#i should go back and finish those sometime soon ;^^

[rxzennia]

domestic headcanons

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 ambiguous relationship (oh my god they were roommates); living together; word vomit; incoherent scenarios; ooc aven probably. i offered my exp mats to gepard instead and now i have to grind traces all over again, maybe i should build clara while i’m at it (losing this particular 50/50 has driven me insane istg)

after aventurine’s endless pestering, you finally agree to move in with him. he’s got a whole block all to himself, so what’s you temporarily claiming a room going to change?

the moment you agree, and by that i mean the very second you agree, he’s going to arrange for people to move your stuff

you just need to move yourself over

he’s not going to let you do any hard labor, that’s what the grunts are for

it’s so quick? like, it only took the morning to have everything packed, moved, and unpacked

when you get to your desk the first thing you do is clutter it up

but there’s so much space? 

you just can’t stack your stuff enough so that it’s snug the way you like 

you try, but all you’ve managed to do is make a paper fortress on one side of your desk

why do the senior managers have so much space?

but you soon realize you didn’t really need to finish building your wall of documents

because your boss sits on your desk whenever he fancies annoying you

so there’s your clutter for the other side

though you still leave a few of your spare scarves there just so it’s not completely empty

a little out of place, but you have nothing else bulky enough

it’s okay, that corner of your desk is often occupied by a certain someone anyway

surprisingly, living with aventurine isn’t unpleasant at all. maybe it’s because you’re almost always within reach now, he’s started bothering you less – instead, he’ll do his work in your office. he has a perfectly good office of his own (arguably comfier too), but he insists on sitting next to you.

frankly, you are tempted to kick him out, but this is his place. you shouldn’t try to kick out your host landlord. and it’s not like he’s actively preventing you from concentrating. you usually leave him be, but you might’ve accidentally gotten used to it – when he’s not around, you feel like something’s missing. just a little bit, though.

he can and will always poke his head over to see what you’re working on

“arranging your meetings, go away.” you push his face back towards his laptop

“hey, leave 6pm to 8pm free!” he whines, as always, he’s trying to get a dinner date(?) with you

“no can do, you’re having dinner with mr diamond.”

he will throw a hissy fit

“why must it always be meal times? i want to eat with you!”

will complain and complain and complain even if you ignore him

you give him a flat “i will be present as well.” 

you’re so bloody infuriating

he stares at you for a whole minute. and then he closes his laptop

you look at him. what is he trying to do now?

“not what i meant.” he gently whacks you over the head with the device, “you and i. dinner. alone. get it?”

normally you stand your ground and make him go through with these meetings

but sometimes you cave and indulge him

this is one of those times

“fine, i’ll push back your meeting with the media department tomorrow.”

you see literal flowers around him as he gets his way

well, not exactly his way, because if he had his way he would be free today

a compromise for tomorrow is good enough, he supposes

he will bring you out to lunch and dinner every day if he could

if only you’d stop telling him you technically don’t need to eat and just go along with it

and if only you’d stop scheduling every. single. important. meeting. during. meal. times.

still, he finds it amusing to read your face whenever you’re in those meetings with him

the only good thing about them, really

because you will have the tiniest furrow in your eyebrows when you eat something you don’t like

and it’ll last until the taste goes away (which is usually the entire meeting)

or you’ll have the most serene expression ever (though it’s more neutral than anything, really) when you find something you like

loves it when you try to not make it obvious that you like a particular dish because you’re not discreet at all

that is all you will eat for the rest of the meeting

you are given your own room, but more often than not you find yourself in aventurine’s room at night.

mostly because he drags you away from your desk – no, scrap that, it’s only because he drags you away from your desk. otherwise you would’ve kept working. or maybe gone and did some combat training. or anything but sleep, really.

you soon realize he likes cuddling you when he sleeps

this is something you’ll never deny him if he asks

in fact, he doesn’t even need to ask nowadays

you show up in his room everyday at around the same time

if he wants a nap in the middle of the day, you’ll also be there

you notice how much more quality rest he gets when you’re by his side

and how much less nightmares bothered him compared to before

(maybe you should try casual sleeping, too?)

whenever you try to slip out of his death grip to get some documents, or to use the bathroom, or for water, he will quietly ask you where you’re going

in a very, very slurred, sleepy way

you will try to explain, and all he’ll tell you as you wrench yourself out of his arms is a quiet “stay”

how are you supposed to go if he says that while letting you go?

good luck if you’re hoping to use the bathroom, most likely you’ll have to hold it in

otherwise, if you need anything else, your scarf-serpent can get it for you

although one time it returned with your documents in its mouth and drool all over it

then you had a rigorous session trying to teach them how to coil around things to pick them up

more like you had to learn, since they’re somewhat sentient extensions of you

on the off chance that you’ll be out for the night, you’ll leave your favorite scarf with him

it’s not as comforting as your person, but it does smell like you and feel like you

he’ll take it as a placeholder until you’re back :(

aventurine hates it when you’re out of office. whether it is to represent him, or to discuss matters with clients before you pass it onto him, he hates it when he’s alone at home.

odd, because he was so used to being on his own, and he was so certain he was going to be alone for the rest of his life.

this man will sit in your office regardless of your presence

your spare scarves keep him company

imagine his surprise when a bunch of faceless noodles slither onto him

he makes the connection very quickly

did not expect that every one of your scarves are mini leviathans

he thought there was only a few, and they move between scarves

a welcome surprise because he knows these huge little guys are friendly

those are the same guys that swallow monsters, so they’re actually not very friendly

but they’re friendly to him because they’re you

one of them will coil into a pile on his lap and rest its head on his thigh

and the others will be all around him

will slobber over him 100%

he will try to pet them, and will realize that they’re really affectionate with him

they will try to eat his hands

but, like, in a not alarming way

hold his hand in their maws but will not bite. only drool

when he pats the one who has his hand, it’ll let go

literally “that’s a weird looking dog” but there's more than ten of them

when you return from your errands, the first thing you see is aventurine dragging a bunch of your snakes along with him as he practically runs to greet you.

you wrap your arms around him as he jumps towards you, and you give him a few spins before setting him down again. 

then you lower your scarf

you’re comfortable enough with him to not cover yourself up anymore

oh how he loves seeing your face, aeons, you have no idea

“guys.” you snap your fingers, and the creatures collapse back into inanimate fabric

you catch all of them, of course, then you open one arm for your boss

the best part (real) 

he snuggles up against your side naturally

you lift him up easily even though both your hands are busy

he’s practically sitting on your forearm as you walk around the house

princess treatment

you’ll cuddle with him properly once you drop off your stuff

“ten minutes,” you tell him, “then i’ll have to get back to work.”

he will throw another hissy fit, like, “why are you busier than i am? i’m the boss!”

you pinch his nose and go: “exactly, mr aventurine” 

instantly droops like a kicked puppy

he doesn’t even try to hide it

absolutely hates it when you’re formal with him in private even if you’re joking

feels like you’re back to square one all over again

“don’t call me that,” aventurine groans as he grabs your hair and tug at it like a toddler.

you glance at him. “displeased?” 

“of course!” he tries to shake your head violently, but damn you and your stupid strength. “what happened to aven?”

you don’t respond 

you’re busy tossing everything onto your chair and praying nothing falls off

he moves on to slapping your face lightly

“hey, hey!” as his hands smack and grab everything that’s touchable on your head

surprisingly, you let him

he might also pull on your scarf

and after a while, he’ll resort to rubbing his cheek against yours

“are you ignoring me…?”

you sit down on the couch and set aventurine in your lap. “impatient, are we?”

“can’t help it,” he doesn’t hesitate to bury himself into your embrace. “i hate when i’m alone…”

“aven…” you pat his back, knowing full well you’re falling for his tricks again. “there, there. should i just call it a day?”

“you would?” he asks, like a child receiving a gift for the first time, “really?”

“really.” you sigh as he tugs you down into spooning him, and you watch him tangle his limbs with yours.

eventually, you pull him closer to you. jeez, there’s just no way you can win against him, is there?

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

[ithebookhoarder]

Do you have any criminal minds fics in progress? I’d love to see more of your work for them :)

A Sweet Surprise (Aaron Hotchner x AFAB!Reader)

A/N: Oh do I? Haha. Well, whilst my inbox of requests is bursting this randomly fell out of my brain, so great timing with this I guess? I promise I will get to the other stories soon people - in the meantime, enjoy xxx

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then visit my Ko-fi here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of pregnancy, Aaron being a protective partner

Masterlist

“Aaron, honey, stop," you giggled, trying and failing to wriggle free from your husband’s wandering hands. "I swear, I am fine. Don’t make me banish you back into the living room. You know Garcia has been dying to get you to play Monopoly and, so help me God, I will tell her you’re dying to be the shoe.“

Aaron’s laugh was infectious and if you weren’t so stressed you’d have melted into him. Instead, your eyes narrowed into a warning glare as he reached for you again. 

“I just think you should let me help you, honey-” he pleaded, falling silent as soon as you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen doorway. You glanced up, watching as your host for the evening, Rossi, appeared, an empty glass of wine in hand. He had clearly come in need of a refill of whatever expensive vintage he had cracked open for your monthly team dinner. 

“Help with what?” he teased, watching as Aaron sheepishly stepped back, as if he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Aaron, you may be the boss in the office but in the kitchen? We both know Y/N is the only one I trust to help me cook, so leave her be and come relax in the other room, ok? She clearly has dessert handled.” 

“Thank you, Rossi.” You smirked, pushing Aaron back with a floured covered hand. “I told him I could handle a pie, but you know what he’s like.”

“I’m just offering to help.”

“Which I thank you for, but I got this,” you assured, even if he clearly disagreed. 

“I know, but it’s been a long day, why don’t you let me finish this-”

“Aaron Hotchner, go and sit down. Now.”

Rossi’s eyes widened as he let the bickering continue, waiting until he had finished filling his glass before he decided to weigh in again. He knew the pair of you better than you knew yourselves sometimes and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what was going on here. 

Aaron was protective of those he loved at the best of times, but something was different - and considering you hadn’t touched any of the drinks that had been put in front of you tonight, he had a pretty good idea what.  

“Aaron,” he sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, come have a drink with me and the team. We both know Y/N is going to be ok. She’ll join us in a minute, or she’ll ask if she needs help.” 

"But-"

"Leave the poor girl alone," Rossi teased, shooting you both a knowing look. “Otherwise, you'll give yourselves away before we even get to dinner.”

Aaron coughed but failed to hide the shock on his face. It was no use either of you trying to deny it, not when your closest friends were also profilers. If anything, you were surprised you two had been able to hide it this long - and it had only been a mere week since you’d first told him the good news. 

“Ah,” he choked, turning slightly red. However, he relaxed as soon as you turned and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He could see you were relieved by the discovery, rather than upset, and that was enough to make him remember who it was he was sharing the news with. 

"Ha! I told youuuuu,” you sang smugly. “And now you owe me $50. I knew you’d be the one to give it away.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I will.” 

“Well, congratulations to you both,” Rossi said simply, lifting his glass in a silent toast. He then shook Aaron’s hand and reached to pull you into a hug of his own. However, it was he went to let you go that he paused. “And Y/N? If you do need a break, or want me to finish dessert, I can-“

"Oh my god, Rossi! Not you too,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Are you going to tell anyone?”  

“Oh, hell no,” he chuckled. “Given your performance tonight, I want to see if you can manage to keep it a secret from the team until dinner, let alone until work on Monday."

"So much for the being the best profilers in the US," you snorted, remembering how it had been Jack who had first worked it out rather than his usually observant father. He'd been the one to spot the pregnancy pamphlets hidden in your purse, after digging to find the candy he knew you always kept in there.

Of course, he'd only reacted with excitement upon learning he was going to be a big brother - leading to him bursting into the house, asking when he'd get to play with his new sibling... yeah, you'd thought Aaron was about to pass out he went so white.

“Hey, now. In my defence,” Aaron protested, “you're not showing yet."

"So my weird ass craving requests didn't tip you off?"

"Honey, you eat so much weird shit normally... Like, so much. Even Jack wouldn't eat half the stuff you do."

Well, he had you there. "... You still owe me $50."

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #david rossi #david rossi x reader

[nonbinarycharmybee]

My favorite thing about the chaotix is they never explain where Charmy came from or how Vector acquired him or anything. And I think that's very funny.

it's SO funny when you think about the implication that Charmy was a doorstep baby - or at the very least, Vector has been (and currently is!) raising him and STILL considers him to be a coworker. like my dude you were probably there when the kid took his first steps who are you trying to fool.

#i love this team dynamic im obsessed #that reminds me of the two chaotix fics i have on the backburner #one is an origin story and the other is Vector Having A Six-Years-Delayed Crisis About Being A Parent #i should go back and finish those sometime soon ;^^ #ask #livingthewritelife-things

[mrsbarnesblog]

Mattheo Riddle headcanons

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning

Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.

sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀

Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general

Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak

You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore

He hated it

He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks 

Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill 

He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else

At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time 

Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates

He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm

Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane

So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips

Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you

Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs

Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars

He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours

Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room

Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you

Whispers sweet nothings

Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair

He wears rings and allows you to steal them

His hoodies and t-shirts too

Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls

Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you

Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you 

So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you

He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you

Possesive

When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself

Always sarcastic and sassy

Fights a lot 

He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound 

Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you 

He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you

Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds 

Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure

You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again

The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle

Can’t sleep without you in his arms

spicy

During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not

Praises. A lot of fucking praises

“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.” 

He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face

There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex

Gets turned on literally by everything you do

He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around

Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)

His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy

Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you  

He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him

He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.

Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him

He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle

Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can

Eye contact

He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt

He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes

Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood

After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure

By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him

He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you

Love confessions 

Aftercare is a must

Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want

He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you  

#slytherin boys #harry potter fanfiction #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fanfic

[beforeimdeceased]

hey bae! if you’re still taking requests could i please have something fluffy with mean! ellie and sensitive/soft! reader. it can be whatever u want, loving the pink theme btw 🎀⭐️!

CRYBABY! - (E.W)

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: you’ve had a seriously bad day, and now you’re stuck with the shittiest person you’ve ever met while you wait for your friends to get home.

a/n: thank u for acknowledging the theme! it took so long to put together 😭. also i really hope this fulfills your request. would you guys want a part 2 w/ smut this time?

“crybaby, crybaby. we need to cry. and if we do, i know that would be alright.” — edit

masterlist.

ellie fucking williams was an exceptional singer, guitarist, and had incredible stage presence. but more importantly: she was an asshole. a complete fucking dick, and not just the usual “too good for everyone” cocky. she was crude. she was vulgar and she knew exactly how to push people, you specifically. sometimes you thought that she walked around asking for a fight to prove herself to people. now, you think it’s so she can finally feel something. even if it’s a mind spinning jab at her face.

you did your best to stay away from her, despite you sharing friends; jesse and dina. you knew exactly how she was and you knew you couldn’t handle it. no matter how many times you tried to let her little remarks brush past you, you always found yourself wanting to go lower. and each time you were around her it got harder to bite your tongue.

today was a bad day. a shit day. one of your worst. you found fraudulent activity on your bank card, got hit with a frustratingly large and urgent bill, and your washing machine broke. all in the span of an hour. the customers at your job had been extra rude and to make matters worse, your manager yelled at you for a mistake you didn’t even make.

all you wanted to do was go over to dina & jesse’s and eat brownies while they treated you like the child they’d yet to have. dina rubbing your back and reassuring you that everything will be okay while jesse threatens to beat all your enemies bloody. you use the spare key you have to their apartment to messily trudge in, kicking your shoes off at the door and smiling as you open the fridge to find dina’s special 1,000 hour brownies.

“i keep telling her she should put weed in those.” echoes behind you, causing you to pause mid bite. there she is, leaning against the counter. eyes smudged with her signature stage eyeliner, sweat glistening on her skin, a tank top and her stage cargos sagging on her waist. gargling down a plastic water bottle that had definitely seen better days.

“where are dina and jesse?” you furrow your brows closing the fridge. you grab a napkin to place the brownie on, and move further back near the door away from her. just in case.

“they went to go grab some groceries, but they told me to stay here and wait for you.” she answers, finishing the bottle off.

fuck. how long were they going to be gone? you couldn’t imagine spending more than 2 minutes alone with this loose lipped devil. her eyes narrow as she looks you up and down before smiling. here she goes.

“bad day? cause it looks like it.”

“well it definitely isn’t going to get better with you around me.” you snap back.

“ouch. i’m hurt.” she laughs. deviously. a hand over her chest as she pushes off the counter to chuck the empty bottle into the trash can.

you move over to the living room, sitting yourself on the couch. maybe if you ignore her she’ll get bored and leave you alone? maybe she’ll get so bored she’ll actually leave. god, please get the fuck out of here.

she follows you though, sitting way too close for comfort and turning on the tv. you pull your phone out, immediately opening tumblr and mindlessly scrolling. hoping that dina and jesse will be home soon.

“d tells me you stopped showing up to gigs because of me. is that true?” she breaks the silence between you two. you shrug her off. “you’re not the easiest person to be around, williams.” you state.

“so what’s wrong with me? i’d love to hear it straight from the horses mouth.” she scoffs, scooting closer. when you attempt to ignore her she pulls your phone out of your hand. staring into your eyes with her very own. piercing through your soul for a response. “is it because i called you an idiot?”

“among other things, but it doesn’t surprise me that that’s all you remember.” you reach for your phone but she pulls it back. this causes you to pinch her, and she smacks your hand away still holding your phone back. “remind me then.”

you feel her taunting tone. her want— need to push at you. to push your buttons and boundaries until you break. it’s like a game to her, and you certainly weren’t in the mood for it today.

“can you give me my phone so i can find out when dina and jesse are coming home?” you sigh. her behavior reminded you of a customer you’d had earlier who’d treated you like garbage because you weren’t smiling. you felt tears welling up but pushed them down. you never cried in front of ellie. because of her, maybe, but never to her face. you’d never live it down.

“can you answer my question? so i can apologize or whatever. d is really on my ass about it.”

you scoff. “ofcourse you aren’t genuinely sorry. you probably don’t even remember all the fucked up shit you say and do to people. half of the time you ignore me and the other half you treat me like i’m a burden. do you remember when you guys had your first real show? i told the security i knew you and you pretended like i was a stranger.”

“jesse was sooo pissed you didn’t show up.” she laughs. “did he yell at you?”

“yeah. thought i was lying because you told him i was. called me a shit friend and a liar until i showed him proof. why am i the only one you treat like this?”

“you’re definitely not the—“ you reach for your phone again, but she’s quicker than you. pushing you away and laughing at your lockscreen, which was a picture you’d taken of yourself. one you felt incredibly confident in. all of that confidence was withering away slowly and you could guess it’d only been 10 minutes. “only one.”

“that’s so much worse. seriously, i don’t have time for this today. i’ll just go home.” you sniffle and fail to hide it. the tears were in the back of your throat and you felt like her personal rag doll all over again. what you’d finally gotten away from the last week was haunting you all over again. her taunting, her rudeness. she knew what she was doing and she didn’t even care.

“are you gonna cry? am i making you cry?”

you gulp, biting your lip to fight the shakiness in your voice. “just give it back.” is all you can muster up. her arm stretches up and as you reach for it she tucks it in her back pocket and sits on it.

you feel the tears begin to spill out of your eyes and you quickly turn around and lean into the couches arm. hands over your face as you pathetically attempt to calm yourself. you feel a hand on your shoulder and you push it away before realizing it’s ellie handing you back your phone.

it takes you a couple blinks, convinced the tears have obstructed your vision. the very same ellie who’d tripped you in front of a crowd of people last month, was being nice? her face has softened, genuine concern replacing the taunting gaze she previously had. she places a hand on your back and shushes you.

“i’m sorry. i’ve never made you cry before, i’m sorry.” she speaks softly. she almost seems…confused? is this what it takes to get her to realize that what she does actually fucking hurts you? for you to break down in front of her? for her to get a peek at the silent nights you’d spent sobbing over another one of her “jokes”? all this time?

you wipe your eyes and begin to laugh, which startles her and causes her to lean back. “you’re such an ass, ellie. god, you’re such a fucking dick.” you shake your head and breathe. she doesn’t respond, just stares at you with concern. brows furrowed as she concentrates on your body language. the way you’re leaning closer towards her.

“today was such a bad day.” you cry out in frustration, dipping your head into her lap. you just lay there, sobbing. she doesn’t move you, but instead rubs your back. shushing you. whispering that it’ll be okay, and you’d never admit it because it was coming from her, but you really needed it in that moment.

she pulled you in closer to her, turning you onto your side so she can rub her thumb across your cheek. wiping some of your tears away. you begin to cry even harder, but she doesn’t push you away. even when her pants are soaked and snotty. she lets you lay there, and cry into her.

