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#i stay over several nights a week at my friends
thevillainswhore · 4 months
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New Tricks
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Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 9.5k
Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead
What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 
Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.
Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky
Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne
Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗
These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️
New Tricks Masterlist
I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹
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Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 
“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  
Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 
The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 
Excellent, you inwardly sigh.
“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 
Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 
Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”
His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 
No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 
“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 
The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 
“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 
“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 
You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 
Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 
“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 
Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 
You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.
Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”
Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 
“What the shit–“ 
The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 
In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 
Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 
The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”
“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”
“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  
The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 
And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 
Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”
“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 
“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”
Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 
“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 
It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 
You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 
You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“
“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 
Had he been listening that whole time? 
Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”
Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 
The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”
“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”
His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  
With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  
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“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”
The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”
Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 
You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”
With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 
Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 
Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 
With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”
Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  
Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”
He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”
You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  
“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 
The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”
You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 
Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 
The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 
“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”
You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”
“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 
Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”
“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 
A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  
The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 
Though, it is short lived. 
Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 
A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 
“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 
You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 
“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”
A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 
His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 
“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”
The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 
Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 
You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”
The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 
Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.
“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”
“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  
Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 
This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 
Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 
“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 
“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”
“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 
“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.
The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.
“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.
Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  
That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 
“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 
You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 
“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 
The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 
Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 
Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”
“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 
You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”
Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 
Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  
Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”
“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 
He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 
“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  
“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”
His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”
Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 
There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 
Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  
Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 
“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”
“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”
“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”
A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”
“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 
Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 
His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 
Okay, you think privately, so what? 
Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 
If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”
“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”
Now that catches you off guard. 
Bucky… is a virgin? 
Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 
Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 
“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”
No other words come to mind. 
When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 
You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 
The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 
Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 
It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 
From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 
Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 
What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?
To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 
Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 
“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  
The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 
You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”
“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”
Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 
“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 
You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”
He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“
“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”
“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.
“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”
You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.
“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”
“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 
Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 
This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 
You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.
He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”
“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 
That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 
There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 
Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 
“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.
There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 
“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.
Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”
The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 
Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  
“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 
Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.
“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  
You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.
“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 
A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 
Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  
The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 
But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 
The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 
Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 
You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 
It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 
And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 
To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  
Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 
You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.
The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 
You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 
Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 
It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”
Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”
Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”
Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.
“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 
You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 
The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 
The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.
Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  
“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”
“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”
You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”
The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 
“Wha– Fuck!”
You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 
The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.
Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 
You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 
Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.
Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 
You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 
“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”
Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 
You can’t have that, though. 
Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”
Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 
It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 
You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 
Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 
“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  
You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 
The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”
Something snaps within him. 
The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 
To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”
A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 
“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”
“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 
“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 
“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”
The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 
The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”
Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 
After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”
“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 
Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”
“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.
The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”
Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”
“But–” Bucky tries. 
“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”
His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”
“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”
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The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 
It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”
You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 
And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 
You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.
“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 
You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 
“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 
“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”
But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”
“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 
That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 
You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”
Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 
With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”
The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 
“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”
“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”
You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”
The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”
A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 
“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 
That meant only one person was responsible. 
Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  
Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 
I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 
Love ya squirt, 
Your big bro.
“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.
P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 
Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 
“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”
Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 
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Part Two, Part Three
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moonchild1 · 4 months
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min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)
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she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨
a- angst s- smut f- fluff
series
stalemate by @shina913 f s a
↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."
oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a
↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?
little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk
↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it? 
sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk
↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...
after hours by @archivedkookie f s a
↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.
Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a
↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a
↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?
and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a
↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj
↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a
↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.
grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs
↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”
isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a
↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.
Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk
↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)
mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s
↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.
pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a
↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity
naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj
↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.
babydoll by @jungcock s a
↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.
eleven months by @bratkook f s a
↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.
pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a
↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.
darksided by @eoieopda f s a
↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.
three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs
↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 
one-shot
bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s
↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?  
breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s
↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”
Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a
↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.
threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj
 ↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.
under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a
↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?
mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj
↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.
the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a
↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
angel by @sailoryooons f s
↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences
a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f
↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}
last nite by @tayegi s a
↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan
zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a
↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie? 
heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a
↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.
heavy sugar by @kinktae s
↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.
all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s
↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?
calling the shots by @chans-room f
↬ College basketball captain Yoongi
until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a
↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.  When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.
whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a
↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.
shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s
↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.
you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a
↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ❞
spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a
↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.
all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a
↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.
now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a
↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?
stay by sugarwithtea f s a
↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.
when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f
↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...
egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj
↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.
on the court by @centerhaechan f
↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.
sugar by @zehakoo f s
↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.
from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a
↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.
the dark by @/bratkook s
↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?
Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs
↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.
fermata by @jeongi f s
↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.
private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s
↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…
first love by @geniuslab f s a
↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.
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↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library
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AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?
Some background about my cat first.
I (25F) have a pet cat named Max (not real name. It would be too identifiable if I used his real name). Max is a rescue. He had been abandoned by his previous owner because he would meow too loudly. This had happened several times, so he has been in and out of the shelter a lot. None of the previous owners had tried to figure out why he always meows so loudly, so I took him to a vet. It turns out that Max is deaf, so I don't blame him for meowing so loudly. He can't hear himself! He is scared of strangers and tends to hide, so I don't try to force him to come out if he doesn't want to. I also don't usually take pictures of him because the cameras and phones scare him. I just do what I can to respect his boundaries. Max isn't just a cat to me. He is my treasured family who brings a smile to my face everyday. I can't imagine life without him.
My friend, Amelia (22F) is trans. Her folks are transphobic and were not accepting of her when they found out. However, they had not kicked her out of her home right away. They had given her a week to pack her things and find a place to stay. I'm not sure what they were trying to do with that but another friend, Nina (24F) thinks that they did that as a manipulation tactic to get Amelia to retransition and Amelia thinks so too.
But the week had passed and Amelia couldn't find a place to stay. Nina had said she would have offered, but she lives in a small apartment that hardly had enough room for two people. So Amelia had asked out friend Ted (26M) who had also said he couldn't because he was housing his younger siblings since their parents had passed and he was struggling financially.
So that left me. But Amelia said she wouldn't be able to stay unless I got rid of Max. Why? Amelia is highly allergic to cats. Whenever she had come over to my place in the past, she had to take allergy medicine to keep from having severe allergies around Max. The allergies are bad enough that they could trigger an asthmatic attack. I told her that I refuse to get rid of Max because of his past with being abandoned. I do not want to become one of the people he distrusts, not after it took so long to get him to feel comfortable around me.
Amelia is upset with me for this and says that she doesn't want to have to always take allergy medicine. She said that I should get rid of Max because he is just a cat and his needs are not as important as hers when she could become homeless soon. I argued that he wasn't just a cat and was part of my family. Max would be staying no matter what. Amelia ended up renting a motel room, but she couldn't afford to stay for more than 4 nights. Nina ended up taking her in, but that has made her own living situation harder.
Amelia and Nina are calling me an asshole for choosing Max over giving Amelia shelter. They are saying that I am being a horrible ally and friend by valuing an animal over a human life. I don't think I made the wrong choice by choosing Max, but it doesn't feel great that they are starting to tell some other friends that I am being transphobic for not choosing Amelia. A part of me is saying that I should have chosen Amelia, but that same part is also saying I would fee guilty for being one of the people to also abandon Max if I chose to do that. Amelia and Nina barely talk to me aside from saying that I am being a transphobic asshole for "choosing an animal over a trans person's livelihood." I am thinking about just cutting them off now, but I'm afraid that would just lead to more backlash.
AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?
What are these acronyms?
1K notes · View notes
queers-gambit · 2 months
Text
Lost and Found
prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.
pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Saltburn
word count: 3.6k+
note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!
warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.
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"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.
How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!
You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.
But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.
At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.
And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.
So, that helped.
But you still felt so fucking silly.
Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!
Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!
"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!
Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.
However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.
Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.
"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"
Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.
"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."
He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"
You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."
"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"
You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "
"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."
You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."
"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"
You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"
"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."
"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."
"Then why haven't you left yet?"
You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"
"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"
"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."
"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"
"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."
"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"
"I've medicine t'take - "
"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"
"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.
"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"
"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"
He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."
"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"
He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"
You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "
"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."
You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"
He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"
"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"
He tisked, "C'mon, doll."
"Be honest, Felix."
His head cocked, "Want the truth?"
"That'd be a nice change of pace."
He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.
"And what reasons are those, Fi?"
He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."
You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"
"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."
You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"
"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"
You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.
You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"
"Hmm? Yeah - "
"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"
"Huh?"
He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.
"Oh, uh, socks, please."
He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.
You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."
"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."
"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."
"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"
"Is it working?"
"I'll let you know."
Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."
"Sure?"
"Why?"
"Hands are shakin' a bit."
You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."
"Nah, just not cold."
"Your nipples say otherwise."
"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"
"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "
"You could just stay here," he offered softly.
"You got me for a game - "
"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "
"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."
"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"
"Yeah, and?"
"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"
"Oh, aren't you my hero?"
"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.
"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."
He grinned, "Yeah?"
"If it's not too scandalous?"
"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."
"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.
"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."
"I was just caught off guard!"
"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."
"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"
"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"
"I was - "
"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."
"Is that so?"
He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."
"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.
"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."
"Hm, always knew you were a slut."
He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."
"You're a fucking fiend."
"And you're so fucking beautiful."
"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."
He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."
Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."
He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.
"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."
"Why?"
"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."
"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."
"So, what do we do?"
"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"
"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"
"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.
"We doin' this?"
"That's up to you."
"I think it's up to us, actually - "
"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."
"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"
"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.
"Wanna be my girl?"
"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."
He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"
"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "
"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."
"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"
"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.
"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"
"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"
"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.
Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.
How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.
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roosterforme · 4 months
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Don't Waste Another Minute | Rooster x Reader
Summary: When you finally recognize that you have been hanging onto your relationship for all the wrong reasons, you end things. You knew there would be someone better for you, and it was a welcome realization to see that he had been right there in front of you the whole time. 
Warnings: Fluff, angst, asshole Jake, drunk Jake, reader dumps Jake, crude language, alcohol, swears
Length: 4100 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32
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As soon as you told Jake that you thought he'd had enough to drink for one night, he called you a bitch for the fifth time. It was mortifying. Because this time your boyfriend said it in front of his friends instead of just quietly whispering, "I'm gonna need you to stop acting like a bitch."
The area around the pool table went quiet, and it took everything inside you to keep your head held high. His friends weren't the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of angry, drunk Jake. You were. They weren't constantly getting yelled at for hiding his keys when he couldn't walk straight. And they weren't driving around in a car that still smelled horrendous weeks after he threw up a bottle of Jack Daniels next to the center console. You were. 
Your lips were shaking as you met his glassy, green eyes. And then Bradley Bradshaw stepped forward and put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "That's not cool, Hangman," he said, his voice deep and angry. He set down the bottle of beer he had been nursing and met your eyes with chocolate brown ones that somehow made you feel a little more grounded. Then he added, "I think you should apologize to your girl."
Just as Jake scoffed, you returned your attention fully to him. You pressed your lips together until you were sure you could speak without making a fool out of yourself. "No. I'm not his girl. It's been a long time since that was something I wanted to be. I can't do this anymore, Jake." 
As you dug his car keys out of your pocket, he slurred, "I should have dumped you months ago. You don't even know how to have fun. You're just a stuck up bitch."
You tried your best to ignore him as you handed his keys to Javy and softly asked, "Can you make sure he gets back to his place safely?"
"I will," he promised, nodding at you. Then you glanced around the group of aviators you had become fond of over the past several months since Jake first brought you here. You were going to miss them, especially Bradley and the soft smiles he always gave you. And the way he just stood up for you. 
But right now his handsome face looked stony as he shook his head at Jake. You ran your hand along Bradley's arm and tried your best to smile at him as you left the group and started to dig your phone out of your pocket. "Bye," you whispered to nobody in particular. You'd get an Uber and go back to your place and snuggle up in bed, and you'd be fine. You knew you would. 
As you headed for the door, you heard Bradley angrily say, "I wish you would have had the balls to dump her months ago. She's too good for you."
That made you smile as you pushed the door open and let the cool night air and the sound of the ocean wipe your senses clean. If you were being honest with yourself, you probably only stayed with Jake for as long as you had because you were afraid he was going to hurt himself or someone else one of these Saturday nights. The sting of embarrassment was worse right now than the pain of breaking things off with him, and that fact let you know you did the right thing.
You shivered as you looked up at the moon and the smattering of stars that were visible this close to the city. And then a massive body slammed into you, which you realized was probably your fault for standing so close to the exit. 
"Shit!" grunted a deep voice.
"I'm sorry-" you started as a big arm wrapped around you, steadying you.
"It's you," Bradley said when you looked up at him over your shoulder. "You're still here."
