riduurs. Maybe down the line. I don’t even know if I want that now. I just know I’d like her to be with us on our journey wherever we go.

“Would you like to come with Grogu and I? It would be better if we had a capable mechanic with us.” Din stood quietly and waited for her answer. He held his breath and exhaled when she said she would think on it.

“Are you leaving again soon?” She asked him, the delicate hands he watched so often kept folding a corner of her work apron back and forth. He understands the feeling, it’s the same as when he inventories and cleans his weapons and especially his beskar. It’s soothing, he would have found this to be pleasant if it wasn’t his question that had made her need it. A similarity between them, other than a shared soft spot for a certain green child and a large pre-empire craft that they chatted about. “I want to give you an answer but I also want to think about it properly.”

Din nodded and let her be. “I don’t leave again for a few days. Take the time you need.” She didn’t outright say no so there was a chance. As it turned out, she later said yes the day after next. One step forward, she was joining him and Grogu on the Razor Crest. He remained quiet most of the time with her, just happy that she was here with them traveling. 

The small incidental brushes began when they would work in tandem to make repairs to the Crest. The shoulder bumps, her hip bumping his thigh when she would turn slightly to reach for a tool or to maneuver to manipulate wires. He noticed she would move away from him and he was worried that he was crowding her but she mentioned something much worse, “Sorry Mando, I take up a bit of space. I think-“

“No mesh’la you don’t. We just need to figure out a better method to complete the repairs. Please, you are…” I paused. What did I want to tell her? How can I say it? Maker I don’t even know… “You are fine as is. You take up as much space as you like.” Dank Ferrnik….what does that even mean? She turned away from me and I felt like an idiot. This would be the time I don’t bump my helmet on something while fixing this ship.

“Thanks Mando. No one’s ever quite put it like that.” He heard you laugh and his fears were quelled. Thank the Maker you were so understanding. But he worried about what you may have said about yourself. That was when he decided. I don’t think I should hope that we touch anymore. I think I can make it more purposeful. So she’ll know that I find her beautiful and that’s part of courting right? Maybe I should have asked different questions of The Armorer and Paz when I was back on Navarro. No only The Armorer, Paz pisses me off too much and I will not owe him any more than I already do.

At the market, I made sure to touch between her shoulder blades on her back to guide her as Grogu’s pram floated next to us. She didn’t flinch, and I didn’t want to touch lower back because that would be inappropriate. I do wonder…sometimes. But only wonder. 

I began picking up bounties and would need her and Grogu to stay on the Crest to be safe. That doesn’t seem fair, she said she wanted to see the galaxy. I can teach her some self-defense and how to shoot a blaster so I’ll feel slightly better about leaving them alone. Her hands are small in mine, still so gentile, except with a wrench. She was nervous but got the hang of it fairly quickly. We keep practicing until her aim improves. I encourage her every time we make a stop to shoot and she does. I’m trying to make my voice sound softer I suppose, I’m not really sure except outside of Grogu how that sounds. She responds to it and smiles more often, we’ve grown closer and I’m thankful that she’s making progress but it’s slowed some so I can continue to mentor her. 

Maker I have ulterior motives when I do. I can’t think of another good reason to touch her. 

I couldn’t help it. She was holding Grogu and trying to explain the different bolts to him. I bet he was trying to play with her tools while she was sorting them. I placed my hand on her shoulder. It felt like it should be there. She looked up at me and I nodded. I hope she took that to mean that I’m fine with her holding my son. I walked away because I didn't know what to say. She didn’t say anything either. 

I’m lying to myself. I’ve long accepted her holding my son. The Crest wouldn’t be the same without her here. Waiting for me, playing with Grogu, walking through the market, sitting in a comfortable silence in the cockpit. I even look forward to checking my weapon inventory when she’s checking her tools and at the same time. I didn’t think occupying the same space as someone would be so rewarding, well in a different way than my son. Should I tell her any of this?

No. It’s too much and I’m not even sure what this is.

Now wherever we go, I ensure I’m guiding her by her arm, back, or hand. I know I wouldn’t really lose her, she’s clever and would find Grogu and I quickly. The fear is there, I don’t want her to leave, she might want to one day. This life isn’t made for the masses. She’s voiced no complaints. What would I even say if I had to convince her to stay? 

The hunt didn’t take long and this bail jumper is annoying. The only reason I haven’t said I’m putting him on carbonite is that he finally shut up. 

We’re back to the Crest and there’s blood. Too much blood. I put him on carbonite as I spot her and Grogu. He’s a few feet from her, appears to be unarmed. I don’t detect any other life forms on the Crest. The child's scream feels like it will pierce my helmet, I can’t blame him. I too want to scream at the sight. She’s face down and her back is entirely wet with crimson. I ripped her shirt and bra to visualize the wound. It’s large, nearly the entire width of her back, part of her shirt has stuck to the wound. I’ll need to rip more to see, but then her back will be fully exposed and she’s vulnerable as is.

“I apologize for this. I’ll need to cut off the rest of the back of your shirt to clean and apply the spray and…” This is so much different when it’s someone you care for. “It may be easier for me to do if I remove my gloves. They’ve become too slick with your blood. Is that alright?” It feels silly but I need to ask, I need to know it’s okay. I need to let her choose, I already ripped her shirt without asking.

“It’s fine Mando. Do what you need to do. Grogu’s okay right? I didn’t get any blood on him, I think.” She’s worried about my son at this point?! Maker I…I need to focus for her sake. It’s been months since I took off my gloves near another person. I dabbed her back with gauze to remove the residue from what looks to be some local fauna that are quite violent. Their secretions inhibit clotting to weaken their targets and so they can gorge themselves on their blood. Next, I applied pressure to try and get the bleeding to stop enough so the bacta spray will work and won’t wash away in her blood. It appears after a few minutes the bacta spray is holding and the bleeding is slowing further so I apply pressure dressings and make them tight. It may make her a bit sore but the bleeding should stop with this. 

I need to keep watch over her. I placed her in her bunk and wrapped her up tightly. I need her to rest and recover. I want her to wake up and we have more moments, more time. I don’t want her to leave but after this…I can’t blame her. 