#bunnie can speak? ☆ #ellie williams #・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #bun’s asks ꕤ #bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 #mean!ellie #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #williams ellie #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x f!reader #lesbian fanfic #wlw imagine #wlw fanfic #tlou headcanons #tlou fanfic #modern au #modern ellie #rockstar!ellie #ellie williams smut #ellie x you #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo frowns at his phone.

Or more specifically, at the test on his phone.

Around him, he hears the sound of his brothers tapping their own devices, much faster than he is. Looking up just makes Leo feel worse about his own progress - or lack-thereof.

Mikey’s the fastest, speeding through the test like nobody’s business. He’d been the one to make them all do this stupid test in the first place, so it makes sense that he’s having a blast.

Raph’s slower than Mikey is, but he’s still clearly answering the questions at a steady pace. Sometimes he looks unsure, but he powers through anyway.

Donnie often looks frustrated, which relieves Leo somewhat because at least someone is struggling like him. But that “struggle” isn’t nearly as big as his own, considering that Donnie is answering about as fast as Raph is.

Leo turns his gaze back down to his own test. He’s still near the beginning, he thinks.

He’d put the same answer for the past seven questions - the middle of the road answer, neither a “yes” or a “no.” Then, whenever he does come across one that is more one direction than the other, he second guesses himself and restarts the test!

Sure, there are a few he could definitely give a yes or a no to, but…never the “strongly agree” or “strongly disagree” that the test seemed to want from him.

He eyes his twin sitting nearby, the softshell absorbed in the test. Maybe Leo should copy what Donnie put for some of these…

“DONE!” Mikey’s shout makes Leo freeze in place just as he started to lean over.

“What?” Donnie squawks, “No way you’re already finished, you must’ve been cheating!”

“It’s a personality test, Dee!” Mikey stuck his tongue out, “You can’t cheat at those!”

…

Leo settles back into his seat.

Ignoring Donnie’s mutterings about how it was “just because it’s not an academic test” that he didn’t finish first, Raph smiles encouragingly at Mikey.

“Hey, good job! So what’d you get, Mike?”

Mikey looks back down at his test, reading aloud, “Says that I got the “Campaigner”!”

“What’s that mean?” Leo asks, his phone screen going dark.

“Apparently, I’m an “enthusiastic, creative, and sociable free-spirit”.” Mikey reads, smiling at them, “You think it fits?”

“Oh, to a T, bro!” Leo laughs, giving Mikey a thumbs up, making Mikey’s smile grow larger.

Inside, Leo was feeling a lot more mixed about this. He has no idea how Mikey knew himself so well. Maybe Donnie was right and Mikey did cheat, because how could he answer those questions so easily?

Leo’s phone burns in his hand. He keeps it locked.

“Wow, that really is you.” Raph says, his eyes flitting back and forth between his own test and Mikey, “Do you think it fits?”

“I guess? It’s fun to see at least!” Mikey shrugs with a grin.

“Hold on, I think…” Raph makes a noise of satisfaction, “Okay, done!”

“Sigh, now I’m relegated to the straggler group.” Donnie grumbles, his thumbs moving faster as he tries rushing through the questions.

“Ooh, what’d you get Raph?” Mikey asks, practically bouncing in curiosity.

“Says, uh…I got something called the “Consul”?” He squints his eyes to read more, “Uh, “caring, social, and community-minded.””

“Sounds about right to me.” Leo nods. Can’t be more “community-minded” than being a hero.

“Yeah, no one’s more caring than you, Raphie!” Mikey says, moving to lean across Raph’s shell.

“You do put the community in mind, that’s for sure.” Donnie states, not looking up.

Raph chuckles, a bit embarrassed, “Aw, thanks. It’s just some test, but it feels kinda good to hear that.”

Just a test. Right.

Leo unlocks his screen.

The test stares back at him.

Right. Okay. He can do this. He can.

The screen ends up going dark again.

Frustration builds up in Leo. Was he even halfway done with the test? At this rate, soon even Donnie will-

“FINISHED.”

Leo unlocks his phone.

“What’d you get, DonTon?” Leo asks as his thumb taps the top right of the screen.

Donnie puffs up proudly, a self sure grin on his face, “I got the result “Logician” which states that I, obviously, am an “innovative inventor with a thirst for knowledge.” Truly could not have described me better, if I do say so myself.”

“It is pretty accurate.” Raph agrees with a nod, “Even calls you an inventor, so extra accurate.”

“Super accurate.” Mikey jumps in, eyes shining.

“Yes, yes, almost like reading my own character synopsis.” Donnie’s grin had not dwindled since the word “innovative” had left his mouth.

Leo just nods along, eyes on his own screen as he skims the words. “Yeah, kinda creepy how close it got. Could have called you a nerd for extra accuracy, though.”

Donnie turns to him, eyes narrowing, “Have you even finished your test? I can think of a few words that’d describe you fairly well.”

“Test-y, huh?”

Before Donnie can strangle Leo, Raph cuts in.

“Ok, ok, calm it down, guys.” He rolls his eyes before turning to Leo. “But really, you’re not done yet?”

“Leo’s taking this self reflection seriously.” Mikey sports a faux intellectual expression as he gives a jokingly serious nod. “Maybe we all should’ve taken our time.”

“Says the one who sped through the whole thing in a record time.” Donnie mutters.

Leo waves them all off, “Nah, I finished it ages ago.”

He grins when Donnie immediately shoots him a suspicious glare. “Oh, you did, did you? Then what could you have possibly gotten, Nardo?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Leo clears his throat, “Neon Leon just so happens to be an “Entertainer.””

“Ah. That confirms it. This test is meaningless.” Donnie drones.

“Hey-“

“What’s an Entertainer like?” Mikey asks with a tilt of his head, still hanging off of Raph’s shell.

“Glad you asked, Miguel!” Leo exclaims, “It says that “life is never boring” around yours truly~”

He emphasizes this “result” of his by waving his phone with said “result” on screen.

It’s just an image he found of his chosen personality result, but they don’t need to know that.

Raph nods slowly, “Well, I guess that’s true…”

“”Never boring” is one way to put it.” Donnie hums.

“You are pretty fun, Leo!” Mikey says emphatically, because he’s great like that.

“Thank you, thank you, life of the party, right here.” Leo grins, pointing both thumbs at himself.

He’s careful not to go too overboard with it, or else it might tip someone off.

Not that it…really matters. It’s just a test. Like Raph said.

As the topic around him shifts to something else, jumping away from this brief activity as fast as any other among them, Leo finds himself unlocking his phone and pulling up the test again.

Unanswered questions stare at him. He knows what answers Lou Jitsu would pick. He knows what answers Jupiter Jim would pick. Hell, he knows exactly what answers his brothers would pick.

He doesn’t know what answers Leonardo would pick.

Leo stares at the test for a second longer, before he exits the site and throws himself into the conversation happening around him.

It’s just a stupid test, nothing to worry about.

Just a test…

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt headcanons #rise leo #could not ignore this idea that hit my brain haha #if you disagree with me on what personality types I gave the boys that’s fine tbh #picked mbti since it was the first one I thought of but again it like most of these tests isn’t super worth putting stock into #these tests are kinda dumb anyway but they’re fun to take #for some #anyway I love thinking about Leo struggling with his sense of identity #and in turn struggling with what is a persona and what is HIM #how much is a mask how much is built from taking traits from others how much is real how much is fake #even he doesn’t know #protagonist is probably a good choice for leo but I’m also tied to him secretly being the introverted type as well so #bit more of an ambivert maybe #he’s got aspects of a lot of them hence the difficulty answering questions #well most of his difficulty comes from an uncertainty of who he really is #again what is him and what is his mask #or masks #what even is his true self if his self is someone he’s never bothered to meet #a lot of the little details of his personality - the parts of him that we see peek out throughout the series and often on his own - #- they align with personality types that you would never think of when looking at him and his masks at face value #that’s not to say it’s all masks - he’s a goofy guy at his core - but he’s more than he lets on and we’re made privy to that in subtle ways #though fr protagonist is prob Leo’s most likely result

[hughes86-43]

Post Game | Q.Hughes

warnings - none! maybe some spelling errors! this was a draft that I had and just now finished. hope you like it!

The buzzing energy of the crowd after a harrowing Canucks win has you out of your seat cheering along with them as the buzzer goes off signaling the end of the game. The Canucks came out with a 5-2 win and you couldn’t be happier for Quinn and the team. You talk to the rest of the wags while waiting on Quinn to text you back about where to meet him after he is done with media.

Glancing at your phone, you see he sent you a text.

quinn: I’ll be only about 10 more minutes if you want to go wait by the car?

you: okay I’ll be there

Saying goodbye to the other wags, and even some fans that recognized you as Quinn’s girlfriend, you make your way to his car. You didn’t have the key, so you just leaned against the car.

Eventually you see more players making their way to their own cars, so you know Quinn should be on his way.

Petey is one of those who is making his way towards his car, spotting you he teases you by saying, “Goodness he’s making you wait out here? Man what a boyfriend he is!”

“I know? Gosh making me wait forever on him!” You say back to him laughing.

“Gosh not my best friend and my girlfriend teaming up on me!” Quinn says as he spots you two standing by his car. “It was only like 10 minutes that she had to wait,” he says walking up to you and wrapping you in a hug.

“10 minutes is way too long for her to be waiting!” Petey says shaking his head at Quinn.

Quinn just laughs, “Oh be quiet! We’re heading home now, good game tonight. See you tomorrow, wait, we do have morning skate tomorrow right?”

Petey laughs, “Aren’t you supposed to be the captain and know all these things? Yes, at like 10? Anyway, have a good night you two.”

Waving back to him, you say, “Have a good night, drive safe!”

Quinn unlocks the car, opens the door for you and says, “Let’s head home, love.”

You climb into the passenger seat and buckle up while Quinn goes to his side of the car and climbs in. You give him a quick peck on the cheek, saying, “Good game tonight baby, the crowd was buzzing at the end, it was crazy!”

“I’m glad you were here for it. I play ten times better when you’re here.” He says as he turns the heat on in the car since he knows you get cold easily. Yawning he says, “What do you want to eat? Do you want to stop for something or do we have anything at home?”

Thinking on it, you suggest, “I think we should just stop and get something since it’s late and I don’t want to cook and I know you don’t want to.”

He shrugs, “That’s fine with me. I can see you’re already getting tired so I don’t want you to cook. How about grabbing some Chinese food from that one place by our apartment?”

Nodding your head you agree with him, “Go ahead and head there and I’ll place the order to go.”

Quinn backs out the parking space and exits the garage. You place the order for the Chinese restaurant which is only 5 minutes down the road. Once he pulls into a parking spot, you guys just wait there until the food is ready. Quinn is the first to speak up, with a chuckle, he says, “Did you see me completely fall out there during warm ups, over some pucks?”

Not expecting him to ask that, you bark out a laugh, “Ha, yes I did! Don’t worry, I made sure you made it back up and skated again before I laughed…,” You say back to him shyly.

“Hmmm, I’m sure you did wait! As soon as someone falls, you can’t help but to burst out laughing, no matter if you wait on them getting up or not!” He says, as he just throws his head back against his headrest, chuckling to himself. Sometimes you just can’t help laughing at someone who falls, you’ve been trying to work on it.

“I know, but I did really wait on you to get up!” You say, checking your phone to see if you had gotten a message on whether the food was ready… no message yet.

Quinn looks over at you, he takes his hand to move some hair out of your face that is illuminating from the street lights, he says, “I know I already said it, but I’m glad you came tonight, love when you’re at the games.” Due to work, and traveling of your own, you make it to his games a third of the time, but if you can’t make it, you always make sure to have it on to watch at home or wherever you are. If you can’t watch it, you make sure to keep live updates on.

“I know, wish I could make it to more,” You say smiling at him. A ping from your phone indicates the order is ready. “Looks like our food is done, do you want to go in and get it or me?”

Moving his hand away from your face, he reaches for the door handle, “Don’t worry, I can get it, whats the name under?”

“I think I put it under Hughes, if not then it’s under my name.” He gives you a nod before opening the car door and heading into the place. You see him through the restaurant’s window, he is chatting with one of the owners (that you both have gotten to know since you both always get food from here). He grabs the bag of food, waves goodbye to the staff, and then heads out of the restaurant towards the car. Unlocking the door for him, you grab the bag of food out of his hand.

He says, “The owner says hello, and he made sure to give you extra fortune cookies since he knows love them. He also hooked us up with some extra Rangoon’s since the team won.”

“Well for that, I hope you tipped him well!”

“Of course, yes.”

Looking back over at him, you say, “Let’s head home, so we can eat all of this lovely food and sit on the couch and watch our show!”

Quinn puts the car in reverse and makes his way to the main road. He grabs your hand and thinks that there is no one else he rather spend time with after a game.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagines #nhlhockey fic #nhl imagines #my fics

[nishloves]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘;

choi seungcheol x f! reader (school au) genre : angst, fluff, childhood sweethearts, miscommunication words : 6k synopsis : both of them are just a pile of hot and unconfident messes. warnings : curse words unedited.

you sometimes sit still and wonder, was it all in your imagination? you sometimes smile at the fond recollections, of the way he would twirl your hair between his fingers whenever you would be taking notes, you smiled at the ways you both would play around the dining table of his house, giggling and screaming as his mother would cook up delicious snacks for you both— she would pat your head and urge you to eat more as you'd retort and say that you're full. you remember the way he would throw you on his back and push you down on the sofa or the bed to steal your belongings. you chuckle as you remembered the way his smile would falter the moment you had to go, promising him that you would come back sooner. although you never did, your visits to his house lessened over time and are non-existent now.

it was all in the past after all.

yet you still very clearly remembered the day you had met him.

"seungcheol!" the teacher had called out to him as you stared at him with wide eyes, all the students of class excited for the newest arrival to their class.

"yes ma'am?" the third grader looked up to his teacher and then his eyes fell on yours, a warm smile marking it's way on his face.

"help y/n to get settled in the class."

"yes ma'am!"

the children beamed at you as you blushed, your hands a little clammy as you looked around the colourful classroom, it was painted pink and green with numerous sketches pinned up on the walls, the educomp barking in robotic voice as seungcheol approached you.

"hello y/n," he smiled at you and took your hand, "sit next to me first!"

you grinned, you knew that you were going to befriend him at that moment.

"you still haven't finished those chapters?" seungcheol exclaimed as you looked at him sheepishly.

"i didn't have time to write the answers—"

"you had to take admission like three weeks before exams, didn't you?" seungcheol groaned as he pulled your notebook towards himself, your brows scrunched up, what was he doing?

"come on, I'll help you write, you have to work on english too, right?" he said as your eyes widened.

it was the activity day at school! he would have to miss all those fun things for helping you!

"you don't need to do it, seungcheol—"

"but I want to," the third grader grinned at you as he opened your notebook and started copying notes from his notebook.

"seungcheol—"

"y/n! come on! start writing your english notes now!" he commanded as you nodded at him hesitantly, your heart full of warmth as you pulled a chair beside him, trying your hardest to finish your work as soon as possible so that he could go and enjoy the activity day— and not be stuck helping you, until a teacher approached you both.

"what are you doing?"

"pending work, ma'am," seungcheol replied on both of your behalf as you looked up at the teacher.

"you have pending work, seungcheol?"

"not mine, ma'am— hers."

"then let her do her work by her own self, why are you doing her work?" the teacher said as she tried to snatch your copy away from seungcheol but, he didn't let her.

"no ma'am, let me help her!"

"you're missing your activities though."

"it's fine, ma'am;" he looked at you, a warm smile on his face, "she would feel lonely and didn't you say that we should always help people?"

"i did but—"

"so let me help her, please?" the young boy gazed up at his teacher, his eyes twinkling with happiness as the lady sighed, "alright, go ahead."

you silently gazed at the boy, no one had ever stuck up for you like that.

"you didn't have to do that, cheol."

"why?" he looked at you, his lips in a pout, "i want to help you and stay with you."

heat rushed to your cheeks as a grateful smile framed your face, you were glad that he was your friend.

"thankyou cheol," you whispered as the boy pulled your cheeks, "just let me pull your cheeks."

you groaned but you complied nonetheless, he was your first friend in this new school afterall.

"they are calling out to you—"

"let them, i would rather sit here," seungcheol said, leaning on the sofa as he grinned at you.

"why though—"

"it's my party, i will sit wherever I want, plus it's also hard to meet you at school these days after our classes were shuffled," the fifth grader smiled at you as he pushed his newly gifted videogame towards you, "look at this though! isn't it very cool?"

you stared at the game in your hands, a grin spreading on your face as you replied, "yeah! it looks very cool!"

"play it for me," he smiled at you as you flinched.

seungcheol was notorious for not sharing his toys; hell his mother was complaining about it just a few minutes ago, did his demeanor change this soon?

"you haven't even played with it yet," you smiled as you passed his videogame back to him.

"so what? play it for me, so that I can observe you and win it easily when i play it myself—" his eyes twinkled, "i bet my high score will be better than yours."

that did it for you as you pulled the game from his grasp and tried to play it with as much concentration you could muster in that bustling birthday party of his. you both were living in your own world as his friends played among themselves, suddenly realising the missing birthday boy.

"seungcheol!" they called out to him as you both looked up.

"come here!"

"in a minute!"

seungcheol gazed back at you as you lightly nudged him to go towards his friends,

"will you be alright?" he asked, his eyes droopy as he stared at you.

"ofcourse!"

"you wouldn't feel out of place right?" he asked, his hand on your shoulder, "you're the only girl here among so many boys, plus they all are my friends— i don't want you to feel lonely," he said.

"i won't! i could make friends easily you know," you retorted as you sensed the videogame in your hands, "plus I also have this game if i feel bored, they are your friends! play with them! it's your party!"

he looked up at you and nodded wordlessly as he ran towards his friend, your heart dampened slightly but it didn't matter right? it was his party, he should enjoy it as much as he can.

seungcheol didn't let you feel alone for long though, in another five minutes he was right next to you, pulling you towards his group of friends.

"play with us!" he announced as he threw you on his back when you showed resistance. how the hell was he so strong?

"won't they feel weird?"

"they won't!" seungcheol grinned at you, "it's my party! they have to do as I say!"

you laughed as you played around the ten year olds, running around the garden as they tried to catch you with seungcheol helping you out here and there, you had never seen the boy smile so widely before and that day you had made sure, you will try to make him smile everyday— or whenever you both meet.

... that aged well, didn't it?

"y/n," seungcheol huffed as he stood next to you, tired out of his wits as his friends were leaving one by one; you were gonna leave later though.

"yes?"

"next time I will invite more girls of my class so that you don't feel alone," he said as you punched his arm, "you don't need to! your friends are great."

"I'm better though," he grinned at you as you rolled your eyes at him.

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"you look pretty today," he flashed a blinding smile towards you as you could feel your face heat up yet you smiled effortlessly, "thankyou cheol."

"come to my party again," he smiled, waving you as you walked towards your ride, a small grin on your face as you looked back at him, "don't forget to invite me!"

"i would never." liar.

you left his house feeling elevated, you had made so many new friends and cheol's game was awesome, you couldn't wait to meet up with him and play the game again!

"did you have fun, sweetheart?" your mom asked as she hugged you, her heart filling with warmth as she saw the unmistakable smile on your face.

"i did mom! i had so much fun."

"do you feel good?"

"i feel amazing, mom!"

your teeth clattered as your fingers trembled at the backstage, you had taken part in a poetry recitation and composition competition, and hell you were nervous.

you repeatedly looked at your poem and tried to remember it as much as you can until you heard his voice startling you to reality.

"y/n?" he called out to you as he leaned towards you, his eyes fixated on your poem as you crumpled the paper in your hands,

"hey! you're a competitor," you grinned, pushing seungcheol away from you as he quirked up a brow, a cocky smile on his face as he said, "what? you think you will lose coz of me? the great y/n l/n who has never stepped out of the top three would lose because of me?"

you rolled your eyes as you simply stood next to seungcheol, you eyed at his poem,

"you write really well," you smiled, reading his admittedly good poem.

"thanks," he smiled at you as a boy from beside you both groaned, "so you let her look at your poem and not me? it's not like I'm going to copy your whole work in like two minutes! that too backstage."

seungcheol bantered with the guy as you laughed at them heartily but your hands were still shaking, were you really this nervous? you never had stage fright before!

or was it because it was the first time you were presenting a self-written poem in front of the whole school— you didn't know, but you were very nervous.

"y/n, hey," you heard your friend call out to you as he passed a small smile, "your poem is good too."

"you read it?"