"Yeah... it's just me." You sounded a little breathless. You noticed you felt safer after ten seconds with his arm wrapped around you than you ever had when you were with Jake.
Bradley cleared his throat and slowly released you. "I just wanted to see if you needed a ride home. You know, since you left Jake's keys with Javy."
You turned to face him fully and took one big hand in yours before anyone else could exit the bar and slam into both of you. With wide eyes, he followed you willingly as you walked backwards toward the railing. "I'm fine," you assure him, letting go of his warm hand with an embarrassed shrug. "I'll get an Uber and have someone who didn't just witness my ex boyfriend call me a bitch before I dumped him take me home."
"He should have never said that," Bradley rasped, eyes fixed on your face. "He overdoes it on the weekends, and I'm sure he doesn't actually think you're a... well, you know. You're sweet. Everyone knows that."
You smiled softly up at him. "Thanks," you whispered. You let yourself indulge in committing to memory the way Bradley Bradshaw just said you're sweet. Because it made you feel warm inside. Then you entered your passcode and opened your Uber app, but before you could do anything else, he took your phone out of your hand. 
"Let me take you home," he said as you reached for your phone. But he tucked it behind his back. "That way I'll know you get there safely."
You reached your arms around him but he took both of your hands in his as your chest brushed the front of his shirt. "Did you put it in your back pocket?" you asked as you cocked your head to the side, only pretending to be annoyed. 
"Maybe," he replied with a grin as he squeezed your hands. "But you won't need it until I drop you at your place anyway."
You studied his face. The orange flicker of light from the lamppost in the parking lot bathed him in softness as he waited for you to respond. The only time you ever saw Bradley get drunk was on his birthday when Natasha drove him home. But he'd been funny, never crass. He'd even carried you from the jukebox over to the piano when he insisted he could do a better rendition of Changes than David Bowie. You smiled at the memory, and then he was smiling back at you.
"You just had that one beer tonight?" you asked softly, already knowing the answer. You supposed he drew your gaze more frequently than you were ready to admit. Especially in the past month or so. 
"Yeah," he replied immediately. "That's all I usually have."
"I know."
There was a beat of silence between the two of you. Your words felt like an admission, and you wanted to know how he'd respond. He laced his fingers with yours and said, "I'd never do anything to put you in danger. Been drinking just one beer on Saturday nights in case you were too far gone to get Jake and yourself home safely."
Now you weren't sure what to say. He'd been silently paying attention to you this whole time, too. No wonder you felt safe around him. "Okay," you whispered, and Bradley very hesitantly released your right hand. But you stayed close to his side, your left hand still held tight in his, and he started to head toward his Bronco.
Silently he unlocked the passenger side door and helped you climb in. "Thanks," you muttered, but then he removed his hand from yours, and you suddenly shivered as he closed the door. You thought of your apartment briefly, wondering if Jake's hoodie was hanging in your closet and thinking you'd just throw away the framed photo of the two of you in Venice Beach. It didn't really hurt to think about it, but you didn't feel the need to mourn over it either.
Then you realized Bradley had already turned right out of the parking lot and then made the first left. "You don't need directions?" you asked him as he went straight through the green light. 
He laughed softly but kept his eyes on the road. "I remember where you live. I picked the two of you up there once."
You remembered it, too. He had opened the door for you and helped you into the Bronco that night as well. He had been wearing the same shirt he had on now. And he smiled at you the same way. 
But you were still surprised he knew which street to turn down and which building was yours. "You can park in one of the visitor spots," you told him as your heart swelled with nervous excitement when he shifted into park.
Bradley paused with his hand on the key in the ignition and turned to look at you. "Will you let me walk you up?" When you nodded without hesitation, he killed the engine and smiled at you. And a few seconds later, your fingers were laced with his again. And you were climbing the stairs up to your apartment door. 
"Thanks, Bradley," you murmured, glancing up at him, unsure how to ask when you might possibly see him again after this. You didn't have his phone number, and you had no real reason to keep going back to the Hard Deck, but you wanted to see him again.
And then you felt a little embarrassed by it all. Sure, he remembered where you lived and he had been looking out for you. But you just broke up with Jake earlier tonight, even though things felt like they had been over for a lot longer. And you didn't want to rebound with his coworker of all people, especially since Bradley had you feeling like you wanted him to wrap you in his arms and make you feel safe all the time. 
And now you'd been standing in front of your door for long enough that it was about to become awkward unless one of you said something. But you were afraid the words on the tip of your tongue would be enough to shatter the moment if you said them. 
Your eyes caught on the scars on Bradley's neck as he swallowed hard. "Anytime you need a ride or... anything, I'll be around," he said with one of those soft smiles. But when he went to remove his hand from yours, you wouldn't let him. And then that smile slipped as he took a step closer to you. 
You decided to say the words and shatter the moment, because you had nothing to lose. "Do you want to come in for a little while?" you asked, and Bradley was nodding immediately.
You didn't expect him to keep his hand in yours as you closed and locked the door and showed him around the small space. You'd spent time with Jake in all of these rooms, but as you listened to the deep rumble of Bradley's voice and his soft laughter, you knew you'd sooner recall these memories once he was gone. But you didn't want him to leave at all, even though it was almost midnight. 
"Do you want a glass of water?" you asked him.
"Sure," he replied so quickly, both of you laughed. And then he commented on the books you'd left out on your table while he drank his water very slowly.
"I have more of the books from that series in my room."
"Oh yeah?" he asked, still hovering close by. "I only read the first two."
You simply took him by the hand again, and he went along with you, leaving the glass of water behind. When you paused in your bedroom doorway and reached in to turn on the light, you laughed and said, "You still have my phone in your pocket."
"I know," he replied, his gaze dipping down toward the floor as he blushed. "I've been holding it captive, trying to figure out a way to ask you for your number."
"Really?" you asked, stepping closer and coaxing his gaze up to yours. 
He nodded as he squeezed your hand again. "Feels like some sort of violation of guy code if I ask for it the same night you broke up with Jake. But I really don't want to leave here until I shoot my shot."
You gasped. Bradley Bradshaw. Wanted to shoot his shot. With you. "Shoot it," you said so softly, you weren't sure if he even heard you. But then his eyes went a little wide, and that smile you liked so much was back. 
"Alright." He cleared his throat and chuckled, cheeks still pink as he said, "Hey, so, here's the thing. I've actually had a massive crush on you for months. And I'd love to get your phone number. And I realize that you just got out of a relationship, so I don't mind waiting a few weeks to use it."
You were still holding hands as you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then his free arm wrapped around your waist. You kissed the edge of his mustache, and his fingers flexed against your back. "You can have my number, Bradley."
He sucked in a deep breath as you kissed his cheek again. "Okay. Cool. That's good. And uh... how long do you think I should wait before I call you?" he asked, and you couldn't tell if he sounded more nervous or more excited. 
"You could call me tomorrow," you whispered, still amazed at how safe you felt around him. "Or you could stay a little longer. Maybe we can start the third book in the series? If you want to."
"I want to," he said softly and immediately. "I want to do both. Call you tomorrow and stay a little longer."
When you tugged him toward the bookshelf next to your bed, he followed, his eyes on you as you reached for the third book. You toed your shoes off and kicked them aside as you asked, "You coming?" Then you crawled across your bed, leaving room for Bradley. 
He only hesitated for a second before he yanked both shoes off and placed them near yours. Then the sight of him easing himself onto your bed and slowly settling back against the headboard next to you left you aching to put your lips on his face again. He was giving you that same warm smile he always did, and now you realized you'd been craving these glances in your direction for a long time. You'd been seeking out his smile at the bar and at barbeques and on beach days. 
He cleared his throat a little nervously, probably because you were staring at him now. "Do you want me to read it out loud?" he asked, his voice so raspy, it set off goosebumps along your arms. You replied by setting the book on his lap and scooting a little closer, because you wanted to shoot your shot, too.
"In a minute." You brought your hand up to his face and brushed his stubbled, rosy cheek with your fingers before you kissed his lips. And it was just that simple. A soft press of your lips against his, and you were in the midst of the best kiss of your life. Not necessarily the needy kind where you wanted to tear his clothes off, but the kind where you were aware of every nerve ending in your body. But you already knew, if you let them, your feelings for Bradley would escalate into more.
With your forehead resting on his and your lips hovering over his mustache, you smiled and said, "Okay, now you can read the book."
He laughed softly and kissed you one more time before you eased yourself away from him. Then you curled up against his side, and he brought his arm around you as you helped him hold the book open. Nothing could have prepared you for listening to the words of your favorite story read in his voice. You barely moved, your lips pressed together as his steady, deep voice and his warm scent had you slowly melting. 
Bradley read and turned the pages one handed, your cheek on his shoulder and your arm creeping around his midsection. You had no idea how much time had passed when he whispered, "Do you want me to stop?"
You didn't. It had been forever since you felt like this. Comfortable and safe. Maybe you'd never felt this way before. Like you were absolutely certain this man wouldn't hurt you. Like you were sure he'd never call you a bitch in front of his friends or in private. But you didn't know if it was okay to keep holding onto him. 
"You can take the book home with you," you told him as you sat up slightly. But he made no move to get out of your bed, and you didn't ask him to. So you just settled right back where you were, and you felt Bradley's lips brush along your hair as you fell asleep. 
-------------------------
Loud, angry pounding noises did not belong here right now. No, Bradley was enjoying sleeping on a soft cloud with his dream girl snuggled up next to him. Everything was warm and perfect and smelled nice. Why was there still pounding? He cracked his eyes open to find you starting to stir next to him. You stretched and made a cute little noise as your chest bumped his ribs, and then your eyes opened wide.
"Oh," you gasped, quickly pulling your arm away from where it had been thrown over his midsection. "Bradley." Your voice was a combination of surprise, disbelief and pleasure, and he wanted to make sure you were okay with the impromptu sleepover, but there was still someone pounding on your front door.
He cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy from sleep as he said, "You want me to go yell at whoever that is?"
"No," you replied as you climbed on top of him and kissed his lips. Bradley wanted to put his hands everywhere on you, but he kept them at his sides, still unsure about what he was allowed to do right now. "I'll be right back. You stay here."
Then you were out of bed and across the room, glancing back with a smile before you vanished through the door. Bradley's heart was pounding as he let his head sink back against your pillow. Okay, he needed to play this cool. He couldn't fuck this up. He'd been waiting months for you to realize Jake wasn't good enough for you, and he'd been spending months trying to make sure he would be, given the opportunity.
Your phone was still in his back pocket along with his, and he pulled them out to check the time. But when he looked at your lock screen, he saw that you had seventeen missed texts from Jake. And now he thought he heard Jake's voice in your living room. 
Bradley was out of bed instantly when he heard you ask, "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I came to apologize, but it looks like you should be the one apologizing to me." That was definitely Jake's voice, and he was definitely pissed off. 
"I don't know what you mean, Jake," you said as Bradley walked slowly down your hallway. He shoved both phones in his pocket and kept himself out of sight. "If you want to apologize for constantly calling me a bitch, then go ahead. Otherwise, just leave."
Jake laughed in a way that made Bradley's hands clench into fists. "You got a lot of nerve talking to me like you think I'm stupid. I saw his Bronco outside. I know he's here." Bradley squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, and then Jake loudly said, "I knew you were a bitch. How long you been fucking Bradshaw?"
"I'm not," you insisted, your voice shaking. And as much as Bradley had loved reading your book to you and snuggling in your bed all night, now he wished he hadn't stayed. Because you didn't deserve this. 
"You really expect me to believe that?" Jake asked you maliciously. "Where is he, you fucking slut?"
"Don't you dare call her that," Bradley practically growled as he stormed into the living room. Jake was standing too close to you, and he didn't like that. But you were standing your ground as you turned to look at Bradley with some tears shimmering in your eyes. "I never touched her, and she never touched me. So just apologize or leave."
"Fuck you, Bradshaw," Jake spat. "I don't have to listen to a single fucking think you say."
"Get out of my apartment," you demanded. "I dumped you last night for a reason: you drink too much, and you're mean to me. And it was a long time coming. Just go."
Bradley could sense Jake's hesitation, so he took a few steps closer until he was standing right behind you. He made eye contact with him, just daring him to try something. Because Bradley wasn't in the mood to listen to him saying nasty shit about you, especially not when Jake interrupted the start of something so perfect. 
"Go," you repeated. Jake looked you up and down from head to toe and shook his head before he finally turned and slammed your front door behind him. 
"Are you okay?" Bradley asked softly, wishing he knew if it was okay to touch you. 
"Yeah," you whispered before turning and throwing your arms around his neck. 
Bradley let his hands settle on your waist as you looked up at him with bright eyes. He didn't feel bad about stepping on Jake's toes any longer. "I'm sorry if I made things worse for you by being here. But I can't really bring myself to apologize for falling asleep with you, because I liked it so much."