She woke up! “You’re awake? Has the pain subsided? I should check-” She shushed me before she sat up. Pulling the blanket back around her should keep her cool. Before I fell asleep beside her, I charted our course back to turn this bail jumper in. I apologized to her. She recalled her training and how she kept Grogu safe. Part of me is proud but she still was hurt badly, I could have lost her. “Mesh'la you were not safe. You were hurt badly. Do…I would not blame you if you wanted to leave.” Words I won’t want to say but do anyway. I want to beg her to stay but it wouldn’t be right. She’s not a warrior like I am. She wanted to see more than the Peli’s garage. I can’t give her that without danger. 

She holds my bare hand and tells me, “I refuse to go. I will not. You’ll have to toss me off. I’ve seen so many things and places and I want to see that much more. You’re stuck with me Mando.” This isn’t the threat she may think it is. “I’m not going to but. I just don’t want to go.” First my son and now… a partner. Someone who wants to be by my side. 

“I am called Din. Please do so while it’s just the three of us.” My thumb stroked her palm and she chuckled. I wonder if I can make her laugh more maybe daily. “You will remain and hopefully I will hear more of your laugh.” Your smile only grows with his answer. “Please rest for now. Our journey isn’t over.”

I told this to her three months ago. Sometimes in the cockpit when the three of us are sitting, I remove my glove and reach across where her warm hand awaits mine as I speak her name. I’m happy to hear my name from her lips when we’re alone. A glove is what I can give her now. When she smiles softly at me I want to give her more, so much more of myself but I’m not sure how. Learning more of her and loving her as the shape of our relationship changes.

I wonder where else she may allow my hand to go. How else she may say my name as we travel and see the galaxy. Will I change the way I say hers? I wonder if I can tell her that she's both my mesh'la and my cyar’ka. Is it still too soon? Maybe as we continue to explore the intimacy we now share, then I can tell her.

Our journey together continues. This is The Way.

Part One. Part Three

Space Buddies 🚀: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepills @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin x reader #A Nerdie fic

[thepepsislvt]

we got some Bartolomeo head cannons now because this is my account and i said so >:(

Bartolomeo x GN! Reader

warnings: nsfw minors dni! read it if u want i cant stop you but dni!

(this is my first time in a while writing anything nsfw i hope i did okay)

SFW

Bartolomeo whos never been in a real relationship before. People where always to scared of him

Bartolomeo who treats you just like the Strawhats if not more crazed

Bartolomeo who is scared of showing you any kind of physical affection because he is scared he might hurt you. but the second you so much as hug him he will be all over you. you need to show him first it’s okay to touch you

Bartolomeo who makes up excuses to have you touch his hair. He can’t seem to figure out how to style it? you’re helping him. He thinks there is something like a leaf in his hair? he’s sitting down in front of you. he will even straight up ask you just to pet his hair.

Bartolomeo who goes on rants about Luffy and his crew and how he got to help them in Dressrosa. you listen to him every time even though he has repeated the story several times. It’s so cute to see him i excited (hes autistic like me guys)

Bartolomeo who still hasn’t kissed you yet throughout your entire relationship because he thinks his teeth will get in the way or poke you

he sits with a shocked face when you kissed him for the first time

he then asks you every 5 seconds for another kiss until you finally shut him up with a longer one

“Can i get another one sugar? please? this is the last one i promise” he asked oh so innocently while holding you in his lap with his arms around your waist

You decide to humor yourself and give him yet another little peck on his lips.

you didn’t mind him asking you but you wished he would just take action and kiss you himself

“okay I lied that wasn’t the last one-“

you don’t know if he was going to say more or not so you just gave him a long and loving kiss. you only pulled away from him to regain your breath and to see the look on his face

He sat there in silence before he hugs you closer “you should totally do that again!”

he will consistently keep asking for more kisses no matter what you’re doing

Bartolomeo who really likes to brag to his crew how amazing you are and how he totally asked you out first

you asked him out first in reality but you’ll let him have his moment

Bartolomeo who seems all tough and mean to everyone else but you see a side of him not many other people do

he is really just a big softy and i love him

NSFW

Bartolomeo who didn’t know how to ask for sex

he not only is terrified of you saying no and leaving him

but also he is just a big guy

being 7’3 will definitely give you some length and it’s probably gonna hurt since you’re over a foot shorter than him

Bartolomeo who masturbates for the first time with you on the mind the day you first kissed him

he feels guilty but he couldn’t help but feel a little excited

he took one of your shirts from your room and held it up to his nose to fill his senses with your scent

Bartolomeo who makes frequent trips to your room to snag something else or to replace what he has taken already every time you are off the ship or sleeping

Bartolomeo who frequently imagines you touching him and praising him

he almost nuts immediately when he can hear your voice in his head calling him a good boy

Bartolomeo who thinks he gets away with stealing your underwear and then returning them a couple days later

you knew all along

you would have been oblivious if you didn’t have a limited supply of clothes while being in the ship

you even found a bunch of feathers from his coat one day while preparing to do laundry

Bartolomeo who is terrified when you walk in on him pleasuring himself and grunting your name

Bartolomeo who starts apologizing immediately and promises never to do it again thinking you were mad at him

Bartolomeo who is absolutely floored when you get on your knees in front of him

Bartolomeo who stares at you with wide eyes and whimpers loudly when you take his cock into your mouth

As you take more of him into your mouth, he has his hand on your. he doesn’t guide you, he just needs to hold onto you somehow.

When you start moving your head faster up and down, you wrap one of your hands around the rest of him that you couldn’t take.

He came way faster than he’d like to admit but when he did you deep throated him so he can shoot his load down your throat.

Bartolomeo was a panting mess after the best orgasm he has ever had.

He was up and ready to go for round two after you called him “good boy”

#x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #bartolomeo x reader #bartolomeo #one piece x gn reader

[thetarttfuldickhead]

If When Jamie is named England’s captain a few years from now and he’s asked about inspirational figures and captain role models, he will not stop singing Isaac’s praises. Just, the way Isaac runs a tight ship and won’t tolerate any nonsense but always has their backs and makes sure there’s a lot of fun, too, silly stuff that keeps the team close and happy and mutually supportive; keeps them feeling like family, almost. It’s Ted’s heritage, the seeds Ted planted, but Isaac’s nurtured and sustained them, tended to the garden and kept it in bloom, and added some vibrant saplings of his own.