"just a stanza," he smiled, his gaze far away on the stage as he looked back at you, "you will win."

you nudged his shoulder as you chuckled, "so the great seungcheol is admitting his defeat?"

he passed you a childlike grin, his gummy smile sending shivers up your spine as he lightly squeezed your hand, "it's alright if the one I'm losing to is you."

his words were like a chant to you, regularly spiralling in your head as you took the dais, "you will win." his voice repeated in your head as you took a deep breath in and your mouth opened.

everything was a blur, from your introduction to your recitation, yet the applause of the crowd was surreal, the way the teachers scrambled up to you to ask if you had actually written the poem by yourself was too flattering. but amidst all this, you wanted to know how did he think about it?

did he think you did well?

you missed his half of his recitation because of the crowd but, he was as good as always, the moment he finished you ran up to him a wide grin on your face as you beamed, "you did amazing!"

"really? you think so?"

"yeah! your voice control was amazing! and your vocabulary and flow was very apt too," you rambled on, telling him about everything you found amazing in his poem as he smiled at you, his eyes twinkling.

"i thought you were better."

seungcheol accepting that someone was better than him?

"i-i was?"

"yeah, i loved your poem, a lot."

a blush crept up to your cheeks as you looked away from him while cheol spoke up about how you will win. and he was right, because you did win. and he was the happiest about it.

"told you so," he grinned at you as you nudged his arm.

you smiled as you remembered, this was how the twelve year old y/n got over her rare stage fright.

"would you participate in the rj activity though?" he asked, his hands buried in his blazer as he walked next to you. the worst thing about private schools would be their unflattering uniforms for sure.

"what activity?"

"well, we have to pose as radio jockeys and perform a skit based on it."

"is it group wise?" you asked, your brows knitting up as seungcheol grinned at you.

"nope, house wise."

you laughed as you looked at him, "should we defeat them and leave them in dust?"

"aye aye captain."

both your and seungcheol's house was the same so you were a literal nightmare for others whenever you both teamed up, but your friends weren't any less, were they?

you remember seungcheol coming over to your home as you both happily worked on the script, skipping the classes as an excuse for preparing for activities and when the day came, you were sure that you'd win.

"y/n? should we get changed?" one of your teammates asked you as you nodded at her, as you said, the worse part about private schools was their uniform so it was a blessing whenever you could wear casual clothes at school.

you got ready as soon as possible, feeling happiest in your favorite pair of jeans and shirt as you stepped out of the changing room, only to find seungcheol and others waiting for you in your classes.

"just how long do you all take to get read— holy shit, y/n." the thirteen year old boy's lips sealed up as he gazed at you, he couldn't remember to snatch his gaze away from you until you smiled.

"cheol?" you asked, a teasing smile on your face as the boy looked away from you.

it wasn't meant for you to hear but you did,

"you really are very pretty."

and that's when you realised, you probably... probably didn't think of seungcheol as a friend anymore.

"mina," you looked at your best friend after the activity was finished a small blush on your face as you said, "I think... I like seungcheol."

oh? about the activity? you both won, easily.

you didn't want them to know, you didn't want him to know, you weren't ready for him to know!

"why did you tell them?" you asked your bestfriend as she just shrugged, "come on now, it's just them, they aren't gonna tell anyone! they promised to me."

"they did?"

"yeah! so don't worry now!"

apparently, promises meant nothing to eighth graders, why would they? soon the news about the great l/n's little crush on choi seungcheol spread around like a wildfire throughout the school. not even your class, throughout the school.

their incessant teasing was eating you up and even your best friend wasn't shutting up.

you had never felt so vulnerable in your whole life and you weren't able to deny it really— you seriously did like seungcheol... a lot.

but now, when you both were finally in the same class, you didn't have the courage to speak up to him, to talk to him.

you were cowardly enough to not even text him either.

"i don't think he likes you though," one of his friends said as he stood in front of you.

you smiled at him painfully, "yeah, i know... i don't think he likes me like that either."

but you didn't miss his lingering stares, his annoyed eyes whenever any guy would make you laugh, his bashful smiles whenever you both were teamed up for the projects.

but the howling of the whole class ruined it all, instead of relishing in the warmth of first love, you were buried in embarrassment of having your feelings known to the entire world, and it didn't seem like mina was going to stop talking about it.

yet you always sat with her, because after all, she was your best friend and everyone makes mistakes, so... it's fine right?

you still remember when the teachers had set you both and a few of your classmates up for a national film-making (documentary) competition, you huffed under the sunlight as seungcheol looked back at you, stretching his hand towards you, "come!" he said out as you held his hand, he pulled you over to help you sit on a bench next to him as he passed you a cold water bottle.

"don't walk so much if you're this tired."

"I'm fine," you huffed, gulping down the entire water bottle in one go.

"still can't accept it whenever you're wrong, can you?" he grinned at you as you scoffed, "i can! you're just wrong about me!"

"oh yeah?" he smiled at you as his brooch fell down while he groaned.

"this piece of shit just can't stay in one place, can it?" you looked at the fallen school brooch as you laughed at your old friend.

"you just don't know how to wear it."

"if you're so good then why don't you stick it for me?" he was challenging you, both of your intentions were pure, but would your classmates leave you alone?

you smiled as you picked up the brooch from the ground, pulling his tie towards you you attempted to slide the pin on the tie effortlessly.

click!

you heard the camera snap as you turned around, your cheeks hot as you realised your and his position as you better half of the classmates grinned at you.

at least they didn't spread the picture around.

things were better between you and seungcheol now, you both didn't care about the teasing and the friendly competition between you both had ignited again.

but you wondered, both of you knew about your feelings, you don't have to state them again, do you? so if he liked you... he would say something, right?

but the way he kept quiet around you— you sighed, you shouldn't think about it much, he just doesn't like you, that's it.

but one day, when you sat in front of those two girls, you couldn't take it anymore— they were literal bullies in your eyes, and so you snapped,

"i don't even like him!"

he heard it and you could see his big eyes widen further as he looked away from you, you didn't want him to hear it— you wanted to say that it was a lie, because it was! but the teasing had stopped... so you didn't even try to deny it.

you would text him, you assured yourself, but you never did. and soon valentine's day had made its arrival.

people were on their toes researching about your love life, it was as if your life was the soap opera which they had come to watch every single day.

you groaned as you walked away from them, too annoyed by their antics but you stopped in your tracks when you looked at mina and seungcheol talking to each other.

... it isn't good to spy right? you sighed as you walked away from them, if it was something related to you, mina would tell you, right?

"does she like me?" seungcheol asked mina, as he shuffled his feet, a pink hue dusted his cheeks as he looked at mina.

he didn't notice the way mina seethed with slight jealousy as she looked away from seungcheol.

"y/n? oh? didn't you hear? she just had a crush on you, she got over you like weeks ago."

seungcheol's heart stopped beating for a moment as he pursed his lips, his breath slightly shaky as he simply said, "oh... i really was... too late."

he just smiled at the girl and turned away, too hurt to want to look at his crush's bestfriend. he saw you happily chatting with one of your friends and he smiled, he hoped you were always as cheery as he was seeing you now.

"were you talking to seungcheol, mina?" you asked, a slight stutter to your words as your friend lazily looked up at you, "oh him? yeah I was."

"did he say something?"

mina look at you with pity as you could feel your world shatter at her next words, "I'm sorry y/n, he said that he likes me."

"oh..." oh. you should've just said what you wanted. maybe you were too late— maybe, you actually never had a chance.

you put up a smile in front of mina while your heartbeat fastened, "it's alright, you can't help people you like, huh."

"I guess so... I'm very sorry though."

"you don't need to be." you simply said as you turned towards your bus, ready to go back to home.

your mom knew that something was wrong when she saw your face.

"are you alright, sweetie?"

"i just... don't feel good, mom." you smiled at her before locking yourself in your room.

maybe if you both weren't a bunch of cowards, things would have been different then.

you couldn't talk to cheol anymore— not after you had heard that he liked your bestfriend out of everyone, not after you both had already severed your relationship because of teenage awkwardness.

the visits to his house stopped, you never texted him again, neither did he.

he knew about your feelings so why did he— why did he have to like her out of everyone?

you were a high-schooler now, yet the story of yours and seungcheol's was still the talk of the town, you were even more popular than before and you didn't enjoy it, you didn't enjoy it at all.

moving on from cheol was hard, but you would move on, it doesn't matter anymore.

yet you could feel your emotions weigh your down, eat at your insides, deplete your confidence.

but when you felt him glare at you, you couldn't help it.

"hey," you nudged your other friend, "was he glaring at me?" you asked as your friend looked at him.

"shit— it looks like he wants to kill you."

you scoffed out of disbelief, what did you even do? did mina reject him because you liked him? even if she did, it wasn't your fault? you wouldn't even care. liar.

"wait, someone asked me if you were in a long-distance relationship with someone a while ago."

"what?" you whipped your head towards your friend as she nodded at you, "something about jihoon?"

"but jihoon is just my friend! what were they saying?"

"something like... you've been dating him for about a year now?"

you gasped as you got up from your seat, you knew it was mina who had talked about it. you had talked about jihoon only to her.

you marched towards mina as you asked her, "are you the one spreading rumours about jihoon and i?"

"what rumours?"

"he's not my boyfriend, mina! he's just a friend!"

"you don't like him?"

"of course not! i just liked talking to him," you confronted her as she looked at you apologetically.

"I am sorry— many guys were asking if you're single so i told them about jihoon, i didn't know that you didn't have a crush on him, i will clear it all up! don't worry!"

you pursed your lips as you looked at your best-friend, "you will right?"

"yeah, don't worry!" she never did.

the moment when cheol marched up to you, you had braced yourself to explain everything to him, but why should you? were you even friends now?

"i don't even like you,"

his words were like a dagger to your heart as he walked past you, not even stopping to hear your voice.

you chest seethed with anger as you scoffed at his shadow, you turned around and moved away from him, you wouldn't let this man make you cry anymore, you wouldn't waste your time over choi seungcheol.

you're going to move on from him, no matter what it takes.

you had promised yourself that you wouldn't cry. yet when you saw his picture with his girlfriend— you couldn't help it. just a day before your birthday too, huh.

you sighed as you looked at the night sky, you hated yourself for feeling this way for a mere human, just what was so special about him that you couldn't look at others?

was it because he was your first friend? was it because he was the kindest to you— he's kind to everyone, y/n; you tried to tell yourself, but that nagging feeling in your head— that voice which didn't shut up repeatedly said— he was different to you.

you didn't know about it— you didn't know it at all.

you weren't someone special, seungcheol knew that too. and maybe that's why you had fallen for him so hard. so hard that you were wasting your tears on him years after everything had happened.

he didn't care— you try to tell yourself. he never did. he never liked you as more than a friend, it was your own foolishness which tore you both apart.

friends weren't supposed to fall for each other, but you did. and that was your biggest mistake.

you threw your phone across the bed as you prepared to sleep, you didn't care about any 12AM wishes, because you knew he won't wish you anymore— he doesn't remember your birthday anymore. you just knew, he didn't care anymore. he never loved you, so it's better for you to haul yourself and to not look back.

because at the end, he never saw you as more than a friend.

1 2 : 0 6 a. m.

seungcheol: happy birthday, y/n.

you chuckled at those bittersweet recollections with cheol, it was all amazing in a way, even after all these years, hearing the name choi seungcheol makes you smile, you don't think that you could ever hate him, not when he made you feel such a beautiful thing.

mingyu : half of your anxiety exists because of seungcheol, you both need exposure.

you sighed as you looked at your best-friend's text, remembering that you had pestered him earlier about your lack of boyfriend and he started listing out the reason, you knew he was right, but you didn't want to confront cheol anymore, it had already been three years.

you : does it even matter?

mingyu : it does when it affects you like this, you don't even like him y/n! yet you won't even try dating because of your issues— I'm not saying they are bad but, it's the only way you'd get better. atleast, give those boys a chance.

you sighed as you looked at the clock, it was 2AM, and then you looked at mingyu's text. you wondered about what your fourteen year self would want to do.

you sucked in a breath as you wondered, would it... would it really be fine to date someone? to love someone with all your heart that it takes years to try not love them anymore?

yet you still know, a small part of your heart, will always adore seungcheol.

you searched seungcheol's name in your contact, clicking on his contact you but your lips. after all these years, you're gonna tell him— you're gonna tell him about how you felt. you can't run away from your emotions. you shouldn't. not when they were tying you down.

you : hey... can we talk?

cheol : hi y/n, sure.

you : at school? tomorrow?

cheol : okay, as you wish.

your heart-beat fastened as you looked at his texts again and again, shit. what the fuck did you do? what are you doing after all these years? have you deluded yourself to think that you've moved on from him? have you actually moved on from him? what are you even going to talk to him about?

mingyu : y/n? are you alright? are you okay? can I call you?

you : i texted him.

mingyu : seungcheol?

you : yes

mingyu : AT 2 FUCKING AM?

you : yes.

mingyu : are you an idiot?

you : a big one.

you switched off your phone as you pushed your face in your pillow, it was all a dream right? since when did you gain this much of confidence, it will all be a dream when you wake up. the moment you wake up, it'd all vanish!

it didn't, you winced when you looked at three missed calls from mingyu.

yeah, that's an issue for the future me,

you sighed as you stared at your ceiling for a few minutes; you know you have moved on, so why is your heart beating so fast? you know you don't like him anymore, so why are your breaths so short?

you got up on your bed as you stared at your school backpack on the edge of your bed, you took a deep breath in. may it be four years or four months, you're ready now. you need the exposure, you need the truth. so you will tense up and talk to him.

"hannah, oh god, i can't do this—" you panicked in front of your friend as your friend tried to help you calm down amidst chemistry class.

"i have to talk to him in like fifteen minutes? i can't! I'm unable to speak clearly now, i seriously can't talk to him— I'm scared."

"y/n," your friend stared at you as you gasped for breath. "you need to talk to him. all is done, you will talk to him."

you silently nodded at her as mingyu looked at you from the side, passing a cookie towards you, "eat."

you felt bile rise up in your throat, your mouth was dry as you pushed the cookie away, "i can't eat. I'm too nervous."

you looked at the worried glances of your friends as you stood up and excused yourself to the washroom, you can do it. and you will do it. you just have to talk about your feelings, right? what could be so hard in that?

so why did you run away when you saw him approaching you?

"y/n! shit— are you okay?" mingyu asked you as nodded shakily.

"i can't talk to him."

"he's a good person, he won't judge you."

"i know!" you retorted, "but-but it's just so fucking hard, gyu. I haven't ever been transparent about my feelings to anyone and it's-its."

"but have you ever felt this strongly for anyone before?"

you shook your head, "no. and that's what scares me."

mingyu sighed as he patted your head, "you don't need to do this today."

"but I should."

"then he's out there waiting for you."

and he was, he really was.

"hey," he called out to you, a small smile on his face, "you wanted to talk to me."

you gulped, your hands shaking nervously as you tried to replicate his smile, "I did— can you give me a moment though?"

why were you still so nervous? why was it all so hard still?

"cheol- i... I wanted to talk about eighth grade and everything—"

"it was all years ago, y/n, it's alright," cheol chuckled but when he looked at your eyes, he knew it was important for you.

"can you still talk to me?"

"yes... but I don't remember half of it!" he began saying but you moved towards him, your eyes practically begging him to talk to you as he sighed, you could see the pink rush up to his cheeks as he looked away from you.

"did you really forget?"

"no, i didn't. i could never."

you smiled at him, "you see cheol— i... I liked you.. a lot and—" you speech wavered as you tried to fetch words to confess to him but, it was still so hard, it was so hard to speak your own heart.

"i know," he said, his eyes kinder as his lips twitched, yearning to break out into a smile. "I know."

that's why you loved him, you didn't have to say everything for him to understand.

"i just- i really wanted to tell you that personally," you smiled up at him gratefully as cheol nodded at you, understanding your motive about your own confession years after, years after you had finally moved on from him.

"did you—" you don't need to ask that.

"did i?"

you don't need his validation so why are you still so stuck on asking him? fuck it, you have already done the heavy part, right?

"as you know that I liked you— a lot," your heart still thumped with every word spilling with your lips but you couldn't help but notice the ease in your limbs, was confessing this liberating?

"did you ever like someone—"

"no," he said with finality, his eyes a little shocked at your question, "i liked... you a lot too," he said with a slight hesitation as he rubbed his nape out of embarrassment. "i liked you for a full year but,"

oh?

"I had assumed that you weren't ready for a relationship— and fuck, i was a coward, so i... i—"

"it's okay," you smiled up at him, you weren't going to let him regret it when you didn't, you were simply happy to hear his side as you shook your head, "it's alright, it was all in the past."

you grinned up at him as he smiled back at you.

nothing else was left to say, you knew you wouldn't ever talk to him after this, you knew that your paths won't cross again, so you relished this moment as much as you could, before you finally said your goodbye. goodbye to your first friend of this foreign school, goodbye to your first love.

you were ecstatic as you stepped in your class, a huge grin on your face as you ran towards hannah and mingyu, your voice full of vigour, "I told him!" you grinned as you jumped at your place, your friends cheering you on as hannah and mingyu passed a lunchbox towards you, while you grinned and told them all the details, happy to realise that, you have finally moved on from your first love.

sometimes fate has something else planned for you, sometimes the fate protects you from fleeting feelings and that's how you and seungcheol were.

sometimes you still wonder about what would've happened if any one of you was just a bit more courageous, but it's all the past right?

be it the right person at the wrong time or unrequited first love.

you didn't end up with seungcheol; but he taught you more than you could've ever learned by yourself.

some mistakes are made throughout your life, but you don't need to regret them.

I don't think you would regret them.

x x x : hey y/n! are you free this weekend?

you smiled at the text as you looked at the calendar, the days were far more easier now.

x x x : would you like to go out with me?

you : sure <3

you chose to speak your heart, you chose your confidence again and it was all thanks to choi seungcheol.

a/n : funfact : i hate miscommunication tropes, but this story was heavily based on my disastrous love life and it's not even half of it <33

hope you liked reading it and i sincerely hope i did a good job writing this; I think that this fic is boring, but I just wanted to type out my story for my relief.

hope you all liked it!

thanks for reading <3

XOXO

#kflixnet #caratlibrary #caratsland #seventeen fic #seventeen #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol angst #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #scoups #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen oneshot #kpop angst #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop bg #nish recs #nishloves #kim mingyu #mingyu #kim mingyu fluff

[ronearoundblindly]

Your Dog, His Tricks

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader tale set a little over a year after losing their virginity together and based on this ask.

Summary: Injured on a mission and MIA for days, you return to a very high-strung boyfriend who can't express what he's feeling until it boils to the surface.

Warnings: arguments and smut. MINORS DNI. WC 5.4k

You don’t know when it started, this sort of competition with your boyfriend, but at some point you and Steve became a packaged deal. Unfortunately, that package was labeled: Steve Rogers and his girl. You feel nameless sometimes, and you know you are better than that; maybe you aren’t super like he is, but you are (and were since before dating) a whole-ass Avenger in your own right. You are a stellar agent. You can bring home the top prize. You can finish this shit-show of a mission all on your own.

No help.

None.

You noticed a problem after months and months of fighting with Steve—no, that sounds wrong—beside Steve. 

Okay, maybe it’s not wrong-wrong to say fighting with him because you two do have the occasional argument. Just one argument, really. One argument over and over again about you fighting beside him, why it’s fine, why he should let it go. You are as safe fighting beside him now as you were before the two of you became this set, this lop-sided partnership. He still wants to protect you from shit you are trained to protect yourself from, shit you survived just fine without him, shit like the last three days.

He’s stubborn, and so are you.

You’ve had trouble getting him to back off. The Team is a team, and Steve does great, delegating all sorts of jobs when you are one among many. As soon as it’s you and him alone? He’s…overly helpful, over-protective, and generally over-the-top fussy. He is adoring and caring and competent. Apparently, those things make him feel capable of doing everything for you. It’s sweet until it’s not. Every time you start a project—laundry, cooking, organizing shelves, or leading an actual mission—Steve waltzes in and has to finish it for you.

Because he loves you. Because he’s trying to help. Because he can.

It makes you feel as if you can’t, or, at least, as if he thinks you can’t.

“Well, buddy, you can’t have this one,” you mutter outside of HQ’s gate, gripping your side and flicking open the phone you stole a few states back.

You’ve been gone for just shy of seventy-three hours.

At first, you truly had no way to contact the Team. You were on your own a thousand miles from home, fried comms and a spent weapon. You missed the rendezvous at the safehouse because it took twenty or so hours to find a vet office with the supplies to patch yourself up, and by the time you could have reached out, that ear worm wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’ll swoop in.

He’ll save you.

You’re his girl, so you need him. You can’t handle this without him. No one will believe you did once he gets anywhere near you.

Call it adrenaline. Call it blood loss. Call it shock. You can’t give up this glory, so you told yourself you needed radio silence to keep the recovered intel secure until back on Avengers campus. You told yourself the risk of interception was too high to chance a phone call.