You laughed. It was the prettiest sound. And then you kissed him again with more heat this time, and Bradley had to convince himself to do this the right way. "Hey," he whispered as he broke the kiss. "I still need your phone number."
"Okay," you replied, and you whispered it to him as he entered it into his phone contacts. 
"Okay," he echoed as he handed your phone over for the first time since he took it from you outside the Hard Deck. You didn't even flinch as you swiped away the texts from Jake. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You ready?"
"I'm ready," you told him with a hesitant smile.
He kissed you one more time before he started to back away toward your front door. "I'm gonna go, but I'll call you."
"You better," you replied, and your smile was a little more sure now. 
"I will," he promised. "Just wait." Then he opened the door and closed it behind him as he tapped your name on his phone screen. 
You answered immediately, a giggle in your voice. "Hi, Bradley."
"Hey, so you know how you said I could call you today?"
"Yes," you replied, clearly smiling. "I do recall saying that."
"Great. So I was thinking I'd head home quick to get changed, and then I could come pick you up? Maybe we could get breakfast burritos and coffee from Lucy's Takeout? Go sit on the beach with the book?"
There was a beat of silence before you said, "That sounds nice."
"Then it's a date."
Bradley was all smiles as he ended the call and knocked on your door. When you opened it a second later, he leaned in and kissed you. "I actually need my shoes," he murmured against your lips, and you started laughing. 
"Wait here," you told him before you dashed toward your room and then returned holding his shoes and the book. Bradley slipped his shoes on and took the book in one hand as he pulled you close with the other.
"I'll be right back. Like seriously, it'll be embarrassing how quickly I get back here."
You buried your face against his chest and whispered, "It'll be embarrassing how much that makes me smile."
He had to force himself to leave after that, because the sooner he got back to you, the sooner he could start making you his.
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Just imagine Bradley reading a book to you on the beach while also feeding you breakfast. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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evie-sturns · 7 days
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no one has to know what we do - Chris Sturniolo
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summary: ever since you met the triplets in 3rd grade, youve had been closest with chris. you've never admitted it to anyone but you've been madly inlove with him for a few years now. the triplets 20th birthday comes around, they celebrate by inviting the friend group to their house for the weekend, what happens when you and chris are left alone in his bedroom, will things stay the same, or will you two be forced to sneak around.
contains: smut, fwb!chris, sneaking around friends, swearing, fluff.
------------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐-----------———-
♫.. no one has to know what we do, his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room..♫
I've known the triplets since i could walk, marylou and my mom met in highschool so i've grown up around the nick matt and chris my whole life. ive always been closest with chirs,
but i hate to admit the fact that i've been thinking about him differently, a lot differently. i've never though about matt in that way though, even though they're practically the same. it's something about chris's hair, i've always wondered how my fingers would feel laced through his brown locks while he rests between my thighs.
6:39pm, friday night.
i push open the sturniolos front door to find nick, chris, matt, madi, nate, and several other friends from highschool, hannah, grace and yolanda, leaning on the counter, all laughing with eachother.
''hey!!" chris says with a wide grin, running up to me and wrapping his arms around me. "chrisss" i smile back at him.
this weekend is the sturniolos birthday, they've invited madi, me, nathan, and 3 other friends round for friday night, saturday and sunday, for those three nights chris and i are sharing a room, alone.
he grabs my small tote brag i brought and chucks it into the spare room. i walk into the kitchen and greet everyone else, instantly getting dragged by nick into the living room.
"we're watching the grinch." madi declares, "fuck no! its the middle of fucking august" nick yells back, nate chimes in, adding something to the debate.
before i can open my mouth i feel a cold hand grab my arm, its chris.
my head swings around, my hair hitting his neck. "c'mon" chris says, taking me over to the couch and throwing himself down and patting the spot next to him. i flop next to him, cuddling close to his side as everybody else piles down, "so we're watching the grinch?" madi says with a cheeky smile, "no." nick instantly replies, switching the tv on.
the intro song to rapunzel blasts through the small room, a loud cheer comes from the 7 other people around chris and i.
i'm basically frozen, my mouth won't move and i can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. sure, chris and i have been friends forever but god hes been so physical the past few weeks its been hard to hold myself together.
"you okay?" chris whispers down into my hair.
"yeah!" i chirp back
"you seem nervous"
"im not."
im 90% sure he knows.
"im sorry this movie is ASS." nate says, interrupting the movie. "gotta say, i do kinda agree with you." madi replies, "i told you the grinch was better!" she says, earning a boo from nick.
nick leans over to me, "go get a boardgame from chris's room cause these fuck heads aren't happy with rapunzel." he tutts.
i heave myself up off the couch, "chris where do you keep your array of boardgames" i scoff, shaking my head with a smile. "first of all i dont have 50 boardgames i play" he laughs as he walks over to me.
i walk upstairs towards chris's room, him closley behind me still yapping about the fact hes not that big of a fan of board games.
i open the large wooden door to chris's room, the familiar sight filling my vision.
chris shuts the door behind us, i don't question it, he probably just wants to keep his room air conditioned. i look back at him,
"so where are the-" i start but get interrupted by chris's hand on my jaw, he looks at my lips then my eyes, then my lips before slamming his onto mine.
i kiss him back. of course i do? i've practically dreamt about this moment since i was 16.
"i know i make you nervous y/n" he rasps into my lips, his second hand grabbing my cheek as he walks us back, our lips still connected as my back hits the wall, pinning me down slightly with his mouth.
he pulls away for a second, scanning my face for a readable expression. "chris" i breathe out, running my hand through my hair.
"im sorry, im so fucking sorry i shouldnt've done that-" he starts, taking a step back, "chris." i interrupt him, reconnecting our lips.
"you make me nervous, really fucking nervous." i say into his lips, his hand finds its way to the back of my head, his fingers intertwined in my hair.
suddenly the door to his bedroom rattles, i instantly pull away, my head spinning round to look at the door which is being pushed open/
madi, matt, nick and 3 of our other friends walk in, all laughing with each other about god knows what, i scramble towards the closet, looking for any board game i can.
i pull out the despicable me version of 'game of life' which has several minions on the front. a small laugh exits my mouth before i join the small circle which has formed on the floor with our friends.
"y/n...." matt says with a laugh, grabbing the board game off me "despicable me?" hannah says with a scoff
"im sorry! chris doesn't have the collection of board games i expected!" i tease back.
"it'll be okay!" grace says, a somewhat optimistic smile painted across her face.
chris joins the circle of friends on the floor, sitting down opposite me. hes got a small panicked expression, his lips red and raw, his cheeks a deep pink. his eyes are fixed on mine.
"so whos gonna roll first?" nick chuckles.
(8:45pm)
madi won the boardgame about 30 minutes ago, i've been laying on the floor of chris's room with all of our friends, execept for chris.
he disappeared while everyone was celebratings madis 'epic' win.
"we've gotta play truth or dare.." yolanda says, "like the corny middle school shit you know?"
nick claps his hands with a goofy grin, followed by matt rolling his eyes but later agreeing.
"nick, truth or dare" grace laughs,
i stand up off the floor, walking out of chris's room while everyones distracted watching nick try to do a head stand.
the wooden stairs creak as i jog down them, i swing open the back door and im met with chris. he's sitting on the outdoor bench, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.
his head shoots up to look at me as i walk over to the bench, sitting under it.
"hey!" he says smiling, then putting his phone down on the armrest.
"how was despicable me game of life?" chris nudges me in the arm, a stupid smile on his pink lips.
"shut up!" i scoff, flicking his arm softly.
a silence fills the air, only sounds of distant cars vaguely humming in the background. chris runs a hand through his brunette hair, his long fingers peeking through the strands of his hair.
"um-" chris clears his throat.
"chris.." i whisper i start, then get off by his voice
"i dont think i'm ready for a relationship."
my heart sinks.
i didnt even say i liked him like that to his face?
"come with me." he declares, standing up abruptly grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.
everyone's hanging out in the living room, nobodys really paying attention to rapunzel anymore. nicks head shoots up "y/n come over!!" he smiles at me.
"we're gonna go get ready for bed, super tired." chris speaks for me. i run over to nick, giving him and matt a goodnight hug before returning to chris. he grabs my hand firmly then pulls me upstairs into his room, slamming the door shut behind us
my heart thumps as chris looks down at me, his hand reaches out for my chin, his other hand firmly gripping my waist as his fingertips lightly squeeze my waist. i stare at his lips, he stares at mine before colliding them for the second time today.
without another word his shirt is across the room, his necklace resting on his chest. my shirt follows, ending up somewhere around the room. "chris" i moan lightly into his lips as his hand snakes round to my back, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor.
he frantically rips off his sweatpants, i shimmy my shorts down my legs.
the air surrounding us grows hot as i fall back onto his bed, "chris- we can't, nick always tells me that he'd kill me if i even though about his brothers sexually, i mean-" i ramble, but chris cuts me off.
"no one has to know what we do." he whispers, his hands intertwined in my hair.
my eyes switch from chris, to the amount of our clothes scattered across his room, the same room chris and i grew up in.
i nod "okay." a smile creeps across my face.
chris pulls off my panties, throwing them ontop of his desk. he pauses for a second, his eyes exploring every inch of my body. "oh my god." he mutters, "you okay?" he asks quickly while he pulls down his boxers, his hard length springing out. his dick is strangely perfect, "yeah, more than okay.." i whisper, my eyes fixed on his cock.
he nods "you've done.. this before right?" chris laughs slightly. "yeah- yeah" i giggle. "you're so pretty." he says, stroking his length while his eyes stare at my exposed body.
"ready?" he asks, his tip lightly pressing against my hole.
i'm not even fully processing whats happening right now, the boy i've secretly been practically inlove with for a few years is now about to fuck me.
"very." i tease, gripping the sheets for support. he pushes into me, a low whimper escaping his mouth "squeezing me so well." he stutters, bottoming out in me.
i let out a string of moans as i arch my back off the bed "so good, doing so good." he says, his thrusts rapidly increasing in pace and intensity. his fingers lace into my hair, tugging lightly but not painfully.
i let out a desperate groan "chris- fuck!"
he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach, feeling how deep he is inside of me. "you feel me?" he says in between thrusts.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my vision fogged.
"i said you feel me?" he mumbles, his hair flopping with each time his tip hits my cervix.
"yes! yes-" i blurt out,
chris grabs my throat, pinning me down to the bed.
my eyes open in shock, a few short breaths exiting my mouth.
"finish, finish for me."
and with those words i do, i clench around him and release my built up orgasm. chris instantly lets go of my throat being careful not to push me too hard, he pulls out, painting my stomach with warm streaks of white.
"fuck...." he groans, throwing his head back.
i catch my breath as chris collapses next to me, he pulls me ontop of his body as he strokes my hair.
"you did so well." he whispers into my hair.
after a good 10 minutes of laying in silence i break it,
"um chris.."
"yes?" he replies.
"what are we.. now."
another silence fills the room "i dont know." he says, a bit of guilt in his voice.
he starts "i mean if you give me a few weeks we can put a label on us or we could just stay friends and forget this happened but i dont know if i want that because i really enjoyed this but i mean we could be friends with benefits-"
i interuppt his rambles "friends with benefits!?" i say with a small smile.
"if you want, could be fun like sneaking around.."
i nod frantically at chris's words "i'd like that."
-
(saturday 5pm)
after yesterday nights unexpected encounter chris and i have kept our promise, this whole day everyones been hanging out at the pool but currently we're in the bathroom, and hes fully inside of me.
"fuck-" he mumbles, slamming into me as i sit on the countertop. my bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as he pounds into me repeatedly, "close." he warns.
i clench around him, the knot in my stomach snapping as i release around his length with a scream of his name. he pulls out, orgasming on my thighs.
"you okay?" he asks, panting as he wipes my thigh with his hand.
i collide our lips together "yeah." i mumble into his mouth.
a few seconds pass before we pull away, he helps me down off the countertop as i catch my balance.
he grabs my hand and unlocks the bathroom door, he guides us both back to the pool, rejoining all our friends like we weren't fucking each other 3 minutes ago.
i lay down by the poolside, my legs shaking slightly from the intensity of the past events.
chris sits down next to me "you got a little something." he whispers with a laugh, quickly reaching down and wiping my thigh where we missed a spot.
(1 month later)
a month ago today chris and i were sneaking around at his 20th birthday party, for the past 4 weeks we've been meeting up at each other's houses, hooking up every time we get the chance. we didnt speak about anything, i think hes happy staying friends with benefits even though i want more, ive needed more for 3 years.
11:32pm
i roll over in bed, checking my phone one last time before i fall asleep. suddenly my phone frantically vibrates,
its chris?
i pick up the phone "chris its late..." i groan into the phone.