Jamie probably names a couple of other people too, whoever was in charge when he played for Man City, someone from his academy days or England’s under-21s, people like that.

He doesn’t mention Roy. And no one asks about it, and no one thinks anything of it—

—except for Roy, who watches the interview with Keeley curled up against his side on their couch and who notices the omission with a wild jumble of hurt and wounded pride and shame and jealousy (all mixed up with the shocking, burning pride he feels for Jamie, England’s captain, fucking hell).

Because Roy knows he wasn’t a great captain for Richmond, yeah, and was a horrible captain for Jamie (though to be fair, Jamie was a horrible person to captain, and Isaac isn’t likely to have been able to handle him at full-on prick either, only Roy’s not fantastic at being fair to himself, so), but he’s still Roy fucking Kent, the best on any team he’s ever been on and Jamie’s fucking childhood idol and his fucking everything now, so to have the little prick not even mention him…

He sulks. He tries not to, because he knows it’s silly and it’s Jamie’s big day, isn’t it, and Roy’s not going to ruin it by having A Feeling, but the feeling(s) persist and he walks through the afternoon with his scowl several shades darker than normally.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Keeley asks, and Roy’s long since given up trying to bullshit her so he spills. Keeley nods and listens and gives him a hug and a kiss and tells him that yeah, you’re gonna need to let that go or actually talk to Jamie about it, because she has long since taken a stand on not sorting their shit out for them.

And she has a thing with Rebecca that afternoon (only it’s the first Roy’s ever heard of it, so he can’t help but wonder if she had a thing with Rebecca prior to Roy’s confession), so when Jamie gets home, bouncing through the door like a puppy on speed, it’s just Roy there to greet him and tell him how amazing he is and yes, of course Roy watched the announcement, your hair looked fucking fine, yes, Keeley saw it too, no, don’t worry, she’s just out for coffee, she’ll be back for dinner and let you know how very impressed she is, and it’d be easy to just let it lie, put the lingering regret away and bask in Jamie’s joy, but they’d said they’d try not do that anymore, not cover stuff up when there’s the chance they might fester, so when Jamie furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side and asks if he’s okay, Roy takes a deep breath:

“It fucking hurt my feeling when you didn’t mention me, when they asked about captains that have inspired you,” he says, and then adds before Jamie can reply, “I know why you didn’t and that’s… that’s fucking fair, innit, but. It also made me wish that I’d been. Better. A better captain. For you.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says after a long, silent moment. He’s wearing that slightly blank look he adopts whenever someone’s caught him by surprise and he’s trying to figure out how to react. “Um. Sometimes I wish I’d been less of a prick, too, you know.”

Roy nods. He knows. And it’s not absolution, and it neither erases or rewrites any of their past mistakes, but it eases the ache in Roy’s chest all the same.

“We’re better now,” he offers, to Jamie, to himself.

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees with a small sigh. He grabs hold of Roy’s hand, tugging him along as he sits down on the couch, and then he curls up against Roy’s side, same as Keeley did just hours ago. “You’re a great fucking coach, though” he tells Roy seriously. “Me favourite, swear down.”

Roy snorts a laugh as he puts an arm around Jamie. “Better fucking be, considering how many blowjobs I’ve given you this week alone.”

“Mm, fucking mint, those,” Jamie agrees thoughtfully, then jabs a finger in Roy’s side. “Oi, this is the part where you tell me I’m your favourite player.”

And oh. That’s perfect, innit. “You’re not my favourite player,” Roy says, carefully not looking at Jamie.

The noise Jamie makes are equal parts disbelieving and outraged. “Um, excuse me, mate?”

“You’re not,” Roy insists, feeling a smile tug at his lips as he innocently adds, “It’s probably Isaac.”

And Jamie huffs a laugh against his neck. And Jamie says you’re an arsehole. And Jamie says you’re me favourite arsehole, though.

You’re me favourite everything, man.

And Roy holds him tight and breathes him in and, for the moment, believes him.

#huh #that got away from me #have a sudden sunday ficlet i guess? #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #isaac mcadoo #royjamiekeeley #ficlet #my stuff

[devirnis]

“feeling each other's pulse” pleeaassseeee 🥺👉👈

Anything for you, Molly my dear!

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Rating: G Relationship: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Word count: 1.2k Contains vague season 7 spec

Eddie comes to with a burning in his chest and Buck’s name on his lips.

For a second, he has no idea where he is or what’s going on, but then sound filters in around him – water crashing, sirens, people yelling out orders – and it all comes back to him in startling clarity.

The ship shifting suddenly. Debris crashing down and blocking the exit. Water rising with no way out.

Buck looking at him, heartbreak in his eyes, and saying, “I love you.”

“Oh, thank God,” someone says above him. It might be Bobby. “Ravi, help me get him in the ambulance.”

No, no, Eddie can’t go into an ambulance – not until he knows –

“Buck,” he gasps, trying to look around. “Where’s Buck?”

A hand on his shoulder, and the ground beneath him starts to move. “Eddie, just lie still.” Definitely Bobby. “We need to transport you.”

Eddie shakes his head. Bobby didn’t answer his question. That means he either doesn’t know or doesn’t want to tell him. Neither option is acceptable. “No, I don’t – where’s Buck?”

A telling pause. “Hen and Chim are working on him,” Bobby finally says.

Working on him? Eddie’s stomach plummets. No, Buck can’t – not again – not after he said –

“Ravi, on three,” Bobby orders.

“No!” Eddie flails his arms, tries to push himself upright. “No, let me – I can help – I need to see –”

“Eddie,” Bobby says calmly. “Hen and Chim have got him. Let us take care of you.”

Eddie glances around wildly. His gaze lands on a familiar turnout with WILSON written on the back, crouched over a few feet away from him. She’s obscuring his view of Chim, but Eddie can see that he’s on top of someone, performing compressions.

“Eddie –” Bobby tries again.

“Cap, I’m not going anywhere until –”

“He’s going to be okay, Eddie. Just let Hen and Chim –”

“I’m not going –”

“We’ve got a pulse!” calls Hen’s voice.

Relief crashes over Eddie like a tidal wave. His arms give out and he slumps down onto the backboard, finally allowing Bobby and Ravi to load him into the ambulance.