Now, fifty feet from the infirmary, you need to get past one more obstacle.

You know Steve would jump from a third-story window to get to you, know he would scoop you right up into his arms and carry you over the threshold, know that would mean Steve wins.

No. Not this time. This is yours. You deserve the credit. You are crossing that finish line solo.

You jab the last of the epi-pens into your good leg, letting yet more adrenaline heave through what little of your blood volume is left and call the HQ secure line from the burner.

“Friday,” you start, standing at the bus stop, a blindspot from the Avengers’ surveillance cameras because the city already monitors it, “authorization Gamma-Lima-Four-Whisky. Do not declare connection. I repeat, do not declare this connection.”

The AI welcomes you back onto the grid politely.

“Thank you.” A bubble of pain bursts in your throat. “Give them a different location for this call, ok? Tell them it’s from the nearest functional payphone.”

Friday does as you say because why wouldn’t she? It’s not as if Steve is going to pause to question where the ping is—

—and he’s already out, on the bike, pushing that engine to its acceleration limit and narrowly escaping a shoulder check from the slowly opening gates.

You sneak right past, knowing he won’t look in his rearview, not with his eye on a prize ten blocks away, and you collapse just inside the garage ramp.

You wake prone in the Regeneration Cradle after surgery to a kind, smiling nurse monitoring your progress.

It’s difficult to focus. After a few blinks, you can see her features clearly, then beyond her are just eyes.

His eyes.

Piercing blue doesn’t begin to describe the intensity of Steve’s gaze, and his silence is deafening.

Each quarter-minute he inventories the room, and he exhales. That is the sum total of what he can manage to do right now. He’s attempting to keep it together until you two are alone obviously. Steve fails at very few things in life; this is one of them. You can see the outline of his teeth through his tight cheek.

“Doc wanted me to tell you you did a great job,” the nurse states softly. “If you hadn’t packed those wounds so tight, you’d have died for sure.”

Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you flash a wry smile. No one gets the Cradle without…extensive injuries. You’ve never had the ‘pleasure,’ not even for your through-and-through last year.

Steve huffs in frustration, keeping his huge body out of the nurse’s way even when you can feel him try to astral project himself forward to hand you ice chips. Instead, you swallow cotton.

“Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes from above, “your motorcycle has been cited for running five red lights with a further two dozen traffic violations. Shall I claim Official Avengers’ business?”

You croak ‘no.’ He says ‘yes.’

There’s a pause. “I will ask again later.”

Who says AIs can’t throw some serious shade?

Silence descends again as the spindling print needle moves on to a different wound. You’re lucid but wobbly trying to think, a combination of the waning anesthesia and pain meds.

If frowns could kill, your boyfriend’s would devastate the entire med bay.

This is what you hoped beyond hope to avoid, but it’s also why your endgame involved going solo.

“You’re making my point for me,” you sigh, your chest hurting more after surgery than it has in the past twenty-four hours. Clearly, your nerves are back online.

“And what point was that?“ he asks sarcastically, waiting in your own stubborn silence. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Really?” You’re playfully shocked.

“No, not really! God.” He rushes closer. “What the hell were you thinking? If you had time to send me on a wild goose chase, you could damn well have called to tell me you were alive!”

The cradle’s lights shut off, job complete.

“Language, Steve.” 

He looks incredulous, engrossingly livid, anxious outrage contained by his one frayed thread of control left. 

“We found the intel,” he grits through a clenched jaw. “After power-washing your blood off it, everything was on the drive.”

You can’t sit up on your elbows yet, so you bite back, “good. It all worked out fine then.”

Wafting off him in thick clouds, Steve’s anger is near-flammable in the small room.

The nurse offers to step out for a second.

You say ‘yes.’ Steve barks ‘no.’

This isn’t the nurse’s first rodeo. “Alright, surgery went well. All debris and fragments removed. Your tissue is all intact now, too, but remember, this treatment doesn’t train new muscle fiber or nerve-endings.” She ignores Steve and pushes past to the other end of the table. “Rest up. Tomorrow, you can report to PT. They’ll work with you until you’re field-approved again.”

“She is not—“

“Both of you are ordered to rest,” the nurse snaps, nodding in Steve’s direction “—and make yourself useful by changing her drip when it runs out. If you can’t manage that, Captain, I will find a separate apartment or keep her here overnight.”

“No,” Steve breathes, visibly deflating. Like a scolded puppy, your boyfriend tucks his chin down, rings of grey settling beneath his dark sea eyes. It’s plain as day he hasn’t slept either.

The nurse calls for a wheelchair, and Steve dutifully helps you scoot off the table when it arrives. While he positions the IV to move in tandem, you attempt to push yourself by the huge rubber wheels and fail. Doc was not kidding about muscle weakness.

Steve says nothing.

You’re rolled back to your shared room by the grumpiest Captain America. 

He helps you dress in baggy, comfy clothes and silently reattaches the line of your drip. Not one touch is in a sexual, sensual, or even intimate way even though you are naked at some point.

You can’t remember what you expected; you’ve been so focused on completing the mission for so long. Did you want a desperate homecoming? Did you want him to grovel or worship at your feet? You think, at some point, you knew he’d push back, but you thought…maybe…he’d want you more.

Steve seems to turn his interest on and off so easily, which is great professionally but hard to read personally…or maybe you’re just struggling under the distracting hum of medication. It’s a white noise you can’t ignore, lulling you unconscious, so you can’t analyze the situation anymore. Maybe, you think, you try…but the thoughts don’t come.

He situates you on his side of the bed—to accommodate the cord and stand—and tucks himself quietly into the smallest corner of mattress that his bulk can fit on.

He falls asleep holding your hand. It’s the only place you two are connected. After nearly eighty-five hours apart, that’s still worth it. Maybe.

At some point, his hand goes limp and falls away.

Finally clear of mind, you keep watching Steve the next day. He doesn’t necessarily seem angry, and he doesn’t necessarily seem relieved either. He’s so robotic in his interactions. He won’t talk to you just at you. 

You understand why he was so standoffish last night, but you thought Steve would surely want you after that. You thought he’d start touching you again. 

You two waited so long for your first time, but after that, sex was relatively easy. Steve is an affectionate man when he’s allowed, when he’s in love, and you know he loves you.

Like the nurse said: all your tissue is fully healed. The only restrictions you have are in regards to field work, and the phantom jolts of pain—when you reach into a cabinet or take down a clothes hanger—aren’t real. 

Steve’s always an arm’s length away, just in case, meaning he is there to help you.

Always an arm’s length away.

No closer. No farther.

That afternoon you attempt to start talking about your mission, but that’s when he moves.

Steve practically sprints out the door with a half-baked excuse, so you go to physical therapy alone. You can go alone. That’s not the problem.

If you thought talking to Steve was difficult, you weren’t ready for how hard touching Steve would be.

You try to initiate even a cuddle that second night, and he jumps up claiming to have forgotten something somewhere else that he promised someone. Your boyfriend can’t lie worth beans. You don’t know why he tries.

You’re asleep before he returns.

The next night is exactly the opposite. You spend longer at the gym, slowly and painstakingly repeating every single exercise you know in order to streamline these new muscles. It’s an unholy pain in the ass, but you do it because you can—and will—get back in the field.

Even though the workout was mild, you’re awash with that runner’s high when you return to find Steve passed out already. He looks so peaceful, brow relaxed and lips gently parted. He also looks, well, good enough to eat, but you’ll start slow.

There was one time early on, before you two went all the way, that you woke him up by grinding on him in your sleep. You think now, perhaps, you can recreate that, catch him off-guard and dissipate some of this tension between you. This would be a good release. You don’t normally go this long. Obviously, Steve wouldn’t have masturbated while you were MIA and possibly dead, and every other second since has been accounted for.

He practically can’t have sex anywhere else except naked in a bed. He’s even told you, point blank, that he feels no need to touch himself since he has you. You are what he wants. That’s what he said.

Except he doesn’t wake up to your advances. He just rolls over like you’re disturbing him and softly snores.

For the first time, you wonder if you’ve really broken the two of you. How long will he be mad at you for doing your job? 

Steve rolls back over in his sleep, holding you close like nothing’s happened. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but it’s enough and so, so wonderful to imagine all is well.

About a week into your ‘recovery’ (which is sorta bullshit since you can do everything the same by now just with an occasional, faint twinge, no more than the strain of every workout, ever), Steve takes Sam Wilson up on his offer of 1-on-1 basketball for a while. The Team—minus you—has a raid planned in the morning, and there’s always nervous energy to burn off in anticipation.

Your boyfriend has been a nightmare grump, but no one wants to take on the hassle of convincing Steve that he’s being too Steve to Steve properly. He still won’t talk to you about anything other than the weather, food, or daily schedules.

You’re even considering taking a break from field work because this all has become too much. If Steve is gonna shut down after every dangerous mission—which is, in fact, all of them—then maybe it’s not worth the risk. You’re good, you’re great, but you aren’t super.

“Taste of his own medicine, I say,” Bucky mutters, sitting beside you on the bleachers between courts.

“Huh?” You were distracted, watching Steve and Sam squeak across the floor.

Steve sinks a perfect layup and doesn’t gloat. Do-gooder.

“He used to get so mad when I’d find him in an alley all beaten up,” Buck continues. “Thought I was being too protective. I trusted him, but he was puny and he did get sick all the time. He could take a punch, sure, but every mark took weeks to heal. Half the time, they were still yellow when some idiot landed fresh ones.”

Steve claps beneath the net, encouraging Sam, focused on not outshining anyone.

He’s been the same with everyone else but you, and the whole Team can see it. You shouldn’t be surprised someone is finally talking about it; you simply wonder how Buck drew the short straw.

“Didn’t wanna be babied,” Bucky snorts, fondly glowering at his century-long bestie, “while low and behold, he pulls that stunt with everybody, every day.” 

“Yup,” you pop, looking at the matte metal beneath your feet, knowing there’s a line between the ‘caring’ version and the ‘coddling’ version. Steve nose-dived right over that line this time.

“What he appreciated, though, was consistency.” Bucky swivels his hair around into a bun and ties it. “Punk is dedicated, and even if it was just him--the hund’ed pound soaking-wet guy whose only real talent at that point was getting back on his feet--he knew he’d fight anyway.

“Bit hypocritical to be mad at his girl for doing the same, don’t ya think?” Bucky muses, clucking his tongue.

The brunette watches you bristle slightly at the moniker. His girl. Not only is it what got you into this mess, it feels untrue based on that big, broad, cold shoulder you’ve received from the man racing back and forth in front of you.

Smiling, Bucky nudges you with his elbow. “I’m excited for you to get back on your feet,” he adds.

You’re stuck thinking about that long after Bucky jumps into the game.

It’s no surprise then that when the doctor gives you the all-clear the very next morning, you’re over the moon and ready to strike. You don’t hesitate for a second when the alarm sounds less than an hour later.

The Team needs reinforcements. Your Team needs you.

You hustle into the back of a quinjet with a dozen agents. While the others file out to where the main conflict is raging, you sneak around the perimeter to suss out the mission goal, a treasure trove of enemy tech hidden somewhere in what was thought to be an abandoned village.

Not so abandoned if it’s lighting up like the pyrotechnics show on an action film set...

The explosions rattle the ground, yet you know the Team have breached the main chamber. Those enemy forces still fighting are distracting from a retreat. The other agents can catch them just fine. Your mission is intel recovery.

To keep your approach stealthy, you don’t announce your movements over comms, and Nat doesn’t scan back down the dark hallway you wedge into as she carries out an asset. If you weren’t so far back, you never would have seen him.

An enemy agent slinks out from behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry right in front of you. His silhouette is short and thin; he’s built for stealth, too.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears as you follow, and that bastard gets close—so close—to Steve’s turned back that the pistol’s muzzle nearly touches.

Not this time. Not a chance. None.

You land a roundhouse kick to the exposed neck above his kevlar, and that sucker goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Steve turns around at the ready, stunned silent in the middle of his instructions to Bucky who is not visible from the other side heaped boxes. The papers still smoke where evidence was burned.

You salute at big, blue eyes. 

“On your six, Cap.” 

Steve looks at you, looks down at the man, and looks back up at you…pissed. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

What the fuck indeed…

All you did was help your team. All you did was stop Captain America from getting his head blown off. In no small fashion, all you did was save your boyfriend’s life.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

His grip on your arm is painful as he leads you all the way back to the jet himself, shoving you into the jump seat between other returned agents and shouting for you to 'stay right there.'

Bucky announces over comms that the rest is clean up. All but the specialized document interpretation and perimeter teams are moving out. 

Steve huffs, contemplates staying on a battlefield instead of going back with you, but decides to sit across the ship in silence again, fuming, making fists over and over in his fingerless leather gloves, bitterly sniffing as loud as possible the entire flight home. He refuses to answer a single person until the jet touches down at HQ. 

“Everyone off,” he bellows, “everyone except you.” 

You can’t stop it. Your hands fly up in exaggerated annoyance automatically.

“What do you want, Steve? I got the go-ahead this morning. I’m allowed to be here.”

“Stop doing that.” He rounds on you.

“Doing what? My job?!”

Chest puffed out, feathers ruffled, cheeks hot and red, Steve peels off his cowl. “Being insubordinate.”

“You’re not my superior officer,” you hiss, “we are equals, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot.”

You poke a finger to his chest for each achievement listed.

“Fine," Steve shouts, crossing his arms, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

Them be fightin’ words. “A what?”

“You heard me,” he all but whispers.

It’s laughable, truly laughable how bad Steve is at hiding some of those wheels from turning in his head. This isn’t about today. This is the thing he buried the past week.

You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks, hot breath mingling with yours.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” You push weakly at his chest, taunting, like it's a game. “Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

His face cracks, an avalanche unmoored from a stable mountain.

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, his own derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about the job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

A dark, hazy sheen layers over his sharp gaze. “Don’t make me keep you home.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well—” you purse your lips in defiance “—isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you dismiss. “We both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head, He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.” His last word thickens the air on the jet. 

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables?

Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs. He retracts his touch the instant you let out a longing sigh, unable to restrain how needy you are. His fingers wander to perfectly clean and unmarked flesh…on your thigh, along one side, and a few inches below that. He’s tracing the bullet wounds he watched heal so quickly.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out?” he says absently, lost in thought, his thumb shifting to notch into the dip of your hip. “Maybe I should leave you wondering if we’ll ever—”

“Yes,” you whimper, no real idea what you’re saying. That’s not what answer you meant.

“How would you like three whole days of this feeling, huh? You think you’d fare any better than I did? Think you’d make it even five minutes?”

“Uh-uh.” Again, with no clue what you’re truly responding to, you buck your hips forward onto his long fingers.

The cords around your wrists get tighter while you struggle to set a pace. Behind you, the metal rings of the netting hit the hull with a soft clinking noise. 

“Not so fast.” Steve pulls his hand away just far enough to remove all friction. “Because three days, sweetheart, it was torture. Felt like an eternity right on the edge.”

“Please,” you beg.

One deliberate swipe of his fingers through your slick is enough to make you mewl.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve. Please, I need you.”

“Need me? You have an odd way of showing it, doll. You have to promise me—“ he thrusts his fingers in “—promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you,” you cry, convinced that it’s true for the sole reason: you never want to experience anything other than this Steve for as long as you live.

“You are so brave, and so…capable, and I know you can do anything, but you…can’t survive anything.” He takes excruciating pleasure in slow thrusts and teasing circles. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless. Promise, say it.”

“I promise.” Your weight sags into his ministrations, called to focus on nothing but where his hand disappears between you. “I promise I won’t be reckless.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls limp against your tied arms. It sounds so good from his lips. Why did you ever doubt?

“I promise I’ll come back to you,” you manage out like a prayer.

“Yeah? That’s it. Is that what you want?”

“I promise. I promise, Steve.” You time your movements sloppily with his measured tempo. “Please, I need more.”

“I know. I know.” He’s strung out, too, listening to your pathetic whimpers after less than five minutes, exactly like he predicted.

You’re so over-wrought with desperation you can’t coordinate with his manhandling your legs apart—your knees, really, since your ankles are still caught in your pants. Instead of taking off your boots, Steve simply unzips himself and dives right into your wet, warm, and welcoming pussy.

Knowing he has a thing against anything naughty in his suits makes it sexier. You want his intensity—you’ve always been curious—and finally you have it: unhinged, untethered, super Steve Rogers. Your body makes room out of sheer joy.

“I know,” Steve coos, his face pressed to your chest as he adjusts. “Fuck, I know, honey.”

“Move, Steve.”

“No,” he says with a gentle kiss to your sternum. “You wanna come? Go ahead. You can do it all on your own. You can do anything you want, can’t ya?”

You groan in frustration.

You wanted this, an annoying voice in the muddled depths of your mind calls. You’re independent.

With a sob of both excitement and fury, your thighs weld onto that sturdy, I-beam beast. You brace your bent arms over your angled and hovering body, leveraging the cargo straps to hoist you up and down.

Your muscles burn, strained more than they were on your lone journey back to HQ.

Steve grunts and moans, the ghost of his wide spread palms beneath your back as a safety net.

“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” 

Amidst your own noises, you can barely hear him. You’re not building to a climax, you’re falling into one at terminal velocity, flailing. Struggling to hang on and let go all at once, you do come, but it’s more of a plateau than a full release.

Steve’s unhappy and takes your ass in a bruising grip, finally pumping his thick length in and out, dragging the head of his cock across that perfect spot over and over.

“You can do better than that,” he snarls, hair wrecked and falling in his face.

Wave, undertow, and wave again, pleasures simply blend into the next. He gets handsy, keyed up and out of control, muttering “don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

You’d scold him for cursing if the air weren’t being punched from your lungs.

“Come on, sweetheart. Three for three.”

You’re almost disappointed he only wants you to come three times in payment for his days of torture. Even as a tear escapes the corner of your eye and your throat breaks in a hoarse “please,” you know you would give him more. You'd give him anything.

When you finally reach that shattering end, Steve is almost incoherently feral, one hand clamped at the back of your neck, the other anchored to the small of your back, slamming your ass to his leather-covered thighs like you are his mission.

“I promise,” you try to repeat, but you aren’t sure they sound like words.

Whether in response to you or as an errant thought, Steve’s own broken voice rattles at your sweaty neck. “You can take it,” he whispers gruffly. “You can take it.”

You’re floating by the time he comes, his hips stilling slowly. The buzz of your body now outdoes anything anesthesia or pain meds concocted.

Steve peppers your skin with lazy, light kisses until you remind him of your bound wrists, but then he’s overly apologetic and scrambling to free them.

He keeps himself inside you and maneuvers to sit with you on his lap.

You stay there for a while, your numb and sore arms folded between your chests. Steve only stops petting your shoulders to cradle your face, soft blue eyes roaming, adoring. He whispers concern that you’re okay, how are your legs, are you warm enough, you feeling good?

Yes, you think, you’ve taken care of your girl.

“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbles long after the pins and needles have abandoned their assault on your tired legs.

You tuck some silky hair behind his ear. “Like what? Fucked out?”

He’s floating too because he doesn’t chastise.

“Happy, healthy—“ he lets out a deep sigh “—home.”

“Speaking of home,” you say, inching ever so slightly higher to let him slide out of you, “wanna cuddle in bed all night and not get up until someone tries to break in the door?”

That knocks some of the glow off him. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh god, the poor people who have to clean this thing…”

“Let’s be honest,” you snort. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s been on you, but if it’s that big of a deal, we could go hose you down before handing our equipment in.”

He smiles, shaking his head in dismissal.

With his help, you climb off his lap and slowly shimmy up your bottoms, realizing he did truly make a mess of you both.

Steve looks down at his own lap, horrified. “Do I need to burn this?”

“That sounds like a challenge to make you filthier,” you consider, but maybe you should change into your civies before exiting the jet…

“Ya know,” Steve muses, passing over to the small locker of clothing overhead and grabbing a t-shirt and sweats, “I almost got shot in the head today, and you had three bullets fished outta you a week ago. I’m thinking we’ve earned a vacation.”

Workaholic Steve? Actively applying for time off? You’ll be damned.

“My my my, Captain Rogers…the real dirty talk begins.”

He huffs out a laugh and blushes.

“Well, I know we didn’t do anything more special than dinner for our anniversary, so…” He pulls you to his chest again, smelling of slightly musty laundry and pungent sex. “Let’s go on a fucking vacation.”

Your neck cranes to his height to see a soft smile. Oof, he’s good.

 “I missed you,” he adds like a prayer, “and you’re the badass who saved me.”

He giggles at your scrunched nose and watches you bask in that glory.

“Like I said, you’re welcome—“ you hug Steve, letting his warmth radiate through you, moving in time with his rising and falling chest “—and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses the crown of your head.