"i need to talk to you, can i come over.. please?" he asks innocently, "okay if you want to just talk, im so tired."
i hang up, after a couple minutes i hear the rumble of chriss car in my driveway, followed by his footsteps upstairs. he swings open the door to my room "hey!" he says nervously, jumping into bed beside me. "you alright?" i ask, holding his hand.
he stays silent for a few seconds, before starting.
"i think im in love with you?" he blurts out.
"you- what?" i repeat, confusion painted in my voice.
"i know, but for the past few.. years? ive liked you- alot.. and i dont just want you to be my fuck buddy anymore, i want to be more."
he takes a deep breath, i stay silent in shock.
"i feel the absolute exact same Christopher." i say, looking over at him.
"do you wanna.. make things official." he asks quietly.
i roll over ontop of him, smothering him in kisses "yes!" i laugh, wrapping my arms around him. relief washes over his face.
we lay still for a few minutes, "can i stay the night?" he asks with a laugh, "please do." i reply, my eyes fluttering shut.
we lay in silence for a few minutes, but a small laugh exits his mouth.
"yeah?" i smile into his chest.
"nothing it was just painfully obvious i was head over heels for you, how did you not guess" he laughs
"chris, im sorry but i was terrified to make a move purely because of how it wasnt obvious." i say, planting the 84th kiss of the night on his face.
----------------------------
626 notes · View notes
phantombriide · 7 months
Text
EX-GIRLFRIEND!ELLIE HEADCANONS
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.• content warnings: toxic!ellie, mean!ellie, manipulation, angst, mentions of sex and gaslighting, and cheating.
໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა note: hopping on the toxic!ellie bandwagon thanks to @beforeimdeceased who inspired me to write this. also this isn't proofread so if you see a mistake, squint, spin around three times and you won't see it <3
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ex-girlfriend!ellie who was genuinely in love with you from start to finish so it's really hard for you when you break up and she turns into the bane or your existence
you two ended on weird terms that left her spiteful and bitter and guess who's problem it is now
you guessed it! you.
it starts with nasty looks from afar any time she sees you. you'll flash that smile that she loves so much and it just makes her physically sick to where she can hardly look at you
she'll whisper to her friends and laughs loud enough to where you can hear so you know nothing she's saying is good
"don't look now but that's my fucking ex. i can't believe i ever did that."
you'd take it to heart and cry later that night and she knows it. it almost makes her happy knowing you're feeling half the pain she felt when you left her.
the crazy part is, you left her for a perfectly good reason. she'd constantly go out of her way to make you jealous and insecure just so she felt needed in your relationship. you just eventually got fed up and left much to her own surprise.
her actions are out of embarrassment more than anything, not believing that you'd ever just up and leave despite having every reason to. i mean c'mon! it was just harmless flirting and a few jokes that you couldn't take!
ellie who keeps the necklace you gave her allowing her new girl to flaunt it around proudly as if it wasn't dangling over your face while she made love to you several weeks prior.
she wants to jump up and down when she sees the way you roll your eyes at the sight, scoffing at her audacity before storming away.
she'll chase you and taunt you, "what's wrong, baby? that hit a sore spot?"
"you're a dick, ellie." you'd tell her as if she doesn't know already. she shrugs her shoulders, letting you bump into her as you walk away.
right when you think it's close to over, she just pops back into your life with more bullshit just to stay in your life.
it's sad truly. you realize she's just hurt, but you've chased the opportunity to make things better or to at least make sure you were on good terms, but she's too stubborn for you.
she'd do little things like post her new girl to your favorite songs, bump into you while passing by, or sending old snap memories of you two laid up naked after a moment with a taunting caption like "miss this?"
but sometimes her mean actions weren't so small. they were major and uncalled for. you'd lay up at night crying after receiving a video of her giving back shots to some girl that definitely wasn't her girlfriend, whispering praises she knows you craved to hear from her when together.
she'd then text after "wrong person mb"
eventually she'd let up, now in a serious relationship with some other girl that seemed to change her and apart of you is broken after learning that fact because it's something you were incapable of doing.
ellie wants to reach out to you and apologize due to the commands of her new girl, but deep down she knows there's nothing she can say to compensate for what she's done.
she'll watch your instagram story from her spam that you forgot to block her on, comparing you to her girlfriend like the piece of shit she is.
you could imagine the surprise when she gets a snap one night of her girl between your legs, having you in the position that she did months ago.
1K notes · View notes
foxyteah · 1 year
Text
Alright fine here is my obligatory won't-let-me-sleep dc dp idea
Enter left: Immortal Ghost King Danny who's made peace with having to stay in the Zone fulltime to keep the place from going to metaphorical hell, but that doesn't mean he can't visit Amity every now and then for some basic human pleasures like coffee, soda and a burger
Thing is, with no basic income and unwilling to mooch off his friends' and parents' money for the rest of their life, he comes up with the brilliant idea of a gofundme which circulates on tumblr every few months and literally just says "buy a coffee and burger for your local king of the dead, any help is appreciated :)"
Enter right: One Tim Drake whose fatal flaw is not something as simple as posting rants or online-shopping when sleep deprived, oh no, no Tim instead clicks on any crowdfunding posts he comes across and throws money at them from his anonymous bank account, then forgets all about it after a full night's sleep
This guy has slept 7 hours in 2 weeks and just busted the unholy drug ring child of the Maroni's and Black Mask, he is ready to die in his sleep and scrolling tumblr instead. He sees a signal boost post with 1 note and the keywords 'dead' and 'any help', promptly dumps a random sum on it and drops off
He is woken from his sleep by a guy literally squeezing himself out of his phone screen like a cat through a mouse hole except so much worse, yelling at him about selling his kidney through a PHONE not even a COMPUTER screen, and asks him if he is Tim Jackson Drake
Tim, still waking up, replies yes, because yes he is Tim Drake and not someone else like a vigilante haha no, and then in the next hour becomes coherent enough to understand that this guy is the actual King of the Dead, doesn't know his secret identity and literally ghosted several firewalls and offshore accounts, bypassed all that and travelled digitally through to him because he left him 50 grand on his gofundme for a burger and that is just not okay please ask for a refund i'll find you a new kidney pLEASE
Tim refuses.
Hell if he knows why but he's not taking the money back, he has enough anyway so Phantom can keep it and buy himself a life supply of Coca Cola or something
Phantom refuses.
Because what even this is non-negotiable
So they're at a stalemate and have argued through Tim's morning routine, through breakfast for two and the drive to work which Phantom spends invisible while in public, and halway up the WE elevator before Danny falls silent and after Tim closes his office door says:
"You're rich."
"Yes I am."
"You're like, stinking rich. Billionaire rich?"
"Pretty much."
"..."
"Will you keep the money now?"
"...Nope, now I'm even less inclined to."
But the King of the Dead stops harassing Tim to make him poor again and leaves, and Tim has a whole day of peace before he gets home, where he is immediately slobbered up by a two-headed dog the size of his Ducati.
"If you're giving me all that money for free then have this hellhound, rich people need bodyguard dogs right"
"I refuse, also why does it have two heads"
"My rottweiler met a Cerberus and the rest is history, also come ON I can't just accept this much money pLEASE tell me your PRICE"
"50 grand"
"oh ha ha"
Somehow they agree for Tim to accept a blob ghost that will be invisible most of the time, completely invisible on any surveillance, and will only serve as an emotional support cheek-rub and an emergency call if Tim's ever in trouble, Tim is reassured he'll go get Phantom personally if that ever happens, and only on Tim's orders which will never happen
Except one time he really does need help because he and all his support structure is captured or incapacitated, so he asks Phoenix for help and promptly finds out why she insisted on that name when she explodes in a spray of green all over his face and now everyone and especially Jason is staring at the green goo
And then the ground cracks open to a lime green pithole, the lights go out and the place turns cold, and out of the hellhole rises Phantom wreathed in flame and shadows, rising his finger at the enemy and intoning softly
"Where is he?"
"W-who?
"Where's my sugar daddy?"
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jobean12-blog · 9 months
Text
Perfect Kind of Trouble
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 4,566
Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you. 
Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰
Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever! 
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“Oh my god, he’s here.”
You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.
“Who Nat?”
She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.
“Bucky Barnes.”
“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.
“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”
You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.
“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.
She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.
“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.
“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”
“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”
“Righttt…so, who is he?”
“Just the perfect man.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone knows.”
You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.
“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.
“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”
“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”
“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.
“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”
“I don’t get it,” you say.
“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”
“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.
“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”
“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”
“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”
At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.
When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.
A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.
Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.
Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.
When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.
“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”
Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.
With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.
“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”
You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.
“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”
It comes out as a question and he chuckles.
“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.
“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.
He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.
As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.
You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.
“Another?” you ask.
“Sure doll, thanks.”
While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.
“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”
“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”
“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.
You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.
“Nat.”
Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”
You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.
“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”
At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.
“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”
His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.
“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”
He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.
You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”
“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”
“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”
“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.
You nod, looking completely unconvinced.
Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”
You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”
You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.
At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.
As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.
He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.
Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.
You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.
Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.
When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.
“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”
“I wasn’t really…”
The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”
You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.
“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.
His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.
You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”
“Work…I still have to work.”
His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.
You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.
Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.
It makes you cringe.
“Hi there,” he says.
“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.
One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.
You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”
Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.
Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.
The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”
Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”
The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.
You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.
“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.
All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.
The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”
They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.
“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.
Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.
“I think so. That was just…crazy.”
Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”
You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.
“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.
He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”
You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.
“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”
You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.
“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”
Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.
“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.
Your jaw drops open in offense.
“What? NO!”
He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.
You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.
“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”
He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”
“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”
He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.
You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.
“Let me get you fixed up.”
Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.
“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”
His question is light.
“Go where?”
“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”
“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”
“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”
Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.
“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.
“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”
Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”
You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.
“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”
You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.
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The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.
Bucky fills the doorway.
Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.
You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.
“Hey, doll.”
“Hey, Bucky.”
“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”
“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”
“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”
You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.
He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”
He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.
When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.
“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”
“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.
He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.
“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”
You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.
Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.
You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.
“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.
He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”
You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.
After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”
His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.
When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”
The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.
You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.
“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”
He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.
“See ya soon doll.”
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The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.
“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.
He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.
You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.
“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.
You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.
“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.
You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.
As your shift nears its end he calls you over.
“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.
“I can’t tonight.”
He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.
It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.
The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.
You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.
Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.
The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.
A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.
“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.
“Nice to meet you Charlie.”
You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.
His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.
He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.
“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”
“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”
You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.
“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”
With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.
You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.
Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”
You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.
“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”
“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”
“No it’s not!”
“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”
She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.
“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.
“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.
You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.
Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”
She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”
“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.
“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”
“Me!” you say defensively.
Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”
Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.
“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”
Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”
“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.
“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.
You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.
“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”
“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”
“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.
Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”
“Yes he is.”
The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.
Finally!
The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.
“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”
“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.
You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.
“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.
You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.
When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”
Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.
He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.
Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.
Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.
“Hey,” he says soothingly.
“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.
His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”
He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.
“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”
“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”
Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.
Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.
You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.
“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.
He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.
“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”
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@book-dragon-13  @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife​
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peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks
i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3
!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!
✨masterlist✨.
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1.4k.
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Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.
Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.
You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”
The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.
You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.
“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.
Shit.
“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.
There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.
When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.
A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.
When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.
You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.
Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”
He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.
Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.
The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”
You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.
Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.
You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.
Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.
“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”
Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.
That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.
It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.
Shit.
You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.
This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.
But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.
‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’
Shit.
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biibini · 2 months
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Yoyoyooo, Im literally obsessed w ur headcanons. How do you like the idea Mizu/reader first nighttt together (nsfw??)
modern!mizu x reader - first night together
tags: SUGGESTIVE, cuddling, making out, first time spending the night, gentle making out, soft, fluff, first night, comfort, soft mizu, modern au, modern mizu x reader
a/n: im so behind with my asks :( but my friend found my tumblr acc so hiiiii yk who u are im typing this out while i was texting u last night hehe
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modern!mizu would be the one to ask u to sleep over
it wouldn't be meticulously planned
but hinted
typically, u would just come over and watch netflix, cook, maybe play a game or just study together before she walks u to ur dorm
mizu had hoped to maybe ask u to spend the night much earlier
but the fear of moving too fast in a relationship due to her previous relationship with [redacted] held her back
so she never had the nerve to ask
until one night rolls around
and the stars align
ringo went to visit his family for the weekend
u come over to finish a show on netflix, cuddling as per usual
its late at night and ur start to doze off
The final moments of The Great British Bakeshow play on the TV screen. You hear the judges give their final score as you slowly drift to sleep. Mizu doesn't notice how sleepy you are.
Not until your head suddenly rests on her arm.
"Y/N?"
You hum in response, internally struggling against the sleepiness. Mizu turns to get a closer look at your face to find your eyes shut, fighting to stay open. Normally, she would try to wake you up and walk you home to your dorm.