He’s unconscious before the doors slam closed.

---

When Eddie regains consciousness again, he immediately knows he’s in the hospital.

If the fuzzy memories of fighting with Bobby while he was bathed in the red emergency lights didn’t tip Eddie off, the exposed feeling of wearing a hospital gown underneath starchy sheets and the beeping from various machinery confirms it. It takes a monumental effort, but eventually Eddie manages to get his eyes open. The lights are dim, so it must be night. He lolls his head to the side and sees Bobby, asleep and slumped in a chair at his bedside.

Eddie frowns; he figured that if Bobby would be keeping vigil over anyone, it would be –

Buck.

Panic surges through him as he struggles to sit up. If Bobby is here and not with Buck, then that must mean Buck is in the ICU or surgery or –

As Eddie rips the covers back and swings his legs off the side of the bed, his eyes scan the rest of the room and he realizes he isn’t alone. There’s another bed across from him, and in it is a sight so dear that Eddie nearly topples off his bed as the fear drains out of him in an instant.

Buck is unconscious or asleep – Eddie can’t tell, and his eyes immediately flick to the vital signs monitor at Buck’s bedside. Buck’s pulse and blood pressure are normal and his oxygen levels are fine, but just reading Buck’s vitals doesn’t do much to soothe Eddie’s worry. He’s seen Buck hooked up to machines in hospitals too many times before, and only hours ago Buck’s heart was stopped again. Eddie is suddenly overcome with a desperate need to touch him. He needs to feel Buck’s heartbeat, his blood pumping in his veins, and only then will the uncomfortable, anxious skittering under his skin finally settle.

Eddie eases himself off the bed, grabbing his IV stand for support. The last thing he wants to do is go crashing to the ground and wake Bobby up. He gingerly makes his way across the room in his bare feet, and lowers himself into the chair at Buck’s bedside. Reaching out, he gently takes Buck’s hand and flips it over, pressing his fingers into Buck’s wrist.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Buck’s pulse is strong beneath Eddie’s fingertips. The tightness in his chest loosens, and Eddie relaxes back into the chair, keeping Buck’s wrist in his grip. He’s alive, Buck’s alive; they’re both going to be fine.

Eddie doesn’t know how much time passes, but he finds himself slowly nodding off, soothed by the steady beat of Buck’s heart. He’s completely fine with drifting off to sleep in this chair, but then he feels Buck twitch. Eddie straightens up a little, suddenly awake, as he looks over Buck for any sign of distress. His vitals still look good, but his heart rate is starting to climb.

Buck’s face twists, and he makes a small, pained noise. Eddie’s own heart rate spikes and he starts fumbling with his other hand, searching for the nurse call button –

“Eddie…” Buck whispers.

Eddie shifts his grip, grasping Buck’s hand firmly. “I’m right here.”

Buck shakes his head back and forth. “Eddie…”

Oh god, is Buck hallucinating? Eddie’s just about to press the call button when Buck’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, his gaze skittering around frantically.

“Eddie!” he gasps again. “Where’s –?”

“Buck, Buck, I’m right here!” Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

Buck’s eyes finally land on him. He blinks a few times, like he’s expecting Eddie to disappear any second. Eddie squeezes his hand again and Buck looks down quickly before looking back up at Eddie.

“You-you’re okay?” Buck rasps.

Eddie smiles. “I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re both okay.”

Buck presses his lips together into a thin line, still clearly uneasy. Eddie can’t blame him; after all, he walked himself across the hospital room in bare feet just so he could get his hands on Buck to reassure himself that Buck was fine, even if he had the evidence right in front of his eyes.

“Here,” Eddie says. He takes Buck’s hand and touches Buck’s index and middle fingers to his pulse point, just like he’d done for Buck earlier. “Feel that? That’s my heart. I’m here with you.”

“Ye-yeah,” Buck croaks. He presses his fingers more insistently against Eddie’s wrist.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just sitting in silence, Buck’s fingers on Eddie’s pulse, Eddie’s eyes on Buck’s monitor. Buck’s heart rate slowly returns to normal and Eddie finally feels like he can breathe easily again.

Eventually, Buck clears his throat. “Do you… do you remember what I said?”

“You think I was gonna forget you telling me you’re in love with me?” Eddie teases gently.

Buck blushes, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry –”

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie interrupts. Then a horrible thought strikes him. “Unless you didn’t mean –”

“No!” Buck’s wide-eyed gaze snaps back to him. “No, I’m just sorry that I told you like that. I wish– I wish it was in a romantic setting, not a life or death one.”

Eddie brings Buck’s hand up to his lips. “Once we get out of here, I’ll take you out for dinner. That new fancy Italian place that just opened.” He kisses Buck’s knuckles. “You can tell me again then.”

Buck gives him a bashful, pleased smile. “Deal.”

(also on ao3)

#911 fic #buddie fic #evan buckley x eddie diaz #physical intimacy prompts #myfic #fic: quiet my fears with the touch of your hand #bigfootsmom #ali answers

[shroomi1e]

❝ bouquet ❞

kazuha + albedo + zhongli + childe + xiao

summary: flowers and their meanings that represent genshin men

cw: fluff + angst throughout (heavier angst on xiao)

what i listened to while writing: bouquet - ichiko aoba

a/n: i honestly had a lot of fun researching floral language and learning different flower meanings. i definitely wanna do this again but i have another idea in mind so it might be a while before a pt. 2 lol. sorry again for the hiatus (as always) but i just wanna thank you guys for supporting the blog despite the lack of content 🩷

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kazuha | narcissus: until i finally see you again

even from afar, you are always at the forefront of kazuha’s mind. he makes careful brushstrokes on a maple leaf, writing in flowers how he misses you so dearly. and when the moon climbs up to the sky, he climbs up to the crow’s nest of the ship, praying to the wind to deliver his message to you. with a final gentle kiss to seal his words, he lets go of the leaf, watching it ride the wind toward you.

and in the days he misses you, the samurai often finds comfort in nature, all the little gifts from the gods reminding him of you. the way the delicate leaves sway in the wind is reminiscent of your soft hair in the wind as you lean over the edge of the ship, the sprouting cherry blossoms of inazuma are just like your rosy cheeks after you’ve read another one of his haikus, the quiet lamp grass flowers shine in the night just as your eyes do, the melody of the birds sounds just like your soft giggles as you lay next to him, and the way kazuha brushes away the dew drops in the early morning reminds him of your fingertips wiping away his silent tears at night when the nightmares are too much to bear.