When you open the bombay doors, there’s a thermos left at the base of the ramp, a folded paper tucked beneath it. 

We should talk about how to better soundproof the jets. Brought you some refreshments. It’s hazelnut. ~Bucky

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jamneuromain @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @brandycranby

A/N: I sincerely give up on editing this anymore, so I hope it turned out okay 🙇🏻‍♀️

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#shy anon #ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #old dog new tricks #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america smut

[moneymartin]

・❥・- one more?

summary: kate comes home tired and needy :( part two to this fic. build up drabble to part three

warnings: none! fluff cause its kate :3 this is kinda shorter than the last one soz. again, every divider is a skip. most are constant cuz im lazy. didn’t know how to end oops!!!

rpf dont read it if ur uncomfy thx

a/n: all yjs reqs r still itw soooo they’ll be out soon poopies 🙄 also my single part drabble for kate is lowk marinating in my drafts and i don’t have the motivation to finish it…

its been 5 months since you and kate finally ended up together. pretty long, right? but you two never really got the hang of this thing, especially after remembering how long those feelings between you two had been brewing up for. it was still hard for you to show up to her games and practice due to soccer season, and the second it ended, you showed up to nearly every single one of them.

“i really can’t come this time, baby, i told you!” you grumble while kate drags you across the dorm. they had their practice game at carver today but you couldn’t make it, which made kate upset. “dilanni is gonna kill me if i don’t show up.” your soccer team needed to show up together for this fundraiser, and it was during the offseason. fucking lame. you hated letting her down all the time but some things like this just needed to be done.

kate’s fingers grip at your sweater sleeve, her eyes soft, and lips slightly pouting. “can you please just say you feel sick!? you’ll finish quicker than i will and it’s not like they won’t let you in.” she begs and tugs a little at it. her height makes you a little overwhelmed but she’s slightly bent at the knees and trying to make herself seem smaller than she really is. “kate, its just practice. its not like its the final fours yet.” you sigh and make her stand up straight. your eyes dart to hers and you bring your hands up to cup her face. the way she leans into your touch makes your face flush up like never before.

“yeah, but you always show out! i know we’re still trying to keep this on the down low still but i love pointing at you in the crowd before i make a shot during our practices.” she complains, trying to pull her head away from your hands but you keep her in place like a vice. your thumb brushes up against her face and she sighs under her breath. all those shots that she makes have all been for you ever since. and you didn’t even know that. everything she did on the court was meant for you. “i’ll make a deal with you, okay?” your words make her feel a little bit better and she nods ecstatically.

“when you get back we can do whateverrrr you want to make you feel better about me not showing up. does that sound good?” you propose, the idea crossing your mind after you realize that she just wants to spend that time with you while her teammates try to piece together this big puzzle. none of them know other than caitlin, and they’re completely unaware of you and kate’s relationship. “yes! okay, deal! deal deal deal…!” she blurts out and smiles stupidly, leaning her head towards you again as a sign that she wants a kiss.

you give it and let go of her face, wrapping your arms around her waist quickly and pressing another big kiss to her cheek. “don’t work yourself too hard out there.” you breathe out and pat her back before letting go of it. “this fundraiser should only be an hour, trust me.” kate just shrugs and smiles again, less big but you still know that she’s pretty happy at your little proposition for when she gets back. the moment you walk out of that door, her face drops and she rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. she’s alone now, and doesn’t know what to do. you’ve been with her for every game and every practice so she’s lost most of her motivation to go. “aw, dang it..”

after your little fundraiser, you come home exhausted and dreary when you realize kate is gone too. you two are exactly the same person, lost without one another. it’s cute but sometimes it’s hard. this whole relationship thing is such a different concept and it makes your head hurt. the lock clicks on the door and you dig through your closet, finding a pair of pjs and some small shirt kate likes seeing you wear for ‘some reason’. which is what she says every time you ask.

a quick change and your casual clothes scatter across the floor before you basically face plant into the pillows. a warm feeling fills up your body while you fall asleep, a feeling that seems different still without kate. you two always sleep and take naps together so this is another thing you have to get yourself used to.

the stupid fundraiser ran longer than it should have. at least another 30-45 minutes extra and you weren’t very prepared for it. kids were all over the place too and you were somewhat on babysitting duty? according to your teammates. you stood with all the kids for at least an hour and the questions they asked you were probably the stupidest things ever.

the sound of the door opening is what wakes you up, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes and sitting up. you’re met with the sight of kate rummaging sluggishly through her backpack and taking out clothes. she mumbles out a small ‘hi’ and yawns, walking into the bathroom. the sound of the shower hits your ears and you just lay back down, trying to keep yourself awake to fulfill that proposal you made earlier.

a few moments after the shower turns off, the bathroom door opens and your mattress shifts in weight, a few drops of water coaxing you to open up your eyes. kate is sitting on the edge of the bed and she tucks herself in, burying her face into your neck. “how was practice?” you mutter, moving her wet strands of hair to sprawl out on the bed. she grumbles into your neck instead of instantly responding. “tiring, huh?” you ask.

“extremely.” she whispers breathily and looks up at you. kate’s eyes are slightly droopy and her lips are pursed. your arm wraps itself around her back and you tilt her head up with your hand, making her look up at you as you start rubbing her temples gently. kate’s eyes are opening and closing continuously while your fingers continue to massage her head and she huffs heavily a few times.

you push kate’s head into your neck again and slide your hands onto her shoulders, patting them gently to make her fall asleep easier. she doesn’t though. instead, she hoists her head up and quickly locks her lips with yours, grabbing your waist and holding herself up with her arms. her fingers are gripping at the bedsheets tight and she’s kissing you a little bit too hard. not that you mind, of course. “mmmf.. hey?” you pant and pull away from the kiss, making eye contact with kate and realizing where she’s placed her hands.

“i’m just kissing you.” kate mumbles and doesn’t even bother waiting for you to finish catching your breath. she kisses you again, propping herself up on her elbows and grabbing your arms to wrap around her waist. “y- yeah! but like… let me get a breather at least.” you laugh quietly. you’re still trying to catch your breath and the more you try to get away, the more persistent she becomes. “c’mon. you’re just sleepy, baby. get your butt to bed and you’ll be alllll good in the morning.” you smile and push her shoulders down.

kate ends up falling onto your body and her nose brushes up against your cheek, her lips running up and down your neck as she starts kissing all over it. “one more..” she rasps out and slides her hands underneath your shirt. she starts to claw your back a few times, whining into your neck when you try to push her away. “kate, please.” you grunt and pull back, nearly falling off of the edge of the bed.

her face is the same one as earlier. her big, pretty blue eyes going soft and her lips pouting. she looks like a sad puppy and you hate it. you hate how you can’t say no to it. “just one more! this is the last one and i’ll sleep, i swear.” kate spits out and tilts her head to the side. she yawns, her eyes getting watery and now you know that it’s basically over for you. “i can’t.” you mutter. “yes, you can. it’s just one more kiss, babe. please?!��

“all you have to do is give me one, and i’ll sleep!”

“you say this all the time! you’re gonna say that you’ll ‘sleep after’ but the second my lips land on yours, you’re gonna act like an animal.”

“that’s not true.”

“oh, yeah? watch.”

you cup her cheeks and she grabs your waist gently, your lips going in for one quick one. when she feels how warm you are and how much you’re trying to really prove a point, she just helps your claim anyways. kate’s lips are against yours again, kissing hungrily.

i mean, she’s practically eating away at your face.

#um this is so bad. #bye #kate martin x reader #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #that pic of her is so cute

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Sweet Talker - Sam Kiszka

A/N: Remember when I said it would be a crime not to write a voice kink Sam fic? Yeah. There’s not much of a plot here really, just filth. Only lightly edited! I love you all so, so much!

WARNINGS: 18+!! Fingering, teasing, lots of dirty talk, voice!kink, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex (be smart, be safe!!)

MASTERLIST

••••

Sam’s voice.

No matter how many times you hear it, it tears its way through your ears and shakes its way through your body in the most knee-buckling ways imaginable.

The slightly raspy, yet soft and almost nonchalant drawl of his words, never fails to send sweet, debilitating chills up your spine. And god, did he fucking know it, too. He notices everything, but particularly loves to clock the little things that turn you on.

When it’s just the two of you, his voice is much softer and quieter than it is when he’s with his brothers, or socializing with others.

While you adore his boisterous laugh and louder tone when he’s excited, that quietness that he seems to save specifically for you, is your favorite. Your weakness.

“What did you do while I was gone today, gorgeous?” Sam asks you quietly, while his hand strokes up and down your bare back softly.

You snuggle further into his bare chest, fingers gliding over his collarbone as you lay on top of him in your shared bed. The two of you lay this way often, partially -or sometimes fully- bare and just talking - Informing the other about the days events. Some days offering much more dramatic of tales than others do.

“Mmm…” You trail off into thought, thinking very little about what you’ve even done throughout the day, but more so the tingle Sam’s voice has just sent through your body and straight to your core. “I didn’t do all that much today, really…”

“That’s a cop out,” his lazy, raspy voice shoots the teasing observation at you, as he glances down at you with that goofy grin of his.

You’re quick to defend yourself. “It is not! I would just ra-“

“-Rather listen to me talk?” You can hear the smile in his voice, the second he cuts you off to finish your sentence for you. “Uh huh, I bet you would.”

A crimson blush paints over your cheeks. You’re incredibly thankful that you can bury your face away into his neck.

“You do this almost every night, doll,” Sam points out, tone smug and knowing. “One of these days, you’re gonna get sick of hearing me talk so much. Now c’mon, tell me about your day and I will tell you all about mine after.”

A faint huff slips through your nose. Of course you want to talk to him about your day…after you take care of the ache making home between your legs that he has caused.

“I spent some time editing some photos… those boudoir ones that I took a couple days ago,” you explain casually, going into as little detail as possible.

“Yeah?” Sam’s hand continues drawing lines up and down your spine - effectively fueling the fire inside of you. The lilt in his tone playfully urges you to continue. “I bet they look beautiful… You should get some done soon…”

You tilt your head to look at him, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would love it,” he corrects with a light tap against your nose with his free hand. “The same way you would love a recording of me talking on a five hour loop.”

“That would depend on what you’re saying,” you shoot back, smiling. It doesn’t really matter what Sam was saying, his voice affects you, always. For the sake of guiding your little cuddle session in a different direction, though…

“Oh, really? So a professional recording of me talking about the weather, wouldn’t do anything for you?” Sam jests, bringing his opposite hand up to poke at your side.

“Sam,” you sigh, frustrated by his obvious stalling. He loves to make you wait and suffer and pine, just a little.

“What?” You feel him shrug against you, dropping his voice lower. “Would me telling you exactly how to touch yourself be better? Or me reciting all the praises I know you love so much?”

A shaky breath bursts out of you at that, a clear sign for Sam to continue. He isn’t exactly digging for any verbal answers just yet.

“Ohh, that struck a chord, didn’t it?”

And here he goes, right back to teasing you again.

Wrapping both arms around your body, he carefully flips the two of you over, so that you are laying beneath him.

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? For me to call you pretty and coo in your ear while you cum all over my hand?” He starts to place kisses along your jawline, working his way to the sensitive skin just below your ear. Slipping his hand in between your bodies, he just barely grazes his fingers over your heat, “Just… like… this…?”

Another whimper floats out of you just as Sam moves back up to join his lips with yours.

It’s a slow and sweet kiss at first, tricking you into believing Sam is going to give you exactly what you want, right away. His tongue pushes against yours gently, deepening the kiss and stealing all the air from your lungs until they’re burning and warming you to pull away. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away first.

Sam senses this and every few kisses, he slowly starts to pull away, making you chase after his mouth, wearing a smirk that grows with each of your impatient whimpers as he keeps his lips just out of your reach every time.

“What is it?” He questions knowingly, bringing his hand up to your jaw to keep you in place.

“Sam,” you’re fully pouting now, pushing against his grip in attempts to kiss him more. “You’re always being a tease.”

“Quit pouting.” He nudges your bottom lip with his thumb playfully. “You love it when I tease you. Don’t even try to act like you don’t.”

Sam is right and you know it. He knows you know it, too. You can’t fool him.

He takes your silence as victory, “Uh huh. See?”

The teasing, slightly condescending cadence to his tone sends you reeling all over again. His knowing smirk making your stomach twist with desire and excitement. As it always does.

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips with all the strength you can muster.

Your lips meet not so gracefully at first, and you swallow down the low chuckle Sam emits before the kiss turns needy and quick in pace.

Sam’s hands start to feel around your body, gripping at your hips, your waist. A soft growl vibrates through his chest. The sound reminds you why you want to be in this position in the first place.

“Sammy…baby.” It comes out almost like a plea. You need to hear him.

“You’re such a needy thing,” Sam says, shaking his head.

“Not needy,” you protest. “Just wanna hear your voice.”

“I was gonna get there, if you would just be patient.” Sam chuckles, hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Can you do that? Be my sweet, patient, girl?”

All you do is shake your head ‘yes,’ but that’s not good enough for your Sammy. Not in the slightest.

He leans in, lips grazing yours with the formation of each of his words, “That just won’t do. I think you already know that, too. Speak up, princess. Spit it out.”

It’s low and raspy, the demand. You’ll do absolutely anything that his gravely, lust-drawn voice asks of you.

“I’ll be patient for you.” You give in right away. “I’ll be your good girl.”

“Yeah? You’ll be my good girl?” Sam questions, trailing his hand down from your throat to your chest, teasing and toying with your nipple.

“Yes, s-sir.” Your breath catches in your throat, your body warming rapidly as Sam continues to feel around your chest.

“You always are,” Sam sighs, his right hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just shy of your core. “You always listen so well and cum so pretty for me.”

Your hips raise to press harder against his splayed hand, the warmth of it only adding to your body’s excess of heat and need.

Sam leans in even closer, nudging your head to the side with his nose. His lips graze your ear, sending chills up your spine. All while his hand continues it’s decent between your legs.

“What is it, princess?” He notices the way your breath catches in your throat, the soft squeak of a whimper giving you away. He places a few kisses to the pulse point below your ear. “Your heart is racing. Did I get you all worked, sweet girl?”

“Sammy…” It’s a desperate plea, almost embarrassingly whiny - the way his name falls off your tongue.

“I know, I’m gonna make you feel good,” Sam assures you, sliding his middle finger through your folds, sighing as your arousal completely coats his finger. “Is this what my needy girl wanted? For me to talk to her and play with her sweet little cunt?”

A few slow circles over your clit is all it takes to pull a moan from you, making Sam’s lips curve up into a cocky smirk.

“There we go,” Sam starts, voice low and smooth. “There’s those pretty noises.”

Sam’s thumb replaces his middle finger, keeping the light pressure against your clit, knowing that it will drive you straight to an orgasm and fast. His middle and ring fingers slip inside you slowly, curling up into that sweet spot that he can do perfectly reach.

“Fuck, Sammy,” you cry, reaching up to grip at his bicep. “Right there, please…”

“Right where, princess? Here?” He punctuates the question with a firm curl of his fingers, holding the pressure for a few seconds until you begin to squirm beneath him.

“Oh god- Fuck, yes! Sammy, please!” Your breathing becomes even more labored, eyes screwing shut as you fall into overwhelming pleasure.

“Such a pretty girl,” Sam coos, smiling down at you. “I love when you whimper my name like that.”

“Keep talking, Sammy, please,” you beg him, head lulling back against the pillows.

“Keep talking?” Sam teases lightly, dropping his voice even lower. “You just love my voice, huh? Bet I could make you cum just by talking to you. What do you think, gorgeous?”

“I-“ You attempt to form a coherent sentence, but another wave of pleasure and moan stops you short. “P-probably.”

“Mmm, might have to test that out one night,” Sam hums, as if just voicing a casual thought out loud.

You feel Sam’s forehead press against yours, only serving to make you melt further into the sheets.

“Listen to me, baby doll,” Sam practically growls, although he knows he already has every bit of your attention. You force your eyes open to meet his. “You’re gonna cum right on my fingers and say my name nice and pretty when you do. Okay?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you answer him breathlessly, feeling yourself squeeze around his fingers, pulling them in even deeper. Oh, how your body reacts to him. Every. Time.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praises, kissing down your cheek to your neck. “Let me have it, gorgeous. Please.”

It burns low in your stomach, your body’s internal scream for release. A few more pumps of his fingers and swirls of his thumb, throw you over the edge and into the raging waves of your high.

You feel it throughout your whole body, tensing and relaxing all the muscles in your body rapidly.

Your head spins as you come down, but Sam clearly isn’t ready to stop.

Your hand shoots down to wrap around his wrist, tugging at it in attempts to stop the overstimulation. “S-Sammy-“

“-Ah,” he cuts you off, pulling your hand away and flattening his hand out over your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart. “Baby doll thought I was done?”

A constant stream of whimpers huff out of you with short bursts of breath. You can feel your clit throbbing against Sam’s thumb, the overstimulation twisting into pleasure with the littlest hint of pain.

“You wanted me to talk to you all low and soft and pretty…” Sam taunts, moving with your squirming body, following every jerk. “And make you cum all over my fingers, but now you can’t take it? My little sensitive girl.”

The shudder that shakes through your body at his words, draws a low, raspy chuckle from Sam’s chest.

“Oh? Someone liked that, didn’t she?” Sam continues his relentless taunting, pulling his soaked fingers out to circle your clit.

Opening your mouth with the intention to answer him, all that manages to come out is a breathy whine. A noise so high pitched and desperate sounding, you might be the slightest bit embarrassed about it, when you think back on it later.

Sam’s lips curve up into a shit eating smirk, far too pleased at the sounds and reactions he’s pulling from you. And it’s so easy.

He leans in, mocking the airy, high pitched noise you just made, directly into your ear.

“F-fuck yo- u-oh, fuck,” you stutter, moaning and stumbling over your own words as Sam quickens the circles over your bundle of nerves. “

“Oh, fuck.” It’s parroted right back to you, his voice mimicking yours; sweet and needy.

Why the way he mocks you turns you on so much more, you aren’t exactly sure. You haven’t the brain power to ponder on it, yet, either.

That sweet and most welcomed burn reforms in the pits of your belly, just waiting for the perfect pass of Sam’s fingers to unravel and take over your whole body once again.

“I’m so close, Sammy,” you warn, gripping at the blanket beneath you with one hand and the pillow behind your head with your other. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop? Don’t stop what?” He knows exactly what you mean. “Don’t stop talking to you, or don’t stop pleasing this throbbing little clit?”

“Sammy…” It trots out of you through a whimper.

“Gonna make you cum one more time before I give it to you.” Sam says, as though it isn’t up for debate. And at this point, it isn’t. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Your back arches off the mattress, the pleasure finally taking over your body in a second orgasm.

“That’s right, gorgeous,” Sam practically groans. “Let it all go for me. My pretty, messy, princess. Absolutely fucking gorgeous when you cum for me like this.”

Sam’s lips are suddenly colliding with yours in a searing kiss, capturing all your little noises right in his mouth.

As soon as he feels your body start to jolt, he eases his skilled fingers from your clit, sliding them down through your wetness to bring up to his watering mouth.

“Jesus christ, you taste so fucking good.” Sam sinks your fingers in and out of his mouth, watching you watch him.

You’ve watched him do it before, but it never fails to completely wipe all coherent thoughts from your mind -no matter how many times you’ve seen him do it- to watch him be so filthy.

Dropping his hand from your mouth, he wraps it loosely around your neck, just barely squeezing as he leans down to reconnect your lips.

You can taste yourself all over his lips. It’s an addicting combination of your own release and the aftertastes of mint on his tongue. Creating a sweet, spicy, concoction out of the two of you. Fitting.

“Tell me, baby doll,” Sam calls gently for your attention. “You want me here again?” His fingers trace over your lips ever so lightly. “Or here?” His hand travels down your body, tracing over your folds with the same featherlight touch, before dipping down to gather more of your wetness and begin slowly stroking over your clit again.

Your body jolts and convulses on its own accord, making Sam laugh lowly at you and your bodies way of displaying its sensitivity.

“Awe, is it too much for you now, doll?” Sam teases, lips dragging over the center of your throat. “Has this poor little clit had enough?”

“Need you inside me.” You raise your hips, trying to press yourself against his cock, visibly straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck me, Sammy, please.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, when you beg that pretty.” Sam removes both hands from your body, tucking them into the hem of his boxers, shoving them down his legs hastily.

Taking himself in his hand, a shaky exhale flutters out of Sam. His eyes close, hair falling around his face as he continues to lose himself with each stroke of his own hand.

At last, he pulls himself back together and guides himself through your folds, letting out a deep, breathy, groan at the feeling of how wet you are.