That is what normally happens.
Normally, she wouldn't be wrapping her arm closer to you. Normally, she wouldn't let your head rest against her chest.
Normally, she wouldn't let you stay a little longer.
But tonight, the stars aligned. Ringo was gone to visit his family for his cousin's birthday. Akemi was on a girl's trip with her hometown friends. Taigen was out of town for a basketball tournament.
No one could bother them.
Not tonight.
Definitely not tomorrow.
"How about you stay over tonight?", Mizu says softly. Her hand caresses your left side, hoping for her invitation to be accepted.
Oh.
The thought of staying over had popped into your mind a few several times. You never chased the idea. Besides, it would be rude of you to ask when it wasn't even your own place.
But now, the question was laid right in front of you.
You look up to answer to find Mizu looking down at you, staring at you with those piercing blue eyes. Your smile widens, accepting the invitation with a nod.
"I'll stay.", you respond.
externally, ur keeping it cool
internally, ur freaking tf out
u and mizu have been going out for a few weeks
but staying over the night? not quite yet
modern!mizu would also try to keep her cool
from ur perspective, she looks relaxed
but from her point of view, a part of her was anxious
it wasn't the fear of moving too fast
it was the fact that it was ur first time sleeping together
u guys have SLEPT together
but that would only happen when ringo wasn't home
there wasn't a lonely night
at least
not until tonight
Her hands hold onto yours, gently pulling you into the bedroom. It looked unusual in the moonlight as opposed to the familiar daylight version of the room.
"You can go wash up first. I'll find some pajamas for you.", she says reassuringly.
As you walk into the bathroom, Mizu searches for something suitable for you to wear. She hears the shower run behind the door as she scrambles for something. Anything.
She knew she didn't have actual pajamas. Her sleepwear is just filled with old T-shirts and mismatched shorts or pants. Her hunt leaves her with an oversized t-shirt from Ringo's previous workplace at Hen-Oh Ramen, a chicken ramen chain store, and blue pajama shorts. That place didn't last long after the owner was found stealing the broth recipe from their competitor.
Mizu knocks on the door.
"Hey, may I come in? I have your clothes."
"Yeah, come in!", you yell from the shower.
after u change into the borrowed pjs, u come out
mizu is just chilling in bed on her phone
drinking her chamomile tea
trying to distract herself from the thought of u in her clothes
ur pretty figure in her pjs...
u join her under the sheets
and she gets a glimpse of u
modern!mizu totally didnt short circuit
and sip a little too much and end up coughing on her drink
kinda spilled a little on her shirt
u go into the bathroom to get paper towels and help clean up
You crawl onto the bed with a few paper towels in hand. As you get closer to Mizu and her tea-stained shirt, you sit atop of her leg. You hand a paper towel to her. On the other hand, you're patting down the stains.
The chamomile tea stains are spread all over her chest and stomach. They're not piping hot but a little too warm for comfort. As you continue to pat along the stains, you inch down her lower chest to her stomach. You pat against the damp fabric and feel her stomach. It's a little soft but the harder you press, the harder it becomes to the touch.
In awe, you continue your job as you pat further along her rock-hard stomach. You fail to realize her face is flaring a bright shade of red against her pale skin.
"Y/N?", you look up to meet her ocean blue eyes softly gazing into yours. They were still the same ol' blue you always admire. However, this time they looked warm. An ocean during the sunset with its gentle waves crashing into the shore.
"I got it. Just-", she says as she gently grabs the paper towel you used on the bedrest next to her. Her arms spread wide open. She places her hands on your hips.
"C'mere.", she smiles as she gently caresses your sides.
"But the stains-"
"Don't worry about them."
You feel her hands slowly caress further up your sides. Her hands ghost over your breasts, almost cupping them. You push yourself closer to her and shift your legs over the sides of her legs. She smiles in response to your new position.
"It's an old T-shirt.", she reassured. Still slightly anxious about spending the first night together, she recognized two decisions that could be made. One, make you comfortable and sleep well tonight. Two, make you COMFORTABLE comfortable and sleep later tonight.
Her left hand finds its way down to your hips, caressing the area. As for her right hand, you feel the callouses brush along your neck. They make their way to your soft cheeks, now a pinkish-red tint from the intimate position.
"It'll be okay. But you on the other hand...", Mizu inches closer to your face as she gently pulls you closer. Her thumb softly caresses your lips, feeling how soft and plump they are. Her touch makes your brain go crazy for her touch.
Is it needy of you? Yes.
The fact that she's just softly kissing you on your first night spent together is making your mind shortcircuit with every kiss.
But the feeling of her soft lips against you is warm and plush. Comforting. Your eyes flutter close as her left arm wraps around your lower back, closing the gap between the two of you. As you continue to kiss Mizu, you feel her body shift up and allow her back to rest against the headboard.
Each kiss becomes softer. An occasional needy kiss here and there from her. But for the most part, her lips become a deeper shade of red from your contact. You feel her right hand drag closer to your ear, her fingers teasing your neck.
You groan as Mizu comes closer for another kiss, now with more force on your swollen lips. Her grip around your lower back tightened, fighting to pull you even closer to her. Every touch and kiss heightens your sensitivity. A familiar warmth starts to grow in your lower stomach.
Mizu loosens her grip and starts kissing from your cheeks and down your neck. You feel her lips gently kiss your neck, tickling you with every touch. As she works towards the side of your neck, a moan slips out.
"I guess we have a long night ahead of us.", Mizu teased as she smiled tenderly at you.
"Mizu!", you say jokingly, retaliating against the idea.
She wasn't wrong though.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle.", she comforts you, sealing the deal with a kiss.
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bones4thecats · 3 months
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Hello, if it's not a problem, I would like to make a request to Leona and Jamil, (my favorite boys) with a female reader who is a princess from a kingdom on the moon (and technically a divine being) and even though she had several suitors, she chose him as her boyfriend please
Type of Writing: Request Characters: Leona Kingscholar and Jamil Viper Name: {Character} with Princess! Reader That Chooses Them Over Others Requester: @marinahavik
A/N: Oh, this is so cute! I honestly think that having a person choosing them over someone else would warm their hearts, since they were always put behind others, Falena for Leona and Kalim for Jamil. Honestly it's so sad😢
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🦁 As a princess and heir to a thrown, you had a bunch of pressure on yourself, from being 'picture perfect' to having the 'best man' be yours, it was something that many went through and eventually accepted, but you did not just lay down
🦁 You had turned down man after man, most of whom all laid out their intentions behind a front of gentlemanly, and that pissed you off
🦁 Instead of keeping it to yourself and staying home, you ran to your parents and requested to be transported to Night Raven College, saying you wished to take a break and hang with your best friend, Leona Kingscholar
🦁 The beastman was not someone many could picture ruling, due to his lazy and deadbeat persona, but, you cared for him beyond everything
🦁 Though, you did not know how far he cared about you, he wanted to be your one and only, but, he did not know how to exactly lay that out to his parents, since they obviously feared your family slightly
🦁 You were divine beings, a cross between human and fae, with the ability to have extended lives with a ritual with a special gem found on the moon while still appearing completely human, with a few exceptions
🦁 Your appearance and role paled far lighter in comparison to his, but your differences drew him in, and when he felt you jump on his back as he walked around Savanaclaw, he chuckled and hugged you from the front, teasing you with that smirk of his
" Marry me! " " Huh? "
🦁 Now you had him shocked. You wanted to marry him? What about all of the other men that had come to earn your heart, did they not match with you right? Did he have to kick some ass?!
🦁 Okay, he'll put his anger behind him, for now
" Y/N? What exactly do you mean by, 'marry me'? You want to marry me for something, don't you? " " No! Those guys who have tried themselves for my heart did nothing, but you, Leona Kingscholar, you have wrapped my heart around your finger without any effort! Please, marry me and become my one and only Prince. "
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🐍 Jamil only knew you because of the meetings he had heard about from Kalim growing up, how fun you were and how amazingly calm you were with his younger siblings
🐍 When you came to Night Raven College monthly to visit Kalim for a week at a time, Jamil got to know you a lot better. And, while your future subjects may frown upon it, you grew to adore the young man
🐍 He had a bunch of hobbies that he had to push aside to do his main objectives in life, take care and protect Kalim from any danger
🐍 You knew he hated it, but there wasn't much you could do, because you lived on a whole different piece of floating rock, and besides, you people didn't exactly have the best relationship with humans, you were basically the same as the fae and humans, constant fights and battles
🐍 Jamil eventually became fond of you, since you would tell him to take a break as you asked one of your helpers to do something for him while you gave him a well-needed break
🐍 He and you basically became better friends than he and Kalim were, since you looked past everything that he put up as a front of patience and no-calamity, while inside he was the opposite at times
🐍 Hearing from Kalim that you were being held back for a couple months to go through suitors, his heart sunk to his stomach, you had to choose a suitor? You were still so young, barely even a young adult!
🐍 He pushed his own, and in his eyes, selfish feelings, behind and sent you a letter from him and Kalim stating their wishes of luck for you and whomever you chose to spend the rest of your life with, ruling a kingdom and all
🐍 But, when the doors slammed open and you ran in with your personal guard by your side, the two jumped and looked at you in surprise, tears falling down your face as you softly cried before smiling at Jamil
" Jamil Viper, do me the pleasure of becoming my future king. " " WHAT?! "
🐍 He was definitely surprised you would ask him that, he was a mere servant for a noble family, why would you choose him over the endless list of royalty you had laying on their knees for you
🐍 Kalim smiled and pulled your guard out of the room, stating you guys needed privacy for such a large decision and all
🐍 Jamil looked down into your eyes, which reflected the darkness of the night sky and he smiled, stating how he would love to, but he was a low-rank man from a nothing family and he couldn't possibly marry you, no matter how much his heart yearned for it
" I already spoke to my parents, 'ya snake! They said they wanted me to do what my heart wanted, and y'know what my heart wants? It wants you, and only you. Please, listen to your heart and not your brain for once. "
🐍 The male closed his eyes and let his brain go blank, freeing itself of it's constant prying of being the perfect man to help Kalim, and his heart spoke for itself for once in a very long time
" If it makes you happy, your majesty, I will be happy to wed you. I cannot wait to see Kalim's reaction, and my family's. "
🐍 Smiling at him, your tears stopped falling as wave of joy replaced the one of depression and anxiety of him turning you down once more, and while you looked into his eyes, Jamil chuckled as he leaned in for your first kiss
" Jamil! The stove! " " Oh sh- "
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jazjelspen · 10 months
Text
leaving on wild charted waters [pt.3]
(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)
(how would some of our NRC students react to this?...)
(includes each house leader +ace and deuce! as requested!<3)
(also includes lots of angst!/mention of blood but not a lot/ angst angst angst angst angst--/not proofread/may be ooc and inconsistent in some places(in both the second part and this part) my apologies!! T-T/mention of book7 overblot/did I mention angst?)
it's been over two weeks now, two weeks in RSA.
so far you've met the headmaster of the school, Ambrose LXIII, with the guidance of Rielle. the headmaster understood your circumstances and talked to you about how he'll try his best to find a way back home for you, and to ease up any of your doubts and concerns he even said he'll promptly ask a student to hand you a report from him of any progress he's made to ensure a safe passage back home for you!
even without having to be an official student or enroll they let you stay in the same dorm as Rielle with your own dorm room as a temporary stay here... and your dorm room was actually nice and well set up! like a hotel room... you were relieved you didn't have to worry about the ceiling cracking and falling on your face for the rest of your nights here.
and to your amazement the headmaster kept his word, unlike Crowley. any report of progress was mostly driven by research but he did mention a lot of Twisted Wonderland's history to connect to any potential gateways back to your world... and this felt way better than whatever Crowley was doing so it was like a breath of fresh air.
finally for the first time ever you've been able to feel like you’re several steps closer to seeing your friends and family back home!... every time you'd think about it you'd get goosebumps of excitement.
during these past few days you've met an enormous amount of friends! most of them being Rielle's while others were outside of the inner social circle but still all of them were friendly or just got along in some way or form, it seemed almost magical. aside from Rielle one of your other closest friends was this boy of green eyes and long, and I mean long blonde hair that usually either dragged behind him or was in a huge braid, he was actually the one who healed your broken arm and wounds with his magical healing powers from his hair! and now you're able to be more active again!
Raps is his name, and he was usually always called upon and under strict supervision by his father whom was a professor there... but you weren't sure if they are related by blood or not since the professor had dark black curls and grey eyes rather than the yellow haired boy's more bright features, but you never really bothered to ask or wonder much. in the end you two got along well and actually had a bit in common! mostly due to the fact that you both can relate to the feeling of being trapped, restrained.
in the end you absolutely loved your temporary stay here so far, you hoped no overblots would ruin your experience... so you never really let your guard down but nonetheless it was relaxing.
we wouldn't be able to say the same for Night Raven College and everyone you left behind though!