“the gods must have molded you after this world,” he thinks to himself, “for your beauty rivals that of the flowers, birds, and all that is beautiful.”

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albedo | daisy: you have made me born anew

albedo has always known that he is different from the others. too different, in fact, to fit into society. he has neither mortality nor a human purpose, only a single mission given by his master: to find out the purpose and meaning of life. despite being a pure, pristine being, he can’t help but want to be dyed in your colors. for the first time, the alchemist feels human. the steady thumping of his heart, the warmth crawling up his cheeks, and his fingertips shaking, it’s all so new to him.

albedo finally understands what his master meant. rhinedottir had never wanted albedo to run on commands, but rather pursue something that gave him a purpose, that ‘something’ being you. that’s precisely why she abandoned him with the last mission, the last question. and despite having neither status nor money, what albedo does have is his time. in a world where a century feels like a minute, the world suddenly seems to spin slower as soon as you wrap your arms around him.

when albedo caresses you and takes in your scent and your warmth, he melts into something else. he wishes no longer to be the kreideprinz, but instead the human named albedo, a regular alchemist from mondstadt.

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zhongli | bluebell: my love for you is everlasting

the geo archon’s hand trembles ever so slightly as he slides the ring on your finger. your hands feel unbearably warm against his as you slide off his gloves, revealing his dark brown fingertips with veins of gold. when you push the golden band onto his ring finger, zhongli makes a silent promise to you.

he wants his love to be everlasting, to last longer than the rocky mountains of liyue, longer than the ancient monuments and ruins, and longer than his own soul can last. zhongli knows very well that you won’t be here for long. it’ll all be one ephemeral moment before you turn to dust, but your soul will always lie with him, in his heart. he’ll carve your words into stone, he’ll shape the mountains to your figure, he’ll mold the land of liyue after your beauty, and anything else it takes to immortalize you forever.

and when you finally have to leave him, zhongli sits at the stone table on mount aocang, waiting. every day he sits there, pouring two cups of tea and admiring the scenery of the stone forest ahead of him. he knows it’s rather childish; it’s already clear that you’re not coming back.

but the ever-so-rational zhongli can’t help but imagine. what if one day you trek up the mountain and greet him just as you always did? what if you sit next to him and begin telling him about your day, complaining about that same co-worker as you always did?

it’d be such there wasn’t a cup of tea ready for you if you were to come back…

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childe | cornflower: i crave your gentleness

childe doesn’t fear anything. mighty dragons, corrupted abyssal creatures, not even the higher-ranking harbingers themselves. he is bold as ever, always the first to raise his fists or his weapon, always the first to find himself a challenge. battered bruises and scars are routine to him, and the strength of his enemies excites him.

but why is it that he so easily crumbles beneath your touch?

it’s the way your fingernails barely kiss his eyelashes and graze down to the freckles on his cheeks, counting them one by one as if you were counting the stars in the sky, that makes childe afraid. your touch feels so soft, so gentle that he fears that you might turn to dust, that this might all be an illusion of his dreams.

childe’s arms sit like lead by his side, unable to reciprocate your serene affections. what if his skin doesn’t reach yours, and he instead realizes you are a ghost? what if you shatter like porcelain under his touch? please, please just stay by his side. he doesn’t care if you are real or not, just keep giving him those same gentle touches as you are now. just at least until he falls asleep, where he can meet you in his dreams.

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xiao | sweet briar: i am wounded, and yet you're here

though most people believe the hardest battles are between xiao and the demons, it is between xiao and himself where he most struggles. every day is a tug-of-war between him and his masked self, a battle that determines whether or not he can resist the corruption that has piled up within his soul. and yet he always manages to win by a hair.

but of course, xiao has his weaknesses as well. there will always be days when his nightmares claw at his body and attempt to tear him apart, where the wails and screeches from tormented souls echo in his head. he can feel his mask getting tighter, almost as if it’s suffocating him for his sins. but xiao knows you’ll always be there. he knows you’ll come running towards him, ripping his mask off, which is now stained with tears. he knows you’ll wrap your arms around his body, kissing his forehead while muttering sickly sweet affections.

even on the days when he half expects you to not be there, you always manage to find a way. this is why xiao made his promise to you, to always be at your beck and call, even through worlds and universes. even if he's battered and frayed, he wants to embrace you at your lowest, just as you always do. whether he survives isn’t important, as long as he spends the last moments in your arms.

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a/n: i didn't mean to make zhongli's much longer than everyone else's, it just kinda happened... i wanted to add pictures of the flowers but for some reason tumblr just won't let me :((

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #gi #gi x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #kazuha #kazuha x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin comfort #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin hc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin fic

[darsynia]

Shipping and Handling | Ch 1: Vicinity

(Stucky x Reader slow burn, Steve x Reader fast burn, Friendship all around)

SERIES MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | NEXT

Summary: There's a chance you and Steve aren't the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what's happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head-- not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes.

The interference/involvement of Mistress has complicated everything. It may have also awakened something lovely enough to make navigating the ethical, emotional, and physical dilemmas worthwhile. Length/Warnings: 3,487 / sexual situations, male masturbation Prompt: @allcapsbingo April Adoptable: Sex Pollen ((I know, right??))

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreblogsfics @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee @eralen @mrsevans90 @myinconnelly1 @thorinsmistress @cjand10 (had a little hiccup with duplicated names that aren't in my backup, and some not linking, sorry about that)

Excerpt:

Steve’s outward appearance of calm is deceptive, but he can’t risk hinting at the turmoil he’s going through, so he’s trying to focus solely on gathering up the take-out menus.

It’s… not going well.

He’s not good with slow stress. Emergencies, yes. Slow-rolling catastrophes with no clear path for remedy? Not his thing, particularly not when he can’t use his strength, use his hands to make things right.

Steve groans aloud. Everything slants sexual lately. Everything.