“F-fuck,” Sam mutters, shakily trying to line himself up with your entrance.

Your jaw falls slack, as he pushes himself into you with a smooth thrust of his hips.

“Oh, m-my god…” Your words barely stutter out loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam brings himself down above you, using one of his forearms to hold his body just above yours. His other hand slips up to tangle into your hair, tilting your head back against the pillows.

“Move, Sammy, please move.” Your voice is pathetic, dripping in desperation and submissiveness.

“What if I make you wait?” He questions slyly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “What if we stayed just like this and I just talk to you some more? Tell you how amazing you feel wrapped around my cock, until you cum all over it just from my words?”

“Sam, I swear to god…” You try to fight back, wanting nothing more than for him to just move and fuck you completely senseless.

“You clearly love the idea,” Sam points out. “And you love when I talk to you like this. I know that’s why you squirm every time I hold you close and say little things in your ear. Why do you think I’ve started doing that more often? You think I don’t notice how your breath catches when I say even the most mundane things right in your ear?”

“You’re right, I love it,” you say through a fresh wave of whimpers that are tearing through your throat and filling up the room. You’ll always soak up his praises like a plant starving for water.

“I fucking…love it…”

Sam tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “You’re clenched so tight around me…I could cum in you right now.”

Now that…

That strikes a new nerve, causing you to arch your body into Sam’s followed by a noise reminiscent of a sob.

“Oh, fuck me…” Sam curses, fist tightening in your hair as you flutter around his already throbbing cock.

Unable to wait any longer, Sam begins to rock his hips, slowly dragging himself in and out of you. The burn of him stretching you out rips another unholy sound from your lungs - one that he accidentally mimics, but in a much deeper tone.

“My sweet baby doll, making me feel so good.” Sam picks up the speed and depth of his thrusts. “You love on my cock so well, don't you? You're always just so, so sweet to it."

Sam’s head falls against your shoulder, short huffs of uneven breaths hitting your neck and adding yet another sensation to the pile.

Your hands reach around his body, one tangling in his soft tresses, while the other claws it’s way down to the center of his back - surely leaving flaming red marks in its wake.

“Pull it,” he groans, tilting his head back ever so slightly, to ensure you know exactly want he means.

You oblige without missing a beat, tightening the hand tangled in his hair and tugging it firmly.

“Fuck, goddamn,” Sam sputters, delivering a particularly deep thrust into you, making you gasp and choke on the words you’re trying to form.

“What's that? You feeling good?” Sam fires questions at you breathlessly. Later you’ll probably wonder how he manages to stay together enough to form full, coherent sentences.

“You want to tell me about it? About how my cock is filling you up so good? How you can feel me here?" He lays his hand over your stomach, splayed out and applying the littlest bit of pressure.

You open your mouth to speak, babble some barely understandable praises and call out his name over and over again. Yet, nothing comes out. Your mouth simply hangs open, not even a hint of a sound coming forth from your lungs; they simply hold captive any air left within them as Sammy relentlessly fucks you.

“Tell me, baby, tell me how good it feels,” Sam smirks cockily, knowing full well that you can’t. “You can't even talk, huh? Am I fucking you speechless, doll face?"

“S-so close,” you gasp, both hands gripping at Sam’s shoulders now in hopes that you will stay anchored to earth.

“Are you? Tell me you’re gonna cum so pretty for me,” Sam demands, snaking his hand between your two bodies to rub hasty circles over your bundle of nerves. “Say it for me.”

It takes every part of your body to form the words for him. “I-I’m gonna cum s-so pretty for you, Sammy.”

“You want me to talk you through it? Huh?” Sam’s voice is dripping with sex, low and smooth as silk. “Yeah, I'm gonna talk you through it, baby."

A few more deep thrusts of his hips and passes of his calloused fingertips over your hyper sensitive clit, is all it takes to unravel you.

“Come on, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me.” Sam coaxes.

The way you clench around him, suffocating his cock, dragging him to his own high right behind you, has him sucking a long breath through his teeth before he can even speak.

“That’s it, baby doll. Fuck, there it is.” He’s hardly keeping it together above you, determined to work you through most of your orgasm before he allows himself to fall into his own. “That’s my good girl, so fucking pretty making a mess all over me. My gorgeous, messy, baby doll.”

You can hear him, faintly, as you ride out your seemingly never ending climax. And God, do you love when he calls you ‘baby doll.’

Just as you start to come down, Sam’s thrust become sloppy and sporadic, signaling that he’s reached his own high.

“Where do-“

You cut him off before he even finishes his sentence. “-Inside me. Let me have it, please, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck…” he draws the word out, rough and airy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“

His hips rock into lazily a few more times, the obscene sounds of both of your releases, bouncing off the four walls of your room.

“How the fuck does this manage to happen every night,” Sam huffs jokingly, slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you, still fighting to catch his breath.

“It might not if your voice wasn’t always dripping with sex appeal every time you open your mouth,” you jest right back.

“What?” Sam gasps, feigning shock, but fighting back a smile. “So you only fuck me for my voice? How low of you, doll.”

“You’re right,” you admit, grinning at him. “I don’t just fuck you for your voice… I also fuck you for your pretty face.”

Sam wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into him with a pleased smile. “Mm. That’s fair enough, I do have a pretty face.”

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[sanguineterrain]

about a house | eddie munson

i am back with another installment of my about a boy series! you don't have to read them to understand this fic, so check them out only if you feel like it :)

Summary: You and Eddie have your first time together.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings/tags: insecure reader, unspecified trauma and poor self image, NSFW but it's not descriptive. reader's biology is unspecified. first time having sex, established relationship, hurt comfort.

if you enjoy this, please let me know through reblogs (and a comment, if you feel like!)

divider by firefly-graphics | i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

Eddie tastes like rain. 

You'd gotten caught in a thunderstorm on your way back from The Hideout tonight. Baby curls are slicked against his neck. His rings are warm from his body and the July heat. They're a comfortable weight against your arm. 

He smells like a million things. Cheap beer. Bar peanuts. Smoke. Leather. The chalky Dial soap that's quickly become your favorite scent. 

But Eddie tastes like rain. 

Your arms are stiff beneath him. You want to move them. You like when Eddie kisses you. You like that he tastes differently each time. 

But you're stuck. 

"Baby?" 

And now he's noticed. 

Eddie lifts his head. He tucks a wet curl behind his ear. You reach to twirl it around your finger. He smiles at you. You feel monstrous. Like you've just crawled out from under his bed, in view when you shouldn't be.

You belong to the void. But Eddie's never been afraid of the dark. 

"Hey, honey," he whispers, thumb sliding over your cheek. "What's up? Y'wanna stop?" 

You asked him this morning. Eddie had made waffles, and he'd just finished inhaling three and was on his fourth when you asked. 

"Can we have sex?"

He’d put his fork down, wiped a drop of syrup from the corner of his lip with his thumb and sucked it clean. Then he’d looked at you very seriously. 

"Do you want to have sex?"

And, well. Yes. Obviously. That's why you asked, isn't it?

You're on his bed. There are too many things in his room that remind you of how none of this is yours and that you ought to let Eddie go soon so he actually has a shot at a real relationship. Those are definitely mood killers. You are definitely a mood killer. 

"No," you say. "No, I don't want to stop." 

You feel his eyes on you, feel him parse whether you're lying or not. Not even lying—just if you're unaware. Sometimes Eddie has to remind you that you can tell him no. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You stare at his wall of metal posters. At things that make him Eddie. You clutch his t-shirt tighter. His thumb rubs circles on your hip.

"What if it's weird?" you ask. 

"What is?" 

"This. Me. My body."

You look at yourself, at your rucked up shirt, your sockless feet. 

"All bodies are weird," Eddie says. 

"No, they're not."

"Yeah-huh. You think my body isn't weird? My body's just as freaky as the ol' noodle."

He taps his temple with one finger. 

"You're not weird, though," you say. 

"No?" 

You turn your head and stare at the single window in Eddie's room. It's pitch black outside. You kind of want the light to be off in here too. 

"Maybe this won't be good," you say. "Maybe I won't like it. Maybe I'll be bad."

He eases your head back so you face him once again. 

"Sweet thing, you could bite my lip off and I'd still love ya. And if you don't like it at any point, we'll stop. No questions."

"It has to be good," you say. 

Eddie tilts his head. There's no trace of humor in his eyes now. 

"Why does it have to be good?" he asks quietly. 

"Because it's me." 

"What?"

You sigh. 

"You know what I mean," you say. "You know, Eddie."

"I'm not sure that I do, sweet thing."

You look at him, wishing he'd read your mind. But he can't, and it's not fair to expect him to. Eddie may not be afraid of the dark, but that doesn't mean he should stumble through your brain. 

"You live in your body," you say, like it explains everything. It should. 

"And you… don't?" 

“I live…” You look down at your body. Sometimes you forget it's yours. “I live outside. It's like… like I'm a house. And I've lost the keys. So I watch through a window and wait to be let in.”

“Maybe you're already inside,” he says. 

“How can I be inside if I don't know how to get to the kitchen or the bedroom?” You squeeze your eyes shut. “It's like I'm a ghost.”

It has to be another house because your house isn't inviting to someone like Eddie. You'll let him in and the decoration will put him off and you've never learned how to say the right things at the right time, and when you invite someone inside, there's an expectation—

“Baby. Hey. Hey, honey.” Eddie taps your cheek gently. “Can y’look at me, please? You're worrying me.”

“You won't like my house,” you say, and open your eyes. Your vision blurs at the edges. “I don't even like my house.”

Eddie's wearing that pinched expression that resurfaces whenever you say something sad. 

Outside, the rain keeps on. You're too sad for him. 

“I think you've got a very beautiful house,” he says. “I've seen the outside and gotten peeks of the inside and everything I've seen has only made me want to see more.” 

He leans in and kisses you like your paint isn't peeling, like the roof hasn't caved in, like you aren't beyond fixing. 

“I like your windows and their shutters,” he says, kissing your eyelids. “And I like your door. I like the music and laughter that comes out of it.” He kisses your mouth, petting your hips.  

“I like your door,” you whisper into his mouth. 

Eddie smiles against your skin and kisses down your neck. 

“Mm, what else? I like how strong your house is. How it's been rained on so many times and it's still here. I like the light that shines from inside, how warm and inviting it is. I like that you let me through the front gate even though it's scary to let someone in.”

“Eddie.” You’re begging. “Don’t have to like it. I’ll let you in anyway.”

Eddie reels back, dark eyes molten. “Don’t ever think you have to let me inside to keep me. Alright? This is your house, baby. Not mine. I come when invited. And I love you. I love every part.”

“I want you in,” you say. You do. You never thought you would but you’re sure that you want Eddie inside. 

He cups the back of your head and your hip. It makes your bricks wobble. You never knew that living in your body could be a home and not a break-in. 

Eddie’s house is beautiful, but you knew that. His skin is smooth, dotted with freckles and moles. Silver scars criss-cross over his stomach. He catches you staring.

“One day, I’ll tell you about ‘em,” he murmurs, tracing your cheek with his thumb. “But tonight‘s about you.”

“I like your house,” you say.

Eddie smiles. His cheeks tinge red.  

“You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world,” he says. 

He helps you take off your clothes. You take longer than him, but Eddie doesn’t rush. Just kisses your exposed skin.

“We can stop here if you want,” he says when you’re both bare. 

“It might not be good,” you say again. “Remember?”

“Sweet thing, have you ever considered that maybe it’ll be good because it’s you?”

You pull him in by his neck, so you can whisper in his ear. You can’t look at Eddie’s windows right now. 

“Inside might be scary,” you say. 

Eddie makes a warm sound. “Everybody’s got an attic, baby. Nothing scary ‘bout ‘em.”

You search for his hand blindly. He links your fingers and kisses the shell of your ear.

“Come in,” you say. 

So Eddie does.

It isn’t long before you’re both panting. Eddie’s pet you for a long while, sweet strokes that make you squeal and sigh. Your sounds make him grin every time. 

“Do you—do you like my house?” Your ankles cross behind Eddie's back. The wind whistles against the window. This is not a break-in.

“Sweet thing, I'd love your house even if you never let me inside,” Eddie says, a moan stuck in his throat as he bottoms out. “You okay? Y’wanna keep going?”

You nod and tuck your face into his shoulder. Eddie’s curls are frizzy and they stick to his forehead. Words climb dangerously up your throat, words about houses and moving in and vows and picking furniture. Your eyes burn. 

“Baby, are y—hey.” Eddie starts to pull out. You shake your head furiously and keep his hips lined with yours. 

“No, ‘m fine,” you say, lightning in your belly growing. “Really, Ed, fine. Just feel safe. You’re safe. I love your house.”

Eddie’s answering hum is tender. He kisses you hard, salt on your door.

You find yourself in the window’s reflection again. The rain keeps on. 

This time, you don’t feel locked out. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson imagine #gender neutral reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things #Eddie munson #about a boy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Sinuses are trying but I'm fighting!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"There you are. Lots to go around," Frigga seals the top of another container. "It'll be a nice surprise, eh?"

"Uh, thank you," you offer a fragile smile.

"Of course, dear. I know how stressful it can be to care for the sick. Odin, my husband, had a scare a few years back. A heart episode..." she explains as she puts the large containers in a cloth bag, "it was a rather eventful family dinner, to say the least."

You let your smile fall. You're reminded of your father on the floor, lifeless, your mouth over his as you desperately tried to breathe life into him. The kitchen blurs around you as you revert to the horror of that moment.

"Darling," Frigga frightens you with a gentle squeeze on your forearm, "apologise if I said something."

"No, no, my dad will be happy," you roll the tension from your shoulders. "Leslie too."

"Leslie?" She prompts curiously.

"His nurse. Sometimes she cooks dinner so this will save her some work."

"Ah, a nurse. That must be expensive."

"A little," you admit, "I have some stuff to finish up on still..."

"Oh, don't let me keep you any longer. I know how demanding my son can be," she pats the bag and slides it to the corner of the counter, "this will be waiting for you."

"Thank you. Again."

You turn to go, little, reluctant steps as you venture back into the large house. Dread slows your feet like a ball and chain as you climb the staircase, pausing every few steps to listen. Mr. Laufeyson is lurking somewhere, like a snake in the grass, you know it.

You turn towards the library and pass the open study door. You peek inside and find it empty.  You press on and knock before you enter the library. Alone, you shut the door and let out a heavy breath.

Your heart is racing as if you've escaped some terrifying race. You go to the desk and sit, leaning forward to plant your elbows in front of the closed laptop and cradle your head. What is happening? You can't handle all this. You need to get it together. But how? You've never dealt with any of this before; the spreadsheet, the woman coddling you, and the man who looms in the shadows.

Shoot! You forgot about Ronan. He's due to finish soon. You should go check on him. You stand up and spin, stopping short as a figure fills the door frame between the study and library. You stare at Mr. Laufeyson like a doe caught before a speeding car.

"You have some time," he raises his wrist, checking his watch; the black band and the blue face, that little accessory that caused so much trouble.

"Um, yes, I was going to see the carpenter--"

"I've dealt with him. He's loading up his truck now," Laufeyson slithers forward, "you needn't worry about him."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Laufeyson," you look down and open the laptop, stunned by the image on the screen. 

You expect your screensaver to cascade down but instead, there's a woman in a rather scant black and white outfit. Your lips part and you slam shut the computer. Your fingers rest on the lid as Mr. Laufeyson strides closer.

"Hope you don't mind I borrowed your laptop, my own was charging," he purrs, "bit of online shopping, seeing as my mother's hard work should save us some cost on culinary services."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you tremble, staring at the desk, "what..."

He hums and leans in, his fingers splayed wide as he places his hands on the wood, "what...hm?"

You steel yourself and force yourself to look him in the eye. You flinch at the darkness there and stutter. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He snickers and tilts his head, "I simply thought you earned a bonus with all your hard work," his tongue pokes out as he smirks. "It should suit you well..."

You take a step back, nearly falling into the chair as you collide with it. You can't hear above the pounding in your temples. No, it can't be what you think it is. He's not saying that. He can't expect you to wear that... that... thing. You stumble around the seat and scurry to the door, fumbling with the handle as his calm pursuit trails after you.

As you pull the door inward, it snaps back shut. His hand is above you on the wood as he pens you in against the door. You whimper and clutch the handle tightly, pressing yourself to the door as your heart hammers against your ribs. You shudder as his other hand curves around your waist.

"When it arrives, you will put it on," he commands, "and you will begin your duties as always."

"Mr. Laufeyson, please, I'm scared--"

"You needn't be," he purrs as he leans in to inhale your scent, his breath grazing your scalp, "you take orders rather well. I trust you will continue to do so."

"I don't--" you wisp as you brace the door, his fingertips poking into your side as he grips you tighter, "I don't want to..."

"Mm, pet, you should know by now," he loosens his hold on you and lets his hand stretch across your stomach, dragging it up to your chest as he brings himself flush to your back, "this isn't about what you want." He bends and nips your ear with a growl, "you wouldn't want to let dear old dad down, would you?"

You whine and twist the handle frantically. You're pinned to it as he continues to grope you, rolling his body against yours from behind as he groans. You're mortified as heat radiates from his touch and floods your veins. The flames lick at you and have you tingle as nuzzles you breathily.

"Didn't think so," he rasps and slowly draws away.

He backs away as your knees buckle and you slide down the door, crumpling against it. His shadow struts away as your hands shake and you watch them in a haze of shock. You're weak, you're stupid, and you're worthless.

You could scream for help, you could run out, you could try. But you won't because he's right. You can't. You need him more than he needs you.

💄

Mr. Laufeyson opens the door ahead of you, waiting patiently as he turns to watch you. You carry the bag of containers against your work bag down the hall as Frigga trails you. She informs you that she put a few extra goodies in as a surprise. You nod and thank her, trying not to show your discomfort as you near your employer.

"Thank you, mother, but I'm certain she is eager to be away," Laufeyson intones, "she has a loving father waiting for her at home."

You flinch. You still wonder if he'd witnessed that pocket dial or not. He's hard to read even when he's spelling it out clearly. You bid a final goodbye but scuff to a halt as Laufeyson stretches out an arm.

"Allow me," he takes the bag from you, his hand brushing yours before closing around the straps.

"Aw, Loki, my gentleman," Frigga preens, "darling, you have a good night."

You let him take the tote and your work bag. You precede him out the door, fluttering your fingers as if to shake away his touch. He follows you as his mother watches from the door. You keep your head forward as he comes close, sidling around you to open the passenger door before you can do so yourself. His behaviour sets you even more on edge. He's taunting you.

You get in and make yourself as small as you can in the seat. You refuse to look at him as you buckle in. He shuts the door and opens the rear one, placing the bags on the backseat before he diverts around the hood. He claims the driver seat, the car shifting slightly with his weight. He pushes the ignition and the car whirs to life. You fixate on the dashboard, trying to tamp out his presence and the memories nipping at your mind.

He clicks his belt into place and adjusts the mirror. He takes his time. You can tell it's deliberate. You don't understand him, but you're starting to. Everything he does is for his own delight, which he seems to draw only from your distress. You've never met anyone like him.

"A lovely day," he declares as he shifts gear, "wasn't it, pet?"

You blink and look at your lap, tracing a line on your palm.

"Now, don't be rude, I asked a question."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you mutter.

"You must be tired," his hand wanders from the stick to your knee, "why don't you close your eyes and enjoy the ride?"

"I'm okay," you fold your arms as he squeezes your leg.

"What is the matter, hm? You seem perturbed, pet."

You shudder and put your hand on his as it starts to crawl higher, "Mr. Laufeyson, please stop calling me that."

"I'm tired of your little game," he pinches the tender flesh of your leg.

"I'm not--"

"I've made myself very clear," he taps your leg before slipping his hand out from under yours, "I am interested and that's that. I am wealthy, attractive, I hardly see how it would be an issue..." he steers with one hand as he speaks to the road, "especially for someone like you."

It hurts. To have it said aloud. Not his intent, no, but your worth. Or, what you lack. Who are you to be picky?

You wiggle your nose and turn your face away. You don’t respond as your gaze pans through the window. Your eyes singe and your nose tingles. You feel like the little girl standing against the wall again. The whispers swirling all around you, fingers pointing, voices jeering…

The silence stretches the minutes to eons. You watch the streets pass and lean into each turn. Finally, he steers onto a familiar road. You’re almost there.

He slows and pulls against the curb outside your father’s house. You unbuckle the seat belt and he does the same. You glance up at him but he doesn’t notice. He gets out on his side as you hesitate. Before you can even get your door open, he’s halfway around the car.

You climb out, nearly colliding with the rear door as he swings it open. You sidestep it as he bends to reach within. He pulls out both bags, elbowing the door shut carelessly before stepping up on the pavement. You reach for your work bag and he evades your grasp.