Meanwhile in Night Raven College....
it was after classes ended on this cold and grey day when five particular freshmen and a student robot of NRC have been grouping up after school for the past week for one particular reason only...
"where could they be?? we've searched everywhere! the halls, the classrooms, the garden, forest, the shore... it's like they disappeared from thin air!" exclaimed the ace, Ace Trappola to be exact.
"we've looked everywhere Ace, what also irks me is that even Vil has been harsher on the entire dorm since they disappeared." the apple of the group, Epel Felmier, sighed in frustration on the brink of snapping.
"...but could they have been taken, kidnapped?... I'm sure Grim would've heard of any struggle but we haven't even heard from the cat." spoke the wolf of the group, Jack Howl.
"no.. Grim has been avoiding us like the plague and even managed to sneak away from us several times. not sure where he could be hiding now aside from the old ramshackle dorm but-- even yet he always manages to slip through our hands!..." the spade spoke worryingly, Deuce Spade was deeply concerned for your safety and confused over Grim's actions.
"that human!! they've been driving the young master mad! all he's been talking about is where they could be and if they are alright!!... and every time I come back to him it's like the sky and his excellence himself just keeps getting worse and worse!.." the loudest knight of Malleus Draconia, Sebek Zigvolt, exclaimed loudly with worry for both the prefect and his young master... but more worried about the young master's train of thought with how worse the clouds have been getting with the most terrible rain and thunder when each day goes by.
"my big brother hasn't been sleeping at all.. way worse than when he has his game marathons. he's constantly looking for any digital footprint they could've left or even trying to hack into their location but it always overrides somehow... it always says that the device is dead or nonexistent." the younger of the shroud brothers, Ortho Shroud, is seen stressing over you and his big brother, Idia Shroud. "with the amount of information my big brother has been trying to look through it could possibly even make me short circuit."
the entire group was at a frustrating dead end for any clue of your disappearance aside from all your everyday items being left behind and your last known scent to be in the ramshackle dorm and at the very edge of the sea. other than that no one has much of a clue.
well they have been hearing from students that a ship appeared as quickly as it disappeared in the night/very early morning before anyone was up, and that one rumor caused other different kinds of rumors to spread like wildfire. some say you were abducted by pirates, stolen by mischievous pixies, suddenly teleported back into your world without warning, or even... that you have finally left on your own. everyone acknowledged the rumors but they didn't want to think about the reality, the cold hard truth, that you really could've left.
if only they knew how terrible their house leaders took it too.
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(requested characters)
Ace: the ace, one of the first people you've met. he's always been a funny and childish friend, sometimes he made you laugh and cry of joy from his terrible yet funny jokes and antics while other times said antics would get you in trouble. he didn't want to accept that he could be part of the reason why you're gone, which is why he tried to convince himself and everyone else around that you were taken instead of leaving voluntarily... he wouldn't be able to handle the guilt and heartbreak to accept that you truly left. he loved you, he truly cared for you and your well-being-- he knew he had a hard time to express these feelings but you were his best friend! of course he cared for your health! but... he couldn't handle the fact that maybe just maybe... he wasn't there for you enough to stay with them a little longer.
he could still remember the first day that you were gone, you weren't in any of your classes-- the teachers didn't even call your name when taking attendance anymore. it was utterly bizarre. Grim was still in his classes yet he sat far away from any students that knew you and disappeared after every class ended.. it was as if he was hiding something. and he was, but Ace and Deuce had no idea what it could be aside that they knew it was about you.
in the end, Ace is left heartbroken knowing that he didn't make sure to do enough to help you even when you asked for it from them. he knew that all he and deuce gave you was pure and utter trouble.
and he couldn't accept the fact, so now here he is having his friends look for you when he knew that you were long gone without even saying goodbye.
Deuce: the spade, one of the first people you've met alongside the ace, a passionate yet slow boy with a heart of gold. as much as he cared for you too the way Ace did he knew that even he wasn't helping either. he knew they should've done more or at least what you asked of them. but now you're gone, and just like Ace it seems as if he too is in denial about their part in your disappearance. he truly wants to believe that you didn't leave on your own even if all evidence was starting to slowly point to that possibility.
unlike Ace though, he seemed to be accepting it faster than him. he still followed along with the story that you were taken but he knew that after all the trouble, all the overblots, all your injuries-- he knew you just couldn't handle it anymore. after all it was clearly written on your face the day when you awoke from losing consciousness in the last overblot that you were ready to move on and make proper progress to get home.
he just...truly wishes that at least wherever you are that you are at least taking care of yourself with more helpful and reliable friends by your side, something he knew that he and Ace weren't able to do.
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(your dorm leaders)
Riddle
inside of the dorm with pampered red roses adorning every corner was the queen of hearts of the Heartslabyul dorm completely and utterly tearing his dorm room into shreds in pure red rage. 
Riddle Rosehearts was fuming, heartbroken, and betrayed on so many levels that he hasn't felt in a good while. hearing from Cater and Trey about your disappearance and then hearing from other of his dorm students about the ship that sailed here as quickly as it left in the late hours of the night/very early hours of the morning.
he immediately assumed that you were kidnapped and in danger! he even marched to the headmaster's office to report your disappearance with other dorm leaders!... well actually-- surprisingly they all came at the same time without planning. but in the end when approaching Crowley with this question of 'where is the prefect?', the headmaster was calm, horrifyingly calm, and said a phrase that shook him on many levels with his fellow dorm leaders beside him.
"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home! they felt too bad to tell you all so they just left."
"but they will be coming back to say goodbye before they go back home-- if they find a way back home... right?" spoke the leader of Ignihyde, for the first time out of his room.
"unlikely!" exclaimed the headmaster with a smile.
that one first phrase that headmaster Crowley told them was all that he needed to hear, in the moment of processing what he's heard everything was basically fading away as he also slowly but quickly ran back to his dorm room, in tears.
he was so angry, so furious, so emotional, so... he felt as if his own heart had been grabbed and thrown out of his chest. 'why couldn't you at least say goodbye??' he'd think.
he has never thrown so many books, ripped up so many letters he's written for you from himself that he never dared to send or give, and cut up then stepped on so many bouquets of roses in his room with your name on the tags.
wait...
oh, those roses. 
he stopped dead in his tracks with tears streaming down his face as he pathetically dropped down to his knees at the sight of all the five sad 'bouquets' of fresh red roses he planned to give you, now all had their petals and stems broken, torn, shredded, and crushed.
he then realized he didn't have his gloves on anymore... his palms had small yet prominent holes that were dripping red, red as the roses he destroyed. seems like the roses had thorns. 
ahh..he remembers now... 
those roses were meant just for you. 
Leona:
"what do you mean you still haven't found the herbivore yet?..." spoke the ruthless Kingscholar lion of Savannaclaw in a low yet snarly tone "I doubt they could've swam themselves out of here with waters like the ones this place has anyway. you all are likely not even looking right." he huffed as he closed his eyes with his body on the ground of the botanical garden facing away from the hyena gasping for air due to all the running that he had to do to bring the news to Leona.
Ruggie took a few deep breathes and quick pants before speaking "...we've already got twelve other students including the Ignihyde dorm leader's younger brother and the vice-dorm leader of Pomefiore, a robot and a hunter, looking around and no one's found them! Howl already tried to sniff them out and all we came up with was nothing much but just a faint smell of them from the shore." he huffed and panted in exhaustion.
Leona just scoffed "as I mentioned before, you're all still probably not looking in the right places."
Ruggie tried to intercept but knew that even if he did it'd be fruitless and gain nothing from trying to correct Leona, yet he was frustrated too and wanted to know where you could be as well.
but unlike the freshmen at least Ruggie has been starting to accept the possibility that you really have left, forever. Ruggie was about to turn and leave to continue the search and try to sniff out any information from other students until---
"Bucchi." Leona broke the short silence with a throaty command for his attention which he certainly achieved with both of Ruggie's ears poking up to hear his next set of words.
"keep participating in the search for the prefect. If all continues to come up dry, then I'll just have to take this into my own hands."
and this time without trying to speak a single word back he nodded with a quick and stern 'mhm' before scurrying off to help the rest of the students. once the hyena was gone Leona then had his eyes look up through one of the many windows in the garden that are presenting the sky's ever growing storm. oh how much he was longing for you.
he could still remember as if it was yesterday, when Crowley told all of the house leaders the news after they all abruptly showed up at the same time.
"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home!"
that phrase.. he remembered how taken aback he was.
Leona slammed his fists on the headmaster's table "parted. ways?? as in they left NRC?!" a low growl came from inside his throat as Headmaster Crowley contained his eerily calm smile on his face.
"Sir Kingscholar I must insist you to control your temper." he spoke in his usual annoying and irritating voice "It's what they decided and were set on, end of story."
Leona couldn't remember much else after that blow out since all he did right after that was back away and stayed stuck in his thoughts until finally he just left the room suddenly. He didn't listen to any conversations that happened after that since all he could think was 'why not at least say goodbye?'
he finished recounting the moment before he mumbled to himself "I still have too much to say to you.",
but really he hoped that somehow somewhere you could still hear him. even if you probably left them for good.
Azul:
The sea witch of the Octavinelle dorm was pacing back and forth in every corner across his office in the Mostro Lounge. He's tried his best to squeeze out any information out of any of his dorm students or employees about the prefect with the help of his left and right hand eels ,Jade and Floyd Leech, with Floyd being the most productive yet not catching much information aside from the students he's squeezed the air out of exclaiming about some ship that has left in the midst of the night way pass midnight but too early to be morning. It intrigued all three yet it made our octopus pop a few nerves with how panicky he's been.
when he first heard this rumor it made him run to the headmaster's office with the immense fear that you could've been taken. he could remember his glasses slipping off at every bounce he made with each step of his run. he could remember the moment he opened the door to the headmaster's office along with the sudden appearance of all of his fellow house leaders in the same room..(excluding Malleus as usual) he could still feel the sweat dripping down his face, the crazy and misplaced strands of hair from his usual look, his glasses lopsided, and the scarf of his uniform threatening to fall off his shoulder-- of course he attempted to fix every one of these details on the spot to look somewhat presentable.
yet the answer he got from the headmaster was nothing short of soul-crushing for him. he asked a continuous amounts of questions as to why and how but all were dodged by the headmaster and answered with a short,
"it's just what they decided."
now he's just back into his office now diving head first into his work and school. much to his dismay it only kept him distracted for a temporary amount of time and in the dark of night under his covers all he could think about is you, just you.
he truly wished he could've been a part of your world.
Kalim:
the generous sultan of the Scarabia dorm was sulking in his room with his friend Jamil sitting by his side. Kalim was heartbroken over your disappearance and he remembers how worried sick he was at first. he like many assumed you were kidnapped and he was even waiting for some kind of ransom note to appear and he would've paid full price and more... but when he and other dorm leaders came to talk their concerns all they got was the news that you left voluntarily.
he was one of very few that felt that in their hearts you'd come back. one way or another Kalim felt in his broken heart that you'd appear as suddenly as you disappeared and unlike other dorm leaders he wouldn't put it against you to the slightest. he wouldn't hold grudges or be mad at you if you ever came back, in fact he understood why you'd leave and he was all up for making everything ten times better than before just so you'd never leave him again.
"you have to be realistic here, Kalim. for all we know maybe they found a way home faster than they did here, or they found a place where they don't have to worry about the next overblot or what their next meal will be." Jamil tried to be straightforward and blunt with Kalim, he didn't want him to have hope that you'd come back and then actually never coming back. "we don't know and may never know unless some kind of obvious sign shows that they will actually come back... but just don't keep your hopes up. for your sake." Jamil stood up from the edge of the bed to walk towards the exit of the room "I'll be back, I have to make dinner so you won't go to sleep starving."
With Jamil leaving Kalim then jumped out of his bed to open his window, the sky still not clear of the grey clouds and still not dark enough for the second star of the right to show up but still hoped that his message would still be received by the wishing star.
the platinum blonde boy held his hands together under his lips "please please please please.. please.." Kalim mumbled, wishing with all his heart.
"please, may _____ be safe, sound, and happy... wherever they are.."
Vil:
in the dorm of the fairest queen was the dorm leader watching from up above behind the tallest window of his room. clenching both of the red velvet curtains in his hands as he watched a group of freshman and a robot, including one of his own, group up and talk hectically and stressfully to each other. Vil Schoenheit knew very well why this particular group of students were talking in such an exaggerating manner, after all... with what Rook has told him and what he's heard from various students around the school it was most definitely about you.
as collected and uncaring as he tried to seem right now he could definitely feel worry and a kind of anger bubble up inside him. 