Chapter One: Vicinity

He’s falling, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You wake up in the proverbial cold sweat, startled enough to remember only snippets of the bizarre dream-world you’d been caught up in. As if it were a natural thing, you’d been on a spaceship staring out at a planet-sized giant head, and while you were processing that part of the dream, an energy beam had struck your oval-shaped ship, cracking it apart like an egg. Because Steve had given up his buckled seat for you at the start of the voyage, he had nothing to anchor him in the emergency, and he’d been sucked out of the breach. All you could do is watch him fall away from you, knowing that you’d make things worse if you followed your instincts to rescue him.

The phone at your bedside buzzes, and you pick it up-- it’s Bucky, one of two people who bypass the Do Not Disturb setting. Despite not having performed last night, you’ve slept in, which is unusual.

“Hello?” you answer, cringing as soon as you hear the sound of your sleep-graveled voice.

“I woke you up? It’s past nine!”

You’re glad it’s Bucky and not someone who would be actually mad at you for sleeping in, but still. Not cool. “You think I keep Day Worker hours unless I have a show? Be real, Bucky, that would be annoying as hell.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Is there one tonight?”

“No, rehearsal from lunch to four for tomorrow’s, though. Nineties Night. I’m thinking I might spike my hair to match the choker I’m going to wear, what do you think?” Not really, but you apparently woke up spicy.

“Don’t, I like your hair.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, and he clears his throat with a cough and continues like he’s said something out of line. “Come to my place after and we’ll get take-out. Steve says you two have to see each other once a day anyway.”

You’ve done take-out at your place multiple times with Bucky, but you have only been to the tower once.

“It’s a-- that sounds good,” you say lightly, shifting away from ‘it’s a date’ language. It feels off to use that phrase when Steve’s involved. “What time?”

Bucky’s sigh tells you his invitation had been impulsive, and he’s annoyed to be asked about logistics. Something about knowing that without being told floods you with affection for him. “Whenever? After four, I guess.”

“Dress code?” you tease.

“Wear clothes, please. My roommate’s dealing with some things and I can’t promise he’ll--”  

You nearly choke on your own spit at his audacity, but the distinct sound of Steve’s voice in the background of the call startles you into sliding your knees up to your chest, awareness prickling all over your body. It suddenly strikes you as maybe inappropriate to hear his voice while you’re in bed, like it’ll screw up Banner’s test results, or something.

The conversation you’d had with Bucky last week about not wanting to ignore the Mistress thing in conversation with each other had clearly prompted his cheeky comment, but it sounds like Steve didn’t appreciate what he’d overheard. Ordinarily you’d call for him through the phone, but that feels possibly inappropriate too. You’re very aware of the open window’s drift of cool morning air on your bare arms, of the way the fabric of your nightgown feels on your naked body underneath. Chances are you’d be activating similar feelings in Steve, too. Just from hearing you.

The power in that knowledge is kind of intoxicating.

You decide to compromise, because the raised male voices on the other line have ceased, replaced with silence. “Bucky?” you hiss-whisper into your phone.

“You didn’t hang up? Give me that!”

Steve’s yell is loud through the phone, and you clamber out of bed, the neckline of your summer nightgown shifting over in the process, exposing your left shoulder.

“Dee?”

It’s Steve. Across from you, your dresser mirror shows a reflection that’s almost more disheveled than the day you’d met the man. The whole situation is so absurd that you actually take a second to hold up your phone and snap a picture, thinking you’ll joke about this someday, when it all blows over.

“Dee??”  

“Shoot, yes, sorry Steve, I’m just--” Mixing that image with the distress/concern in his voice has tuned your mood in a dangerous direction, and your smoky tone of voice is on board. Clearing your throat and avoiding the mirror, you say, “Sorry, go on?” The line is silent for a long few seconds.

There’s no way in hell that calling out his name right now will do him any good whatsoever.

You kind of want to do it, though.

Finally, Steve returns, and he opts for his Captain America voice. “Bucky dropped the phone when I caught him joking about this whole situation. I think the three of us might need to set some boundaries during your visit. He said around four. I’ll see you then.” He hangs up before you can respond.

You’ve been horny all day, but helpless to do anything about it. The problem is, you’ve got Rogers on the brain, and his shift to Cap mode on the phone made crossing the boundary to think of him as Steve feel wrong and uncomfortable. The good news is, your mood worked really well for the songs the band practiced all afternoon. Unfortunately, the heat of the day and the fact that the boiler’s still on in the building had all of you hot and miserable.

It’s 4:17 when you finally get out of there, sweaty blouse stuck to your back. You feel like a wilted flower, so you decide to call up a taxi service to the tower instead of walking.

As you wait for your ride to arrive, you wonder if Steve’s day was similar to yours. The good news for the evening is that the two of you shouldn’t be as keyed up as you were yesterday. Banner’s explanation of his pheromone theory had been confusing and hard to pay attention to with Steve right beside you, but you recall him saying the longer the two of you stay apart, the stronger the compulsion is.

The taxi arrives and you get inside, giving the destination as Avengers tower. Speaking the location aloud brings up something else you’ve been avoiding. Bucky’s ‘someday I’ll introduce you to my best friend Steve, we’ve known each other since he was little’ is a far cry from the reality: ‘my best friend Captain America has been famous for longer than whole generations of your family have been alive.’ 

For the first time, you realize that ‘since he was little’ has a vastly different meaning than the one you’d been assuming. Bucky really is an infuriating, lovable shit sometimes. It’s with that combination of low-level sexual frustration, amused annoyance, and bedraggled appearance that you arrive at the tower. The guy at the security counter calls the apartment with a dubious expression that makes you worried he's judging you, but the man eventually nods and directs you to an elevator.

“He’ll meet you in the hallway,” he says, leaning into the elevator car once you’ve boarded to call out a code phrase to the AI that controls the elevator. The guard gives you one last once-over and adds, “It changes every week,” confirming your suspicion that their floor is restricted.

When the door closes, your imperfect reflection in the silver coating has you scrambling to adjust the moist cling of your blouse on your breasts. Unkempt twists of hair are glued to your cheeks and forehead with perspiration, and you’d completely forgot that for an easy ego boost, you always apply performance-quality red lipstick for final rehearsal.

In short, the security guy had a point.

The doors open before you get a chance for a last once-over after your adjustments. The best you can do is a weird crossed-arms stance with your hands spread wide to obscure just how lovingly your damp red top is cupping your assets.