“Ah ah, I insist, it wouldn’t be very nice to let you struggle with all of this.”

You pout. Nice? When has he ever been nice? He’s mocking you again.

“Mr. Laufeyson, please,” you beg, “I can handle it–”

“Go on, pet,” he motions ahead of him with the square tote, “it’s rather rude to refuse an offer of help.”

You cringe and shrug helplessly, throwing your hands up slightly. What else can you do but obey? He knows you have no other choice and he basks in that fact.

You turn and slouch, dragging your feet up the walk as he follows you. You search for an excuse to keep him outside. Some sort of out. He has to understand, your father is sick!

He trails you onto the porch and you stop at the door, facing him.

“I can get it from here,” you eke out.

“Nonsense, I don’t mind–”

“Please, Mr. Laufeyson, my father doesn’t feel well most days. He’s not fit for visitors.”

“I’ve come all this way. I know manners are hardly in vogue around these parts but it is only polite to invite someone in,” he reproaches.

You whimper. Why are you doing this? You don’t ask. You know already. He’s doing it because he can. Because you won’t stop him. You can’t.

“I don’t want you to go in,” you confess as you look down, “please don’t go insi–”

You hear the door, the loud groan of the squeaky hinges before the screen door hits your shoulder. You sidle out of the way and turn to Leslie as she pokes her head out. Her eyes flick up to Mr. Laufeyson and her forehead ripples in surprise.

“I was wondering what all the chatter was,” she opens the door wider, “what’s all this?”

“Um, Leslie,” you gulp, “I…” you blink and look at Mr. Laufeyson, “this is my boss. He just drove me home.”

“How nice,” she remarks, “that’s… him?” She steps out completely, “he’s your boss?”

“Loki,” he introduces himself, “charmed.”

“Me too, me too, I… Leslie, I help her father, I’m the nurse,” she explains.

“We brought dinner,” Laufeyson lifts the tote higher, “my mother wanted to send her well wishes. She heard about her father and wanted to help out.”

“That is so sweet,” Leslie fans herself, “please, sir, come in, come in, Charles will be so happy to meet you.”

Doom crashes down on you. You stand back as Leslie holds the door open and you only vaguely hear Laufeyson’s insistence that you go first. You move in a fuzzy sludge, barely aware of the world around you as your legs carry you on habit alone. 

You stand in the front entryway as Mr. Laufeyson hands over the bag. Leslie takes it with glee and hurries away. You sway and touch your forehead. You wince as he touches your arm.

“Mm, this place is… vintage,” he muses as he nudges you, “please, introduce me. I’ve heard so much.”

You breathe out shakily and curl your fingers into fists. You give a pleading look. You’re already too embarrassed to tell him the truth. He doesn’t want to meet your father and your father doesn’t want to meet him.

You surrender and turn cautiously. You meekly pass through the entryway, your father’s shoulders hunched over the table as he works on the puzzle. You shuffle closer, standing just behind the corner of the couch.

“Dad,” you utter, “um… this is my boss, Mr. Laufeyson. He, er, he brought us some food.”

“Eh, is that what she was going on about?” He snorts into a cough and covers his mouth. He makes no move to rise as he reaches for another piece.

“Charles, is it?” Laufeyson steps forward, stopping just beside you, “I prefer Loki. It’s a pleasure to finally meet.”

“Chuck,” your father snarls, “call me ‘Chuck’.”

“Of course, Chuck, I didn’t mean to presume.”

Your dad tosses the peace and scoffs. He coughs again and stands, adjusting the tub below his nose as he rounds on his visitor. Mr. Laufeyson doesn’t waver as your dad scowls in his direction.

“Wonderful home you have,” Laufeyson offers his hand.

Your father looks at his fingers then narrows his eyes at his face. Mr. Laufeyson is a head taller, though your dad is wider. He claps his hands against your boss’s and tries to jerk his hand. The effort teeters your father but does not affect the other man.

“You’re the one dressing her up like your little whore,” your dad sneers.

Mr. Laufeyson laughs curtly, “pardon?”

“Look at that skirt,” your father spits.

“Better than the rags you supplied,” Mr. Laufeyson retorts without pause, “I can see she didn’t get her manners from you.”

“What did you say to me, boy?” Your father’s face contorts with rage, “you come into my home and– and– and–” 

Your father coughs between each word until he’s racked and quaking. He grips the armrest as he leans forward and covers his mouth, unable to stop the fit. You go to help him but Mr. Laufeyson blocks you with his arm.

“He has his nurse,” he says brusquely.

“Please,” you beg.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you are,” Laufeyson lowers his voice dangerously as your father heaves, clutching his chest. 

“Fuck off,” your dad chuffs out.

Laufeyson snickers and sighs, “are you always so hospitable, sir?”

“If I wasn’t chained to this thing,” your dad clutches the tube trailing down his chest.

“Alas, you are,” the taller man shakes his head, “let’s not. We have a lovely dinner waiting for us. A real man might even be grateful.”

“I’m not hungry,” your father turns and drops onto the couch. “Choke on it.”

Mr. Laufeyson lowers his arm and takes your hand without a look. He drags you away from the couch. He pulls you level with him and commands you to lead him. You take him into the kitchen where Leslie stands by the stove, the radio buzzing on the shelf.

“Just gonna pop it in the oven for a couple,” she smiles, “hon, why don’t you grab some plates?”

“Yes, why don’t you,” Laufeyson urges, “we’ll sit down and have a lovely family dinner.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.9

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2943

Summary: Minho and you spend a day at the art gallery, Chan takes you out for dinner by the river. Both of them try their best to make room for you and reconnect. You haven't been so happy in a while.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, dinner date, museum date, soft!min, soft!chan

A/N: Thought I'd surprise you with another chapter today that I wrote after posting chapter 8. I think we could use the fluff🤭🖤

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

You exchange a soft smile with your husband, tilting your head at him. “You’re okay?” you ask gently. For a moment, all you can hear is the low hum of the city life outside the window. 

“Let’s go out today?” he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the calm. “Just you and me.”

You study Minho’s face, swallowing at the hope in his eyes. It’s been three weeks since you clashed and you’ve been working on easing out the many strains those past months have taken on your life. Sometimes, Minho seemed a little hesitant, not knowing if you’d let him in enough. “Where would we go?” you ask, allowing a small smile to cover your lips.

“You mentioned that art exhibit at the new gallery downtown a few days ago. I thought you might want to see?” he suggests gently.

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him still remembering that. “That sounds wonderful,” you say excitedly. “I would love to.”

“Yeah?” He smiles so sweetly that you reach out for him. He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek and searches your eyes carefully.

“Yes, darling,” you mirror his smile.

The two of you get ready in comfortable silence, side by side, occasionally sharing glances that hold soft smiles and unspoken words. As you step outside, hand in hand, the city greets you with the vibrant colors of an early evening. The sun, low in the sky, paints everything in hues of orange and gold.

The gallery is a modern space with stark white walls filled with vibrant art. You wander through the exhibits, Minho’s presence a steady warmth at your side. You’re busy looking at the different pieces, but his eyes can’t stop finding you. Once more, he notices how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, and how safe you always make him feel. A small smile settles on his lips as he watches you, following you around the rooms willingly. 

At one painting, a chaotic blend of dark and light, you pause longer than at the others. Minho beside you observes the play of emotions across your face. “What do you see?” he asks quietly, not asking about the painting but the meaning you give it.

Your eyes linger on the canvas, chewing your lip a little. “Struggle,” you say, your voice soft in the almost empty room. “But there’s beauty in it too. The colors clash, and still they harmonize…it’s almost like…,” you pause, not quite sure if you should continue.

“It’s like us,” Minho finishes for you, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns to look at you, his gaze filled with understanding. “Finding our beauty in the struggle. Finding some light in the darkness.”

You meet his gaze, your heart aching at the truth of his words. You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining naturally as if they were made to fit together. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Minho’s thumb strokes your hand gently, and his eyes soften. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he replies.

You continue your walk through the gallery, and once you step outside, the sky has turned into a velvety blue, and and stars begin to peek out. You decide to take a little detour on your way back home, walking through the park. The city sounds soften in the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter.

The park is lit by scattered lamps, casting their golden lights on the winding path. You walk slowly, comfortable in the peace you feel with him. At a bench by the duck pond, you sit down with him, gazing at the water that glitters beneath the moonlight.

The air is cool by now, a gentle breeze teasing your skin, making you shiver. Minho notices almost immediately, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm hug. You lean against him, head resting against his shoulder, and sigh happily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Minho confesses, voice laced with a warmth that reminds you he’s your home. “I missed just being with you without having to try and function. Just..us.”

You turn to look at him, eyes finding his in the dim light. “We don’t always have to be strong, do we? We can just be us, flaws and all.”

“No, we don’t always have to be strong,” Minho agrees, his hand gently cupping your face. As long as we’re together…that’s enough. That’s more than I could’ve ever asked for,” he whispers. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss before he squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get back home, hm?”

The walk back is quiet but comfortable. As you reach the doorstep, Minho stops, turning to you with a serious expression on his face. “Let’s make a promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “No matter what happens, we keep fighting together, we keep finding beauty in the chaos.”

You nod, face softening at the desperation in his eyes. “I promise.”

Minho leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss to seal your promise. It’s soft and sweet and holds the promise and gentle words of today. “Come on, honey. Let’s see if Channie’s home yet,” he says, and you nod happily.

Inside, the house is quiet, making the atmosphere feel almost too serene. As you shed your coats and shoes, Minho calls out gently, not wanting to startle Chan, who might be home. There's no response, and he leads you through to the kitchen, where a note on the counter catches your eye.

"Out with Felix and Binnie. Don't wait up. - Chan" reads the neatly penned message, Minho's lips turning up in a small, knowing smile. "Guess it's just us tonight," he comments.

You nod, missing Chan but also relishing the quiet intimacy that the evening promises with just the two of you. "What do you feel like for dinner?" you ask, turning towards the fridge.

Minho shrugs, watching you with an affectionate gaze. "Anything's fine, as long as I'm with you," he replies, his tone soft. 

Deciding on something light and easy, you opt to make a salad with all the fresh ingredients you have, adding grilled chicken for some warmth and substance. Minho sets the table, his movements relaxed, a playlist of soft music filling the background.

As you both sit down to eat, the conversation flows more freely than it has in weeks. Gradually, the dialogue drifts towards more personal topics, about how you've both been feeling and the little things you've missed about each other.

"It's been tough, hasn't it?" Minho says at one point, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "But nights like this... they remind me why it's worth it. Why we're worth it."

You reach across the table, your hand covering his. "It has been tough. But I wouldn't want to face it with anyone but you," you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

After dinner, you clear the dishes together, a routine that feels comforting in its normalcy. Minho washes, you dry, and there's a gentle efficiency to your movements, a dance you've performed countless times before, each step familiar and reassuring.

With the kitchen tidied up, Minho suggests a walk outside. The night air is still warm enough to be inviting. "Let's just walk around the block, a little night stroll," he proposes, and you agree readily.

Outside, the neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are dimmed for the evening, and their inhabitants are likely winding down much like yourselves. You walk hand in hand, your steps unhurried, the silence between you comfortable and easy.

At one point, Minho stops, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't say it enough, but I do. So very much."

"I love you too," you respond, leaning back to look into his eyes. “And you're right. Nights like tonight remind me of us, of what we have and what we're fighting for."

Returning home, you settle onto the sofa, Minho pulling a blanket over you both. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Let's not wait so long to do this again," you suggest, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Yeah," Minho says, his arm tightening around you. 

As you nod in agreement, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, you realize that the struggles and the chaos of the past weeks have not been in vain. They've brought you to this moment, safe in Minho’s arms.

-

Chan finds himself back earlier than he planned. After his evening out, he feels the pull of home - of you and Minho - stronger than the laughter and light of the city streets. As he approaches the house, his heart is a mix of nerves and hope. He unlocks the door quietly, half-expecting to find the house still echoing with the tension of previous weeks.

Instead, he steps into a soft-lit silence, low music playing in the living room where he finds you and Minho asleep on the sofa, intertwined under a shared blanket. The sight makes him stop in the doorway, a gentle smile spreading across his face as relief washes over him. Here, in this scene of peaceful slumber, he sees the healing that has begun between you. It almost feels as if you’ve never struggled.

Chan sets down his keys quietly and walks over, his movements gentle to avoid waking you. The intimacy of the moment - the way Minho's arm encircles your waist, how your head rests against his chest - is so sweet. It reminds him of the depth of love and commitment that binds you together, a stark contrast to the coldness that had crept into your interactions lately.

Chan reaches down, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is feather-light, a silent vow to himself to mend the threads of your relationship that he's held too loosely. The small action makes you stir, and your eyes flutter open, meeting his in a sleepy state.

"Channie," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. "You're back early."

He nods, his hand moving from your hair to gently squeeze your shoulder. "Couldn't stay away too long," he admits, his voice low and warm. "I missed home."

Minho stirs next to you, his eyes opening to Chan's familiar presence. "Hey," he greets, his voice rough with sleep "We were just waiting up for you," Minho teases lightly, though the crinkles by his eyes show his sincerity. He sits up, adjusting the blanket over you, ensuring you're still covered and warm.

Chan chuckles softly, the sound soothing the lingering edges of his earlier anxiety. "It looks like you did more sleeping than waiting," he observes gently.

"Join us," you say, patting the space beside you. 

As Chan settles beside you, the weight of the past weeks—the misunderstandings, fears, and pain—seems to lift slightly. Together, you sit in the soft glow of the room, the silence comfortable, filled only with the soft sounds of your synchronized breathing.

As the evening deepens into night, you all decide it's time to move from the sofa to the bed. Hand in hand, you help each other tidy up the living space before heading to the bedroom.

You all get comfortable in bed, Chan, in the middle this time, turns to face each of you, his eyes holding a soft light. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "For this. For us."

Minho reaches to squeeze his hand. “We love you, Channie.”

“I love you too,” he smiles happily.

-

Chan had suggested it: a quiet evening out, just the two of you. You agreed to the promise of a few hours solely with him, which sounded too good to pass. Chan suggested a small restaurant by the river, one that promised a breathtaking view.

Now that the evening is here, you feel nervous, a soft flutter in your stomach. It reminds you of the early days, the first few dates, and the awkward dance of not wanting to choose between Minho and him. You spend quite some time picking your outfit, wanting to feel beautiful and hoping to see the spark in Chan’s eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Chan is not one bit less nervous than you are, choosing a simple but elegant shirt he knows you like. When he sees you, ready and waiting, his breath catches in his throat. “You look so beautiful,” he manages, his voice rough with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze and the slow smile covering his lips make your heart beat faster, and your eyes water a little.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

“Thanks,” he smiles shyly, blushing a little.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, with music playing in the background. Chan parks near the river just as the sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the water with a golden glow.

Hand in hand, you walk to the cozy restaurant, which has soft lighting and a gentle, nonintrusive conversation. You choose a table near a window with a view of the river, now shimmering under the first touches of twilight.

You two fall into easy conversation as you eat, yet beneath the lightness of their conversation, deeper topics linger at the edges, waiting.  "Y/n," he begins, his voice serious but gentle. “I know things have been tough. I know I've been... distant. Not because I want to be, but because I've been scared - scared of doing the wrong thing, of saying the wrong thing."

"Chan, I understand. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, too, scared of pushing you away or making things harder for you,” you admit gently.

“I never meant to feel like you couldn’t come to me…or that Min is more important to me,” he tells you guiltily. 

“I know,” you reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “But we're here now, and that’s what matters. We can find our way back together.”

Chan’s smile returns, his eyes lighting up as if a weight has been lifted. “I’d like that. A lot.”

As dinner comes to an end, Chan suggests a walk along the river. The cool breeze from the water is refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore is soothing. 

“Look at the moon,” Chan points up, and you both stop to gaze at the full moon, casting a silver glow over the river. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world.

“It’s gorgeous,” you comment, leaning into him.

Chan wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, which makes you both chuckle.

The moment feels right, and you stop walking and turn to face him. “Chan, thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me. I’ve missed just being with you like this.”

He cups your face gently, his touch tender. “I’ve missed it, too—more than I realized. Let’s not let it go again, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and he leans in to kiss you softly and sweetly under the moonlight by the river.

On the drive home, the car is filled with comfortable silence. A song that you both love comes on the radio, and Chan reaches over to turn it up. You smile and start to sing along quietly. He joins in, and soon, you’re both laughing and singing at the top of your lungs.

Chan parks the car in front of your house and turns to you with a giddy smile. You smile softly, leaning over to cup his face. “My beautiful Channie angel,” you whisper, and he blushes a little. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiles shyly. “My sweet baby girl.”

Minho greets you with a gentle smile as you step inside. “Had fun, you two?” he asks gently, giggling surprised as you give him a long, soft kiss. “Hey, darling,” he whispers adoringly.

“Come cuddle with us?” you plead softly, making him laugh.

“Please?” Chan asks sweetly, kissing his cheek.

“Fine, fine,” he laughs. “Go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a bit,” he promises.

Not much later you’re all comfortable in bed. You’re in the middle, feeling safe between them. To your left, Minho’s warmth is a comforting pressure against your side, his arm thrown loosely over your waist. His fingers draw mindless patterns on the fabric of your nightshirt. Chan’s body is curved around yours protectively, his breath softly tickling your neck. Minho shifts a little, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes meet Chan’s in a silent agreement of how much they love you. 

“Comfortable?” Minho asks softly, barely above a whisper, as if he’s scared of speaking too loudly.

“Very,” you nod, agreeing. You turn your head slightly to smile at him, reaching to touch his cheek. Chan responds by tightening his embrace around you, his hand splaying across your stomach, grounding you.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the soft rustling of the sheets and the steady, rhythmic breathing of three hearts in sync. You find yourself tracing the lines of Chan’s hand after a while, feeling the strength and warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours. Minho, feeling a surge of affection, leans over to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, then Chan’s jaw. Chan smiles at the gesture, a small, happy sound escaping his lips. It feels perfect.

PART EIGHT | PART TEN (coming soon)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[adoregojo]

valentines - sae itoshi x reader

yayyyyy I finished it, im free :3 im so freaking sleepy rn warnings: angst, very happy ending the chap before: one

2017

it's been years since you last saw sae.

those 3 years without the elder itoshi felt unfilled, missing it familiar spark. visiting the sea doesn't feel the same without the reddish-brown boy alongside with you. his endless grumbles about how luck keeps running the opposite direction and it's always loss in the in of his road were now just a remains echoing inside your head.

it's not that his face wasn't rememberable anymore, in fact, his face was glued on every bug screen around japan. under the name of the japan prodigy himself. however his face was blurry and those big-screens always do him unjustifiably. pictures were good, but sae grew. oh how you wished you could have grew together again.

you missed his actual face, when he would reveal his rare unseen smile to you. even when he didn't smile, there was something there, your grandma always said that his eyes would go soft under the mention of your name. when actual emotions were still swirling in his heartland. now you looking at his face, his slime teal eyes were so..bleary.. sae looked like he lost all his colours.

you wished you could embrace him, just like you used to when you two were kids after he flunked his math test and the first thing he does is let you hug him and play with his hair, sae told you that he would never let someone else do that to him yet the word shameless was unfound beside you.

but now you were helpless. thinking about the great distance itself between you two was crushing.

you kept writing, and sae promised to write back. at least he did at first, within the next months his letters and calls were fading, draining each day, they were getting awfully dry to the point you felt he was just saying anything to make shut you down. but in the end he stopped completely. no matter how much you texted or called they were never answered.

yet you kept on writing, even when he didn't reply. you sent him birthday cards on his, remained him of yours as well. however he never responded. you write and send, write and send, write and send damn letters nonstop. at some stage you didn't know where to send them anymore. they were never replied to, never seen nor read.

soon your texts became green. and it felt like a door was slammed on your face.

you felt desperate, like a dog waiting for it owner returned. and you could feel the pity glimpses in everyone's faces, in school, neighbourhood, sometimes even your own grandma, except that she held more sympathy with it.

perhaps, the younger itoshi was the only one who didn't change much. just like you, sae stopped his communication with him as well. but he handled it way better than you did, the letters 'big brother will come back, he's just busy' fell out rin's mouth every time he senses you unhidden soreness.

you should believe in what he says, it's literally his brother. his own flesh and blood, his family. yet you didn't ease up under his words, if anything it worried you even more. you felt it, the wave screaming back at you that something bad will happen, something that'll change everything forever.

and you knew you were right when opened the door revealing rin with tears running down his reddened cheeks.