'could you really have left?' he thinks.
remembering what the headmaster said and all the bits of evidence he and Rook have picked up it seemed that it was certainly the case.
"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home! they felt too bad to tell you all so they just left." spoke the headmaster.
you really did leave without saying goodbye.
he couldn't completely blame you, as silent and busy as he was he obviously knew that his and the rest of the overblots and people that surrounded you were bringing you down. it's why he invited you at times for make-overs, spa days, and everything in between to at least brighten up your spirits whenever he could.
"I suppose all of that wasn't enough for you." Vil mumbled to himself as he aggressively thrashed both curtains he held in each hand inward to close off the view of the storm clouds from the sky, to stop those clouds from taunting him any longer.
that and because he couldn't let anyone from out his window see the mascara dripping down his face.
"Roi de Poison?..." his hunter spoke in a calm and hesitant voice, noting that this isn't exactly the time to try to make conversation.
and he was right "Rook!--" Vil seemed to have jumped, immediately yet carefully wiping his mascara-filled tears with a handkerchief on him. "what is so important that you had to come in without knocking??" he exclaimed as he has yet to face his hunter.
"Roi de Posion... there is something your eyes must see to believe." he seemed to take out his phone with an image on his screen.
"Well get on with it then!" Vil exclaimed before he finally turned to face Rook in dramatic motion, eyes still a bit bloodshot even from the few tears he had.
Rook carefully approached Vil, phone in hand, once he took one last look on the screen to make sure it showed what he wanted to show the hunter then finally faced the screen towards his dorm leader with hesitance.
it was a Magicam account, someone's most recent post...from yesterday..
it was Neige.
but.. wait... that person by his side.. it couldn't be--
why were you in Neige's Magicam post?
Idia:
dorm leader of the underworld Ignihyde, has not been sleeping as much as he should be. of course he's never slept well in the first place but it's just been getting worse since the ramshackle prefect has left.
currently Idia Shroud was looking for any digital footprints he could find, trying to track your location, trying to figure out where you could be. in the end it was all for naught since for the past week or two he's found nothing and basically has given up at this point.
he leaned back against his gaming chair and with a sigh of disappointment, he didn't want to accept what Crowley told all of the house leaders in his office. he knew that there's some kind of trace of you out there somewhere, he felt like it was up to him to find the person who bothered to give him the time of day and attention that he'd never thought he'd get.
the light from his screens were causing his eyes to become dry and almost bloodshot, each blink hurting his mind and his focus. that was until a notification came from his phone.
that's strange.. no one ever sends him messages unless it's in game.
he grabbed his phone beside his keyboard to read the message. how odd, it was from the noob Rook Hunt. what would the vice-dorm leader of Pomefiore want anything with him? nonetheless Idia was slightly intrigued yet annoyed, he pressed on the notification to lead him straight to the new chat with the hunter, it said:
"Roi de Ta Chambre, I do hope this finds you well. A little bird told me that you too have been wondering about the safety and whereabouts of our beloved missing prefect. I may have the answer to your worries here."
below the message was a link to a Magicam post under the name of Neige Leblanc. he's heard of the name but was never interested in the petty and do-gooder lives of any of the RSA students. he cautiously pressed on the link to show a photo, a photo of said Neige Leblanc posing with a familiar face... a familiar face that he now wished he didn't see.
it was you, you were with an RSA student...
"tch..." Idia grumbled as he threw his phone back on his desk before he stepped back out of his chair and walked over to his bed "why did i even bother."
he fell face first into his bed and hugged one of his long yet soft pillows tightly, tears quietly falling down on their own slowly, he didn't dare make a sound in case Ortho would come barging in. he continued to cry quietly now acknowleging that you truly did leave without a goodbye, and left with RSA students no less, and with how you treated him before you left-- he dreamed that he might've had a chance with you.
but he should've known, dreams are for rookies.
Malleus:
the dragon prince of Diasomnia was a strange case, unlike every one of his fellow dorm leaders he actually knew that you left by ship. where to though he had no clue.
he remembers that he came to visit you at late hours of the night at the ramshackle dorm like he usually does except he saw you sneak out with nothing but Grim on your back. he followed you walking down to the shore to see a large ship awaiting for a passenger and what shook him a bit more was that the headmaster was there beside the ship, expecting... you. Malleus watched in confusion as you gave your beloved fiery feline a huge and long hug and some shared words with the headmaster. he was about to teleport himself right in front of you when he saw you walk up the gangplank of the ship to hop aboard but he stopped himself when he remembered about your cast.
ahh yes, how could he forget. he gave you the broken arm, the cuts and wounds, he gave them all to you when he overblotted. he knew that you said you had a chance of going back home but he didn't think it'd have you to go by ship.. and without saying goodbye.
in the end he just watched you and the ship disappear, watched Grim slowly walk back to ramshackle, and watched the headmaster disappear on the spot.
for the next few days that passed he's been mourning the loss of your presence, he's almost casted spells to take himself to you-- to retrieve you and hide you in a tower with nothing but him to protect you... to right all the wrongs he's made. he'd bring you fresh flowers every day and make sure to keep you healthy and happy, he'd do anything to have you back.
but he should've held back, every other person who's overblot you had to deal with should've held back. the headmaster should've done his job. then maybe just maybe you would've been able to be in his arms that night when you left.
in the end he was the only one who didn't ever visit the headmaster for any information about you. he had no reason after all he saw you leave.
after he gets a grip on himself though, he will confront Headmaster Crowley for any information as to 'why' he let you leave.
right now all he could ask is why... why why??.. the more he felt stuck in his thoughts the more the storm outside worsened. at this point everyone could see how he's feeling, his entourage of three tried their best to comfort him but it was no use. the prince of thorns was stuck sulking, and he didn't know how else to stop unless you were back into his arms.
he's also been taking way too many naps now, strange to his three knights yet he knew he did this because every time in every one of his dreams he had you in his arms and walked beside you. he had you all to himself in his dreams.
he saw that this was a better solution than being awake.
(THIS IS SUPER LONG and I might've messed up here and there T-T hope it broke a few hearts tho! I tried my very best in each one of their reactions!<3)
2K notes · View notes
thewordypeach · 10 months
Text
Cream
Tumblr media
Cream (Milk)
pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 2.9k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, oral, titty sucking and titty fucking, (lactation kink), implied breeding kink, squirting, etc. summary: Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it - author's note: ummm … so this sequel had me questioning my life choices. like i do not know what possessed me to take it this far lol so you better blow it up like you did with ‘Milk’ 🤭 anyways, i hope you like it <3 xoxo the wordy peach
It begins with: “You’ll never guess what they’re playing at movie night,” 
You look at Joel, a single eyebrow raised. Joel wolfishly grins, his brown eyes sparkling, “Austin Powers and the Spy Who Shagged Me,” 
He watches as your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Joel can’t believe you don’t remember the conversation from last week, the one that had you confessing to him that you felt like one of those fembots from the aforementioned movie. He steps closer, head dipping to your ear, whispering: “Machine gun titties,” 
That’s all it takes for you to remember. And it has your cheeks flushing pink. Sheepishly, you smile at him. But, of course, the cock block herself pipes up: “The spy who what?”
Ellie, you spunky little shithead. You love her to death. You never want her to grow up. But lately, she’s been ruining your alone time with Joel. You know she just wants to be a part of the family, and she is. It never even crossed your mind to think otherwise. She’s the daughter you never had. Sometimes you wish she’d just go and make friends that aren’t you or Joel. 
You look at Joel, waiting for him to answer. But Joel is expectantly gazing at you. A playful smirk ghosts across his lips. He thinks it’s your duty to explain the birds, the bees, and everything between them to Ellie. Of course, she knows most of it. But she questions absolutely everything. Just yesterday, you had the unfortunate experience of explaining anal to her; Joel walked out of the house when she asked and didn’t return until later. 
You poke a finger into Joel’s chest, hissing at him, “It’s your turn,” 
His face goes slack before he gives you a sullen look. He pouts those luscious lips of his, “But darlin'….” 
“Don't darlin' me, mister. You owe me for yesterday,” 
Joel continues to pout but eventually relents. He turns to Ellie with a face void of any emotion: “It’s a classic movie from the 2000s,” 
“Yeah, but what does shagged mean?” Ellie asks. Her eyes look between you and Joel, waiting for an answer. Joel grows uncomfortable. He’s never been one to talk about this kind of stuff. 
“Yeah, Joel. What does shagged mean?” You ask. 
“It- it… it means…” Joel stutters and stumbles over the words. His face is turning pink. He looks flustered as he searches for the right thing to say. You’re enjoying him floundering around. In one great, big breath, Joel spills out: “It’s a British slang term for intercourse,” 
Ellie blinks at him several times as she repeats what Joel just said to her. She starts chuckling, “Shagged means sex?!” Ellie turns into a mess of laughter. She’s clutching her sides. It’s not that funny. But you like watching her have fun. It brings back the innocence and reminds you of childhood. You were young when the movie came out, and the world was ravaged by fungus a few years after. So you cherish this moment of hilarity. You rub your tummy and smile at how much fun you will have raising this new baby with Joel and Ellie -
You don’t make it to movie night because you’re busy with the nursery, and the thought of walking all the way to town hall makes you cringe. You don’t like going anywhere unless it is essential. You make Joel and Ellie do everything for you. There are still some things you do yourself.
You insist Joel and Ellie go. Ellie doesn’t fight it (she’s so excited to watch a piece of history), but Joel grumbles about it. He wants to stay and help. By helping, Joel means he wants to milk you. He can’t stop helping you, and it’s the only thing on his mind - Joel swears he even dreams about it now. However, there hasn’t been a single moment for him to help you. Tommy has Joel doing everything and anything, and between his brother and Ellie, Joel hasn’t had time for his new hobby. 
So, after he drops Ellie off at the movie (making sure that she is settled and making sure that Tommy will bring her home after), Joel leaves and makes his way back to you. He wants to spend every free minute with you, but more importantly, this is the perfect opportunity to do what he’s been dreaming of without any interruptions. Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it -
You hear him before you see him, and then you feel him. His arms wrap around your body, and he presses his chest into your back. You sink into the warmth, eyes closing and throat humming. His hands briefly touch your stomach before they find their rightful place. Joel cups your tits, placing each of them into his hands, and marvels at the heaviness. So full of his special cream. 
“They’ve gotten bigger, haven’t they?” Joel murmurs. His cock is already hard and straining inside his pants. Hell, on the walk home, the prospect of milking you had him almost cumming right then and there. 
“They’re definitely heavier,” Joel adds as he squeezes them. He notices you aren’t wearing a bra, and with one simple motion, he has his shirt on the floor (the only one that fits you). You’re facing him now, chest and belly exposed. The sight of you has him losing it. Joel feels happy and excited, and everything in between that. Joel can’t believe that you're his, and he’s yours. Nor can he believe his eyes because your tits are definitely bigger, and your nipples are already dewy with that milky nectar he loves so much. 
Joel groans, latches his mouth onto your right side, and starts suckling like a starved man. Your nipple is already stiff and responsive, and you feel the sensation of milk rushing through to meet your partner’s greedy tongue. His hand expertly kneads the pillowy flesh, expressing even more of the sweet cream that has him hard as a rock. Joel starts to breathe deeper and sucks harder, causing you to moan. 
Your fingers comb through Joel’s hair, and you hold him there because the pleasure of having Joel drain your tits is undeniable; in fact, the more Joel sucks and licks your nipple, the more your arousal grows. You have to remind him, “Joel…. We have less than ninety minutes -”
He grunts in response and moves his mouth to the other side he’s been neglecting. The feeling is indescribable, and you relish it. The relief Joel is giving you is insurmountable. But it also has you growing impatient with him. Your core is aching for his cock, and your hands travel over his body. You feel his muscles, thick and robust, beneath the plaid shirt. You need him now. 
“Joel,” Your hand drops to the bulge in his jeans, and you gently rub it with purpose. The friction makes Joel groan, finally lifting his head from your tits. His eyes are filled with a dazy lustiness that makes you fumble with your words. Still, it doesn’t matter because Joel is suddenly pressing his lips against yours and kissing you with an ardour that makes you forget everything you are about to say. 
You taste the substance that has Joel acting ravenous. It reminds you of cereal milk because it’s so sweet. You part from his lips, whispering, “Can I taste you now?” 
He doesn’t have time to answer because you’re already lowering yourself to your knees, planting them on the ground in front of Joel. With one hand, you pop open the buttons of his jeans and pull down the zipper. Roughly, you tug at the opening and watch as his thick, luscious cock springs free from its confines. At the sight of it, you lick your lips. Your fingers wrap around his length and slide over his stiffness. The movement makes Joel shiver, and when your lips finally touch his cock, a groan escapes from his throat.