Thankfully, the man standing in the hallway is Bucky Barnes.

You rush out, dropping your hands to gesture at yourself. “Do you see this? Mirrors and I are enemies today,” you tell him, eyes wide. “I guess I’m lucky the guard downstairs didn’t call the cops instead of the apartment!”

Bucky trails his piercing blue eyes along your outfit, his expression impassive at first. For the first time ever in his presence, you feel a little objectified, but you shake that off. After all, you told him to look-- and given the growing appreciation in his gaze, he’s at least giving you a bit of a self-esteem boost. When Bucky’s finished, having followed through by taking in your pencil skirt and crimson sandals with his head tipped to the side, he finally looks you in the eyes.

“Nice toenail polish,” he smirks.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” you gripe under your breath. “Please tell me you have a shirt I can borrow? They still have the heat on at the venue, Babs is tearing out her hair. If the forecast is right about how hot it’ll be tomorrow night, we’ll have to hand out free cups of ice to keep an audience.”

“Yeah, but we got a gauntlet to run before that,” he tells you. The apartment door’s open, and he stands to the side, gesturing for you to precede him.

“If it’s related to another set of metal doors and a scary British voice telling me to hide, I’ll just walk home, spring heatwave or not.”

“She’s here?” Steve says from inside. He comes out right as you walk over, and both of you stop within inches of each other. “You’re late,” he says-- but the tone of his voice is the exact same stressed, desperate, needy one you’ve tried not to fondly remember. 

You almost respond with, ‘Oh, Steve, if you’re going for ‘stern,’ be careful, but you can’t imagine saying that in anything other than your flirty lounge singer persona, and that would cross too many lines, especially today.

“I got here as soon as I could!” you tell him, drawing yourself up indignantly. Steve opens his mouth to respond, but his gaze is caught first by your lips, then your shirt. You’re confronted with the effect you have on him-- a short, pained breath leaves his lips when his eyes drop to your chest and then quickly back up.  Steve’s eyes dilate, and his throat works as he swallows, twice. He’s as handsome as anyone you’ve ever met, and you’ve done more than meet. An errant (exciting, ridiculous, improper) thought rises to the surface.

This man is your lover.

You suck in a breath, unable to avoid the flood of heat you’re struck with, and your reaction breaks the spell.

“I thought we agreed on four?” he says plaintively, as though somehow you wouldn’t look like this and he wouldn’t clearly like it as much if you’d only been on time.

“All right, none of this shit needs to happen in the hallway,” Bucky says, shouldering his way past you to spin Steve around with a hand on either shoulder. Embarrassment spurs you to quickly follow, and you shut the door, leaning against it with your arms and hands once again trying to cover your clinging blouse. “You: grab the fliers from the kitchen,” your best friend instructs Steve, shoving him in the right direction. He points at you and jerks his head toward the hallway. “You: follow me.”

“Shirts. Why is it always shirts?” you ask.

“Indiana Jones, right?” Bucky says, walking into the room at the end of the hallway. He whispers something you can’t hear, because you’ve stopped at the threshold. Bucky turns around and frowns at you. “I’m not looking to ramp him up, so will you please come in here?”

He seems pretty stressed, so you swallow your worries about being trapped in yet another room in this particular apartment, and walk in a little ways. It’s not enough for Buck, whose ‘hurry up’ arm gesture doesn’t look very non-threatening with his metal arm.

“What are you--” you begin, but he interrupts from over by the closet, sliding a chunk of wire hangers over with a scrape of protesting metal.

“I said what color… undergarment? So it doesn’t show through.”

“Shit, good point, thanks,” you say, coming over. “It’s red, to match the blouse.”

To your surprise, you can see his ear turn red as Bucky coughs and fiddles with a few hung-up items out of your sight.

“This work?”

He hands you a medium blue button-down, long sleeved. “There’s, uh, a bathroom through there. I can sit on the bed, in case you’re freaked to be stuck again.”

Bucky looks like he’d gladly crawl out of his skin to avoid this entire conversation, but there he is, offering to let you change clothes in his private bathroom while he stays close enough to break you out, if need be. You’d go over and hug him if it wouldn’t make ‘awkward’ into ‘unbearable’ for him.

You nod, rushing into the bathroom to change. There’s a basket with towel rolls you’re certain a housekeeper put there, and you grab one of the washcloths to clean up with before buttoning on the shirt. It’s long, so long you spend most of the time rolling up the sleeves and trying to figure out how to tuck the tails into your skirt without looking dumpy.

Steve’s outward appearance of calm is deceptive, but he can’t risk hinting at the turmoil he’s going through, so he’s trying to focus solely on gathering up the take-out menus.

It’s… not going well.

He’s not good with slow stress. Emergencies, yes. Slow-rolling catastrophes with no clear path for remedy? Not his thing, particularly not when he can’t use his strength, use his hands to make things right.

Steve groans aloud. Everything slants sexual lately. Everything.

Leaving the stack of menus on the counter, he rubs the back of his neck and paces the kitchen. In a way, he’s in an immediate emergency right now, albeit a private one: he’s turned on, has tried to ignore it all day, but then you’d shown up late looking like that. It had taken him back to the weeks of staying away, when he’d woken late at night awash in guilt and arousal after yet another dream of the time together in his bedroom. In most of them, he’d stalked over to the light switch and flipped it on so he could see you, sweat-soaked and needy.

He sticks his head into the sink and uses the sprayer on himself in a vain attempt to cool his ardor. All that does is get water in his ears.

From the other room, Bucky says, “Steve?”

“Hang on,” Steve calls out, blindly grabbing for the dishtowel draped on the oven door. When it doesn’t come right away, he yanks at it-- and the entire door of the oven comes off.

“What the hell?” Bucky’s standing in the doorway, and you’ve crowded in beside him to see what’s going on.

“I’m not sure what happened. I just wanted to grab a towel.” Steve’s shoulders are already soaked from his wet hair, and somehow the cloth in his hand is still connected to the detached door at his feet. At least the tempered glass is still intact.

You squeeze past Bucky and come over, gently freeing the towel from Steve’s hand and crouching down to mess with the underside of the oven door. He closes his eyes tightly and starts focusing on his breathing. It’s all he can do to keep still and hide the effect of seeing you sink down to the floor, but he’d forgotten you’re not the only other person in the apartment.