2018

rin never told you what happened that tragic snowy night.

all you could remember was him shedding tears like there was no tomorrow, they were silent yet so painful that you felt sorry for the boy. you always took rin as an unbending person, he was like sae but much more chill and dare you say more friendly?

you warped a blanket around him when he slept in the guest room, you never pressured him. never pushed him, thinking about it now, you should probably have. because you woke up to that bed soothed back all clean and empty the next morning.

and it felt like rin last strike of humanity was left dead under your roof.

rin changed, and everything changed with him. maybe you didn't, perhaps you grew doleful, dejected. waiting was hard, pouring down your soul. it felt like the sky was telling you that you were waiting for nothing, but to be truthful, not only the sky was implying that.

you saw how the younger itoshi would look at you when he saw you writing letters to sae. he said nothing and stood silent, yet his eyes were pleading with you to stop, to give up on his brother before he curses you for good. however, you were already cursed by sae a long time ago.

even when he left for that project, deep inside. he wanted to say something, to speak up. the words were on the tip of his tongue yet he kept on opening his mouth and closing it like a lost fish. then rin left without a word, leaving you to face the truth by yourself.

you found it strange when every time you were present in the tv room, the first thing your grandmother dose is close the tv or change the channel. it was weird, you never remembered her being a big fan of national animals shows. she always liked the news which was what she kept avoiding for a while for some reason. her protection wouldn't last forever.

a secret kept swimming around you, just walking around in the hallways was enough for everyone to either laugh or look at you with such pity. even the teachers? what was going on, what kind of secret could it be to impair you this much?

you wished to stay curious, to stay lost in your little circle of agony but not to witness the man that planted dead hopes within you was now cutting your roots of holden on faith.

you saw a picture of sae kissing another girl, and you felt your soul getting toured up by him.

like the world itself was laughing at you naiveness, how stupid you were. you felt used, the wasted years you spent waiting on someone who didn't even care felt like a pure burning betrayal. you got that light message, sae was basically telling you to get off his back, you were no longer needed.

you meant nothing that anyone could possibly overshadow you. you got tossed aside, a dusty memory that was never worth holding in the first place.

you stopped writing letters after that day.

2021

"nice having you back in japan, genius boy."

aiku laughed, but the man ahead of him didn't even spare a smile at him. instead he found the glass of drink in front of him more interested. the black head let out a sigh, he guessed that sae isn't exactly a man of change, he needs to stop letting his hopes up for nothing.

it's an understatement to say that aiku was surprised that the elder itoshi would even acknowledge his invitation for a night out at what he called a fancy bar. hell, sae probably didn't even like wine in the first place. yet he was here, looking around with his boredom eyes that never opened fully.

"soo, you finally opened your heart for your dear home?." aiku asked, taking a sip of his own drink. through the transparent glass, he could see the slim teal eyes peeking at him.

"what's up with that interview question? don't say you invited me for this." sae spat out, the place was awfully packed despite it being the middle of the night. and he would lie if he said he wanted to spend another second here.

"haha, once a stiff always a stiff. thought i would get a thank you for getting you out of your forlorn shell for awhile. i mean, look at those chicks, you sure you don't wanna catch yourself a little fun? heard you were left out on valentines eve."

the elder itoshi frown a brow, "you think you're my wingman or some shit? don't get too high of yourself just 'cause i went out here with you." scoffing, the reddish head crossed his arms.

before aiku could get a chance to reply, a sultry voice called. "you boys would like a refill?" the suffocating smell of her perfume was pocking sae's nose, which made him hard grimace in disgust. while on the other hand, the shaggy head threw a sly smile at him for some reason, he better not do anything stupid.

"not me, hun. but my friend over there would definitely like to. right, sae?" he should've knew better. he knew this fucker was trying to set him up with some, it didn't even need a rethink when his glass wasn't even half way empty.

sae could feel a vine running through his head when the high heels sound was lifted to his side. his personal space was getting tackled when the woman bend over with her breath that reeked of unhidden smoke and alcohol was tickling his ear.

"Oh? you must be a new one. we got specials for those." she breath out, her hand running down sae's arm. he had to stop himself from getting defensive at her sharp nails stabbing him through the fabric of his clothes. "you can request anything you please, even these lewd things going on your head."

her flirting was on death ears, he didn't even take a glimpse at her. nudging that man was like trying to punch a wall. sae told himself to ignore and she'll get the message and leave him alone already.

"c'mon now, whatever little sweetheart you clinging onto doesn't have to know."

and that hits a nerve, "anything you say? than I request you to step the fuck back you good for nothing tart creature." as soon as these harsh words come out, a loud gasp was heard. and sae couldn't find it in himself to stop the next words of coming out. "I came here for someone, not some harlot woman wiggling over me. go throw yourself on some pimp maybe you'll find a purpose inside their pants or something."

soon, it turns into a crying mess. and sae remains stiff. the only reaction he could give was sipping on his drink, he saw aiku trying to stop the women from running before stroking the bridge of his nose is disbelief.

"what the hell man.. you could've just told her to leave you alone."

"I don't like pushy people."

he hears a scoff, then aiku swaying after the other woman. sae could feel the eyes of strangers staring him down, not that he cares, not even about that woman who he sent crying, she can collect what's left from her dignity, if there was any in the first place. he was too busy rethinking why did he speak those words.

and why did was your face the first thing to pop up his mind when he said that.

it's been years, and he couldn't believe that he agreed to aiku's request, yet he'll never admit that he wanted any reason to step here again. any reason to see you again, he never thought he still had it in his heart to miss you. to be eager for you, he found himself bubbling with excitement like a little kid again.

sae can't figure why are you suddenly so heavy on his mind, was it the years of pushing you to the corner of his mind was paying off? even the tiniest things were enough to makeshift you in a way. it felt like he couldn't escape you, you were in everything and everyone. in the side planted flowers, in the little kids laughs, in the bright colours of the sun.

he wondered if you still think of him, if you still hold on him after seven years of being absent in every way possible. you turned eighteen without him, you probably had much more friends by now, maybe even changed your haircut, he remembers you rambling about how your grandma wouldn't let you change the same haircut for years now. sae himself doesn't notice the smile forming on his lips.

"wash that sappy face off, doesn't suit you." a firm voice stated, he didn't even have to turn around and see when he knew this tone like the back of his hand. lo and behold, his younger brother standing there.

"rin."

"shitty brother."

rin walked up to the table, his hands deep in his pockets. standing in such a filthy place made shift disgustingly. not even trying to hide his displeasure staring at both his brother and whoever walks by like a walking foul trash bags. or maybe that's just his natural face.

he didn't take the obvious abandon seat, instead he stood like he just needed a minute before taking his leave. "didn't expect you to be back, though you called this place unworthy of your presence." said rin, his eyes doesn't held them loathing anymore. but still a hint of unbearableness was there, that'll take some time to wash away.

"i have my reasons." he simply replied, he was never releasing his feelings.

"plus, what the hell are you doing here? and don't lie to me when you look like seconds away from throwing up." sae question,

"you need to get a assertive manager next time." rin shrugged, he wasn't planning on lying. the guy almost shat himself at the sight of rin alone. maybe he should work in his face expression.

"well, I know you aren't here for a heartwarming family reunion. so spit it out already." rude as ever, but the younger itoshi learned to not raise his hopes too much when it came to his brother.

rin doesn't reply to that, instead he reaches for his black coat pocket. lifting out some designed letter, leaned it carefully over the table for him to take. so sae does, playing around with the object, he sided eye his brother.

"a wedding invitation." rin answered before he could question.

"yours?" he asked in disbelief, that was not a face of a man getting married.

his younger brother started at him like he grew another head, "no?" he almost gagged, narrowing his eyes.

"then i have no interest in wasting my time."

"just read it you damn slacker." rin demand, he did not come all the way here for his older brother to act like a spoiled brat. he swore he's gonna shove that letter down his throat if don't stop yapping.

finally sae let out a dramatic sigh before opening the letter, whatever name it was, it better be worth it. and part of him wished he never opened it.

because his eyes uncontrollably traveled to your name, not even that he read the start nor the beginning. he wished it was a mistake, maybe someone else's name and it was all pure coincidence. his eyelids flicker open, he read it once, twice, and the world felt like it stopped.

"..it's in two days by the way.. and stop looking at the letter like that, your gonna burn it." rin words went from ear to ear. but sae managed to catch something in the lines 'in two days'

"two days?.. why am i getting an invitation now?" words came out mindlessly, he wanted to ask more, who, how and when. his mind was on track. sae never wished for something to be a sick joke like now.

"are you serious? be grateful you were even in the list." nevertheless, rin didn't like his question. is that really what he asked? not even about you? however, his brother colourless face spoke more.

sae didn't reply, he looked at the letter in his hand like it was his worst enemy. rin wished his brother wasn't a damn block headed maybe then he'll get his fingers on what's running inside his mind. so rin takes his leave, letting his brother handle the news by himself.

"woah, man. that girl just wouldn't stop crying. I'm starting to believe you're truly heartless." aiku let out breathlessly, but he was met of a new face of sae, it was the first time he say any other expression on his face. especially something..this emotional..

"dude, you okay? looks like you've seen a ghost."

maybe even someone as cold as sae could carry a fragile heart.

2021 February 18

it felt like the universe was laughing at him.

fate was truly the cruelest, out of any other day. it had to day, the day that was meant for you and him, just fir another guy to snatch his place like a piece of candy. he wished it was him, he wished he didn't come here in the first place. yet he was, surrounded with unfamiliar faces chit chatting around.

sae regrets stepping in here, he wanted to leave. to runaway. he doesn't want to face it, to face you walking down with another man that is not him. but he wanted to see you so bad, why did this feel like this is his only chance to see you ever again?

he felt aimless, and the people talking wasn't helping him either.

"did you hear? they're gonna rent a house on a beach!"

"oh my, they're so lucky. wished mine would have the same mindset."

fucking kill him.

"you actually came? thought you'd leave like the spineless coward you are." the voice of rin was merciless. and most of all brutally honest.

"shut up. I don't wanna hear it." sae waved him off, he didn't wanna hear it. especially his little brother berating him senselessly. deep down, he knew he deserved it. he was the one that stepped over your heart when he promised to take care of it. maybe he is a coward.

after he followed after rin, which took to long for his liking, he had to complain. "fuck you taking me to?" he spat out.

"be patient, don't you wanna talk to them?"

that somehow shuts down any chance of any other objection, it felt like ages before they got to the meant room. and for some reason, sae doesn't enter yet, he doesn't find the guts to.

"why did you even invite me to this?"

"me? invite you? you wish." rin jeered, his brother was definitely not in the right mindset to think such thing. "they invited you, if anything i thought it was better not to."

"I didn't even think you'd come, looks like you still got something in that frigid heart of yours. but it's already too late to come over your fears."

a ghost smile form on sae's face, at his own stupidity, at rin's truthful manner. at himself,

"i know that."

he closed the door behind, and slowly walked into the room. his steps were heavy they kept on echoing through the walls. announcing to the world what he was doing. it was a miracle he didn't fumble his feet on the way, and more of a miracle when he didn't faint at how beautifully you shone.

you quickly stood up, the white dress mimicking your movements. he was right, you did change your hairstyle after all, and oh, how you good you made it look.

"sae? you actually came.." you exclaimed. examining him from head to toe, he did change, more like he grew. he wasn't the same height as you anymore, his bangs were long gone. and he refused to meet your eyes. looking at everything but your gaze.

"yeah." he pushed out his lips.

it was strange, seeing the one he promised to marry get married to another one. his first crush, first crush, his first heartbreak, the first heart he shattered. all the memories of childhood came like a rush wave of air, and what lingered was your face at the airport, the day you said goodbye. the day he heard you sniffing behind him, yet he didn't turn.

perhaps because he knew out everyone, he would've gave up everything just to not see you a tear run down your face. or it would be him crying with and be a couple of crying mess. yes you got him warped your finger like that.

sae only knew a world with you, and he knew his soul stayed with you the day he left.

"it's been a while,"

"seven years, it's been seven years." the male corrected

"i know." you giggle bitterly. he knew you knew. you both knew but none spoke or mentioned anything.

"how have you been?" he had now idea of what to say or ask of you, that was your fucking weeding of course you're happy. damn, even his younger self wasn't that clueless.

"I'm good. you?"

I'm missing you terribly.

"good."

"that's good.." you shifted awkwardly, like you wanted to hide from him. was he making you that uncomfortable?

"can i?" stretching out his arms slightly, he was ready for you reject it, to punch him, to scream at him. but you nodded instead.

you lean right on his chest, his hesitate arm on the small of your back. when was the last he hugged someone? it was much easier when you two were kids. it sure felt warm, your cologne taking over his senses. he just didn't feel like fits the puzzle anymore. and it fucking hurt.

it didn't last long sadly, taking yourself out of his embrace. he doesn't want to let go, if he let go, you'll disappear. despite that he looked into your eyes, and suddenly he doesn't feel only half alive. you still got him warped around your finger like that.

"i need to go, it was nice seeing you again, sae."

he could only nodded, every step he took away from you felt like the world was draining it colors again, the universe was punishing him, because seeing you not sparing a glance back was truly painful.

the evening felt timeless, it skips to where he sat looking heedlessly at the ground. he didn't want to meant anyone's face nor attention. he bet that his was gloomy enough to scare off anyone who walks by.

one's begs to differ.

"well, well. if that ain't a face I haven't seen in a long time." an elderly woman said, the same old sly smile still glued to her face. she takes a seat beside sae, fearlessly nudging him to look at her.

"it's you."

"it's me, that old granny you used to call a hag." your grandma said.

"That was one time, and you spanked me for it."

"i sure did, always been a badass." she laughed, and sae found the invisible beam draw in it way to her face.

"look at you, you grew to a fine young man." he hissed when she pinched his cheek, almost as if she meant for it to hurt. he had rub the spot with a grunt.

"despite that, it's sad to say you disappointed me, itoshi sae." she spoke in a straightforward manner. almost like she was scolding him. and when say nothing she continues.

"I would've given you another spank but my grandchild would be mad, they still cares for you. always been." the lady sighed, "they never gave up on you, four years is a real challenge. every day they kept on writing to you, did you perhaps read them."

"every singer night."

"but you didn't respond to a single one?"

he doesn't replay to that.

"don't prove me wrong again. that girl you put your mouth on, why?"

sae's hand travel down his neck, trying to find the right answer. as if there was one. "i wanted them to give up on me. i just felt pushing them and everyone away was the right thing."

"so you became a selfish bastard that kills everything he touches? i knew you were dumb but not that dumb." she shook her head, he had concerned her swinging her cane over his head.

"it doesn't matter, it was already done." lies sliding down his throat. and he knew even a strong face wasn't enough to hide the truth. she could see him bare.

"maybe if you weren't that stupid, you'd have managed to keep the only person that could handle you. but I'm never wrong so i guess you two did end up together in another lifetime."

"but i wanted them in this one."

"too bad, too late." it felt like a sucker punch, he wished for her to actually beat him with that cane at least it'd be less hurtful and heavy. again the urge to leave was strong. and it was getting stronger when that man stood there, and when you walked he couldn't take his eyes off, he couldn't even blink. you never looked so breathtaking. and there he knew that his place didn't get stolen, but earned by someone else. someone better than him. someone that could make you happy and wouldn't make you hold on to a forsaken promise.

yesterday it was him proposing to you with his dead grandparents ring, today it was another one warping it around your finger. the image will hunt him to his death.

the him that promised, the him who kisses you injures, the him who saw you in sunset above the sea. was still there, that version was still swirling within him somehow. and it only shon with your light only. the light that will never be his anymore.

to sae you'll forever be his everlasting one in the stars.

"goodbye." he hopped he chose you in another life.

lmao this is trash mb yall

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae x reader #sae x you #itoshi sae x reader

[frankenkyle19]

Go Slow, Speedster

Peter Maximoff x reader smut

description: word count 1.1k (I hate this but I wanted to put something out for you guys) You teach Peter that going fast isn’t always how it should be done

No one but yourself would know how much of a whiney bitch Peter Maximoff was in bed. It almost seemed a bit over the top at times, but it was a 100% authentic reaction. He was a big baby, and a pillow princess. 

He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it when he wanted it. The only problem was sometimes he got carried away. Cared too much for his own pleasure and left you wanting. He didn’t do it on purpose of course, and always made sure to apologize, but in the moment he got so lost in his own pleasure that he really couldn’t think of anything else.

That’s why it was your job to teach him. Patience was a virtue after all, and little Peter would soon learn the pleasures of going slow. 

It had been another normal day. Well, as normal as your day could be when you were dating a mutant with superspeed. He had just finished a mission, something or another, he didn’t really care to share about his ‘job’ with you, because he found it boring. And because he found better ‘things’ to do with you.

That’s how you had ended up completely undressed with him on top of you in under a minute. Damned super speed. 

Now sure, you loved seeing him like this, but sometimes you liked it slow, and that was definitely not something Peter did a lot. In every aspect of his life he was unnaturally fast, so of course it was the same in the bedroom.

You tried to pry your lips away from his own for just a second as he whined, his cock hanging heavy between the two of you as he looked at you with those sweet puppy dog eyes of his. So tempting.

“Can I put it in? Please momma-“ you felt a shiver crawl up your spine at his words. He knew exactly how to get his way. But not today. Today you wouldn’t give in. 

He rutted against you impatiently, a thick trail of sticky pre-cum rubbed against your thigh. He huffed quietly as he awaited an answer. 

A smile crept onto your lips and Peter, bless him, mistook this as a good thing. It was a good thing, but not for him.

Before he knew it, you had completely taken control of the situation. To be fair… you were always in control of Peter. He was wrapped around your finger.

“Go ahead baby, fuck me-“ He wasted no time in positioning his leaky cock at your entrance.

“But-“ you stopped him, reaching down and running your thumb over the thick, red cockhead that sat at your entrance.

Peter mewled, bucking up against your hand as he cried out. 

“Momma-“

“Let me talk, Peter. Or you won’t get anything, okay baby boy?”

He bit his lip to keep quiet and nodded, eyes hazy and body buzzing with energy.

“You can fuck me, but, you’re going to go at my pace tonight.”

It could be worse for him. You could deny him the ability to fuck you at all. This shouldn’t be too bad, he could do this… Right?

He nodded once more, finally, finally getting to feel your tight heat envelop him. He instantly finds a pace that suits him, only to be stopped by you squeezing your thighs around his waist.

“Ah ah ah, slowwww, Mr. Quicksilver.”

He groaned softly. He always loved when you called him quicksilver and you never really knew why. Maybe he had some weird superhero fucking their fan fetish. Didn’t really matter to you, you didn’t mind calling him that so it was fine.

“Momma-“ he complained, hips still moving slowly in and out of you. So he was going to be stubborn. Well, that’s his own fault. 

“You want to be a good boy for me don’t you? Then go slow. Feels so good for me when you go slow. I know it feels good for you too.”

He swallowed down a whimper as he nodded, his hips meeting yours with gentle, slow thrusts. You could tell it was killing him by the way sweat formed on his brow and his whole body shook.

Your head fell back into the pillows as you let out a quiet sigh. It felt so good to have him go slow for once. He grazed those sensitive spots inside you perfectly like this.

Peter buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses there. He was doing better than you thought, until you felt drops of what felt like water on your neck.

 He was crying.

“Baby boy, hey- what’s wrong?”

“Wanna go fast momma- please- fuck I need it please I’ll be good next time just let me- please-“ he sniffled desperately, his cock quite literally vibrating inside of you.

This had been progress, so you couldn’t be too mad. Plus he had asked so nicely.

“Okay baby, just don’t go too fast.” You chuckled, already reaching to hold onto his shoulders. 

He could go fast. Like really fast. But despite how fast he could be, he never fully let himself go, because he never wanted to hurt you.

He held his head up as he got into a better position before he began to thrust back into you. His pace was absolutely brutal, and the sound of slick skin slapping against skin was absolutely sinful. 

His moans were even more so. He was so vocal you’d think he was in pain. Nope. Quite the opposite.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck-“ he cursed, hips now moving at almost inhuman speed against you, bed creaking as he fucked into you, his body blurred at the edges from how fast he was going.

You could tell he was close by the way the muscles in his neck began to pop out and get more prominent. Gasping, you clawed at his back as he hit a heavenly spot inside you. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

“Oh fuck Peter- quicksilver- just like that, right there, I’m close.” You choked out, holding onto him for dear life as he fucked you into the mattress.

Peter seemed to double down his efforts, determined to get you there before he fell over the edge himself.

It wasn’t long before your pleasure was building until it could no more. The band in your stomach snapped as waves of pleasure washed over you, sending you into a blurry, hazed euphoria.

Peter pulled out of you, stroking himself at inhuman speed, his hand flying across his cock so fast you could barely even see his movements. He came across your chest, doubling over in pleasure. His hand fell away from his cock as the last of his release dribbled from his tip. 

Maybe next time he’d learn that being slow could feel just as good. 

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