“Steve.”

Steve’s eyes pop open at the menace in his friend’s tone, but right then, you stand back up, the dish towel in your hand and an amused look of confusion on your face.

“It looks like someone reinforced this crochet clasp with metal thread!”

Both of Bucky’s fists are clenched, and Steve has no idea what you’re talking about. Then he looks over at you.

You’re wearing his shirt. It’s hanging loose, and the hem extends past your hips. It’s so easy to picture what you’d look like wearing it some morning after spending the night.

“I-I need a new shirt,” Steve stammers out. Bucky has just enough time to sidestep out of the doorway, and once through, Steve runs.

He manages not to slam the door, but the way his head clunks back against the wood is probably audible in the kitchen. Pulling in huge breaths, he ignores his wet shirt and starts fumbling at his belt.

It’s wrong, he knows, but the way you look wearing his shirt, seeing you practically kneeling at his feet --Steve can’t hold himself back. He’s been on edge all day, and he’d only understood why when you’d walked back into his home in all your sexy, sweaty glory. Anticipation. Whether or not it ought to have happened, the two of you have a bond, one that includes permission for all sorts of things his mind dwells on at the most inconvenient times.

The door rattles in the jamb as he shoves his trousers and briefs out of the way. There’s no way he wants Bucky to have any idea what’s going on here, so he thumbs on the lock (it’s a fig leaf, but one that might give him a few seconds to hide what he’s about to do, if need be) and fall-walks over to the bed with his pants around his ankles. 

Seconds later, Steve has slicked up his hand, collapsing back onto his pillow with a heartfelt groan that’s as quiet as he can make it. Mistress is ruinous, because this devastating pleasure is almost rewriting his DNA as surely as the serum did. Two months ago he would never have pictured himself doing anything like this, but now he’s fucking his own fist in the same apartment as someone who could be his best friend’s girl.

Steve’s touching himself while he’s thinking about you, and he can’t-- he won’t stop. Indulging in this glorious, delirious pleasure has got to be the lesser of two evils.

Despite that conclusion, guilt wars with lust as his hand speeds up, hoping like hell that he doesn’t make too much noise. It’s maybe better than before the drug, as though his body has been rewired, away from heroism and into hedonism. Every little movement ratchets him further toward ecstasy, so much so that Steve tortures himself with variations; a twist of his hand here and there, thumb swirling the head of his cock. He's got the fleshy part of his palm crammed in his mouth to remind himself to be quiet.  

Just as he wonders how much more he can take himself apart, Steve feels his peak rising, and he’s disappointed, which brings up more guilt. You’re a real person, someone he’s laughed with. Someone he could really like.

The thought occurs that if he’s going to train his aroused brain, guilt is the worst possible catalyst.

Steve forces himself to still, to breathe.

“Change it or stop,” he whispers to himself. “She doesn’t deserve that.”

He casts around in his mind for something different, but stubbornly, not something that would force him to stop. Your body’s sated, exhausted curl on his old bed in the time before the two of you had been rescued. The way your weary, heat-tired expression had combusted into frustration at him in the doorway to his apartment. You, simply wearing his shirt.

You’ve wormed your way into intimacy with him in more ways than Steve had realized, ways he likes.

Need overcomes his willpower, and he gives himself permission for a single gentle stroke. The intense sweetness of it gives him an idea, one he’s entirely certain he might go to hell for.

Steve moves his hand slowly, tentatively, and oh fuck, he could picture you doing this so easily. What would your face look like if you could touch him with ease, with patience, without urgency?  

Ironically, this sends him into a rough, mindless frenzy, the white-hot pleasure reinforced by flashes of you in scenes of a possible future; furrowed brow cooking while you complain about how inconvenient the broken oven is, stepping out of the shower in a ratty old bathrobe, hair wet, your skin freshly scrubbed.

In his mind's eye, you're clasping his hand palm to palm, lifting your head to kiss him as he moves slowly inside you, unhurried, loving.

As his orgasm barrels through him, Steve realizes this is far, far worse for his relationship with Bucky and his fledgling something (friendship? More? Does he deserve more?) with you than simply rutting out his sexual frustration with the entire focus on his filthy, unworthy thoughts about your red blouse.

Next Chapter...

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[seat-safety-switch]

There are two kinds of people in the world. On one hand, you have the folks who get super upset when an oil tanker spills and irreversibly contaminates precious natural resources, destroying our planet in the name of short-term profit. On the other hand, you’ve got the kind of folks who immediately commission a sketchy series of near-criminals into purchasing a disused scientific trawler because some idiot left a bunch of free oil out there and I don’t want to have to do the valve cover gaskets on my engine.

All it takes, really, is a big scoop on the front of a boat. A big scoop is something we can absolutely make. Most of us have experience fabricating rulebook-pleasing hood scoops from Princess Auto snow shovels, recycle bins left out on the side of the road, road signs, and human ribcages. Still not sure how Big Al got ahold of that, and, no matter what you may think of me, I’m not going to ask him while we’re sharing a room on this tiny little research ship.

You might think that once you’ve hoovered up the oil, it’s a good idea to separate out the water, or at least desalinate it a little bit, before you put it into an engine. And we did that, through gravity. The big tank in the bottom of the ship holds all of it and we just took a bunch of soup ladles from the kitchen and put it into old pails. Refine it? Nothing doing, college folks: like I said, the wheezy-ass slant six in this Volare blows through oil so fast that it probably won’t even notice as long as it’s slippery enough. Hell, it could be expired mayonnaise, but the grocery store recently started locking up their dumpster at night again. 

Really, the worst part of all this is the attention we got. As soon as the local government figured out that we were in the area, cleaning up one of the world’s most atrocious ecological disasters, they wanted to give us some medals and invite us to give speeches. And we’re not really about that, especially because the increased attention likely means that some plutocrat-worshipping federale will start scrutinizing us out of spite, looking for a “gotcha” to punish us for making the oil industry look worse. A gotcha like “noticing our license plates are made with crayon.” You just can’t do anything nice for people anymore without it becoming so polarized, but on the plus side Shaky Earl got a great gig at the United Nations. He did have to start bringing a drip tray to work, though, because his reserved parking space was starting to look a little oily.