Joel has been so concerned about making you feel good that he forgot to consider himself. Suddenly, you thrust him inside your mouth while twisting your hand down his cock. He quickly fills your mouth, and his hand grasps your hair in hopes of controlling you. However, he’s fine with letting you have your way right now. It’s been a while since you had the opportunity to please him; Joel loves how the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you’re so adept at sucking him off that his length doesn’t make you gag anymore  - 
Expertly, you glide your mouth from the hilt to the tip of Joel’s cock, coating it in your saliva. Joel’s eyes nearly roll into his head because it feels so fucking good. It’s the only thing he can tell you because he’s almost lost his mind from the bliss of your mouth sheathing his cock. You don’t stop until Joel gasps for air and asks you to stop. 
“Babe, babe, babe,” His voice is husky, and he roughly pulls on your hair. You gasp and gaze up at him with a thick string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. Joel quivers at the sight and has to remember what he will say. You wait patiently. Obediently. 
Breathlessly, he asks, “Do you want me to fuck you here? Or…”
Without skipping a beat, you reply, “Here,” 
Joel doesn’t need to be told twice and is quick to shed his jeans before he starts to help you. You lean forward onto the palm of your hands and watch as Joel goes behind and begins to slide off the sweatpants you’re always wearing. Not that Joel minds. He knows it’s the only thing that fits you because you remind him every damn day. Once the sweatpants are off, he tosses them to the side and stares lovingly at your ass. It’s so round and perky and panty-less. He’s genuinely surprised, and it makes him smile. 
He caresses your fleshy cheeks, asking, “Is this for me?”
Joel can’t see your face but can tell you are blushing. Sheepishly, you admit, “As soon as you left, I took them off - for easy access,”
“Oh, darlin’,” He swoons, “You’re so sweet to think of me,”
Joel pries your sweet cheeks apart and buries his face, his tongue immediately swirling around your puckered asshole. Mewls spill forth from your mouth, and you wiggle your hips, trying to splay them apart because your body needs more. Joel’s tongue slithers down, lapping the juice practically pouring out of your needy, swollen cunt. He licks and sucks with wild abandon, groaning at your deliciousness. He doesn’t stop until you are begging him, “Joel, fuck me. Fuck me with your big cock, please. Oh god, fuck me, already!”
He removes his mouth from your exterior and replaces it with his cock. He rubs and rubs his bulbous crown between your molten wetness, gliding it back and forth until it’s coated with your slickness. When he thinks it’s enough, he pushes into your tight cunt. At first, your channel is resistant. But slowly, your velvety walls happily start devouring Joel’s cock until his entire length basks in the warmth. 
You are gasping at the sensation of being stretched out. It’s almost too much in this position, and a small rock of Joel’s hips gives way to your first orgasm. Your vision swirls as a wave of ecstasy comes crashing through. Your fingers grip the carpet as your cunt swells and clenches his cock. Your back arches as you cry out, “Fuck, Joel,”
Immediately, he stops, thinking he has hurt you or the baby. Panic-stricken, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“N-n-nothing,” You stutter out, attempting to catch your breath. Your lungs greedily suck in the air, saturated with the smell of sex. You tell him, “You made me cum,”
“Already?” He murmurs and devilishly thinks about the five times he made you cum last week. Joel rocks his hips again, and you whimper at the movement. At a glacial pace, Joel pulls out before sliding back in and burying his cock to the hilt. You’re gripping the carpet and moaning like crazy. He’s sure the neighbours can hear you, which drives Joel forward. He wants them to know how good he is at fucking you. 
Joel grabs your hips, nails sinking into the fleshy bits, and plows in and out of your pussy. He’s pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in, ensuring you feel every inch of his girthy length. Your body is rocking beneath his, tits swaying like udders. You reach between your legs to touch your clit. It’s pulsating and yearning to be touched. You gingerly circle it, knowing a light touch is enough to send you over the edge. And you’re right because, within seconds, your second orgasm is rolling through.
You wail, “Joel, Joel, Joel,” but Joel doesn’t stop this time. He continues to youthfully spear your pussy and watches as your creamy juices coat his cock. Vigorously, you rub your clit because a third orgasm is imminent. Your back arches and your hips are high in the air, and Joel stops, pulling out completely, to watch as your pussy trembles with another orgasm. Your thighs are dripping with your juices, and his name still spills out of your mouth. Repeatedly. 
His hand squeezes your hip, “Mmm, darlin’. That’s your third one - should we slow down? Don’t want to hurt -”
“Need more,” You interrupt him, “Need to cum more, Joel,”
Joel shakes his head, “Darlin’,'' He knows you aren’t thinking straight, driven to recklessness because of the pure ecstasy that has raptured your body. You turn over, laying on your back. You splay your legs apart, and your pussy glistens in the light. It’s so swollen, so puffy. Your hand is back, and your fingers are working your clit. But from this angle, it’s a little more challenging because of your protruding belly. And it’s making you frustrated. Especially because Joel is just watching, not helping. 
“Joel,” You growl, “Fuck me,”
A single eyebrow of his shoots up, and you begrudgingly mutter, “Please,”
Much to your surprise, Joel moves. However, instead, he hovers above your chest and settles his cock in the valley of your tits. His hands squeeze them, and the milk for his unborn child sprays out, sprinkling across your chest and hitting his cock. At first, Joel goes slow, his cock passing between your tits. It’s a different kind of friction and holy hell… it feels good. His cock, slippery with your juices and milk, has him gliding through your breasts with ease. He grips harder and fucks your tits faster, rocking his hips back and forth. 
As he slips in and out, he milks your bountiful breasts in the process. He does it until you are soaked. He’s breathing hard, and his balls are tightening. He’s close, so fucking close. But he doesn’t want to finish like this because he knows you want more orgasms, and who is he to deny his pregnant partner? You have been carrying his baby for months, and it hasn’t been easy. And Joel knows that once the baby is born, you won’t be able to have sex for weeks. Not until you’re healed. So, why not let you live a little? 
He pulls his cock out of your cleavage and moves his face to yours, kissing you passionately. His tongue swirls and mingles with yours before he shifts down. Joel latches his mouth around your nipple and practically inhales a gulp of cream into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow and comes back up, kissing you again. Messily, Joel washes your mouth with your milk. It’s sweet and warm, and it’s fucking kinky as hell. It has you moaning into Joel’s mouth. He moans back, letting you know he loves every moment of it too.
As he continues to kiss you, Joel reaches down and takes his cock, sliding it over your puffy and sensitive lips before pressing it into your velvet channel. Your body welcomes him, and your mouth drops, gasping as you effortlessly fit his entire length . Once more, Joel explores your warm depths with a vigorous youthfulness. His flesh is clapping yours over and over until you are yelling his name over and over. Your hands are gripping his forearms, nails digging into his skin. 
“Mmm, Joel, mmm, Joel, gonna cum, Joel, mmm - fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your eyes roll back, and an unwavering fourth climax raptures your body. A euphoric release rolls across your body, and you undulate beneath Joel. He watches as your belly quivers, and he feels your cunt trying to expel him, and when he does finally pull out, a massive bolt of liquid escapes - he realizes you’re squirting. Something he’s only heard rumours about. He’s astonished by the amount of liquid that is coming out and by how long your orgasm is lasting.
Meanwhile, you are gasping for air, lungs greedily gulping it down. You have no idea what happened; all you know is it’s a big wet mess down there. You’re gazing at Joel, cock-drunk. Orgasm-drunk. Your brain is buzzing with satisfaction. Your fixation on cumming has been satiated. However, your partner is still rock hard. He still needs to cum, and he’s more eager than ever before. He shoves his cock back in, and the molten wetness has his cock quivering as his climax punches through, pushing him over the edge.
He doesn't warn you. He doesn’t have to - the damage is done. You’re reaping what he sowed. Joel shoots his seed as far into you as possible with a single thrust. His hands touch your belly, caressing the soft skin, and he pushes his cock even deeper, where he empties the rest of his balls. When he pulls out, his cum mixed with yours oozes out from your crease and pools onto the carpet beneath you. 
You dare to smile up at him, murmuring: “Thank you, Daddy,”
2K notes · View notes
sanakiras · 4 months
Text
TREAT YOU BETTER
PAIRING — lee chan x fem!reader
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WORD COUNT — 3.7k
SYNOPSIS — your boyfriend of five months has been treating you like hell, and one of your closest friends, lee chan, refuses to let it go on any longer, taking matters into his own hands.
TAGS — college au, best friends to lovers, cheating, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, mentions of reader struggling with low self-esteem, cheesy stuff, yes i did come up with this after accidentally listening to treat you better by shawn mendes, this didn’t turn out as good i hoped it would but oh well!
NOTE — first fic here. he looks so good in the wait m/v so i wanted to write something for him :D my beloved
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the slam of the door behind you rings through your ears. you try to wipe your cheeks dry, hoping you don’t look like the tearful mess you are.
your voice feels raw from yelling for the past hour or so. it’s been going like this for the past two months at least twice a week, and you’re exhausted because of it.
as the rain pours, you notice the familiar car driving towards you, bright lights feeling heavy on your eyes. you open the door without hesitation to let yourself sink into the passenger’s seat, taking a few deep breaths, all without looking at the driver.
but the quiet sobs escaping you are enough to give it away.
chan has his one arm leaning on top of the steering wheel, the other gently touching your shoulder to make you look at him, but you refuse.
“i’m fine,” you stutter out, sniffing from the cold, “really.”
of course you’re not fine. both of you are more than aware of the toxicity of the situation. you getting into arguments with your boyfriend several times a week, resulting in you calling chan and staying over at his apartment for a night, only to hear you make it up to the guy the next day when you weren’t even in the wrong to begin with.
“we have a different definition of that, then.”
“it was just an argument. we’ll work it out in a couple hours.”
“it’s not normal.” he says, trying to get it through your thick skull without raising his voice. “it’s not normal, baby.”
you sniff, trying to somehow get rid of the pain beating against your forehead. “he can be so mean, and then… then he’s so sweet again.”
chan wants to rip his hair out of his head. five fucking months of this have passed at this point, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. he’s not sure how to handle the situation the right way, either.
he’s been in love with you for years. years. since sophomore year in high school. it was never his intention to fall in love with you, nor did he think he would, but he did, and god did he fall hard. embarrassingly hard.
nevertheless, he was always too afraid to make a move. too afraid that you’d reject him and he’d be out of your life forever like he was never there in the first place.
but he’s grown up now. third year of university, twenty-two years old, longer hair, a leather jacket and a solid bunch of experiences. some great, some he’d rather forget.
and so five months ago, he’d finally mustered the courage. he was finally going to own up to his feelings and tell you the truth.
only for you to excitedly come up to him, telling him you’re seeing this guy. and it made his heart sink in his chest, but he pushed his feelings to the side for your happiness.
or so he tried.
your boyfriend treats you like shit. he was sweet in the beginning — they always are.
then the cracks in the façade started to show.
it’s not that you don’t see it. you do — but it’s difficult to leave when someone knows just how to keep you where they want you. every time you tell yourself you’re gonna break up with him, he sweet-talks you and says things can be fixed, and that going through a rough patch is normal.
but chan knows better.
he just needs you to know better as well.
it breaks his heart to see his favorite person let herself get hurt like this. he becomes a little more torn with every sob leaving your body, every tear spilling from your eyes.
he gently puts the buds of his fingertips on your chin and jaw, slowly turning your face to him so he can look you in the eye.
the tears are still quietly running down your cheeks, your face numb, now devoid of any emotion, ashamed to have him see you in this state.
“you’re killing yourself like this.” he whispers, voice laced with concern. “he’ll never make you happy.”
you sniff from your breakdown. “maybe it’s me. maybe i just need to stop giving him such a hard time—”
“don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
“please, chan, just… just go and get me somewhere else. all i need is some breathing space — please.” you beg him.
he wants to scream, wants to tell you to break up with him for good, wants to walk into that damn house and do it himself — but he can’t.
instead, he obliges, driving you to his place.
his cozy one-person apartment feels like the best place in the world to you — the one place where you can get away from everything else.
you watch chan as he locks the door behind him, then leaning against it for a moment as he watches you sit on the armrest of the soft chair. “you okay? want some tea?”
the corners of your lips curl up at the suggestion. he knows you awfully well. “that’d be great.”
his lashes flutter before he nods, kicking his shoes off by the door.
once he’s busy in the kitchen, you bite your lip as you recall the way he softly talked to you in the car, eyes trailing past the curves of his arms and the sharpness of his jawline.
he’s dated more than you have. not much in high school, but definitely during the past three years he’s spent at college. though it doesn’t surprise you. he has such warmth to him, with the beautifully infectious sound of his laughter, that big smile and some of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.
it wasn’t until recently you began to see him in a different light. whenever you saw him with a new girl, arm around her waist or over her shoulders, you secretly imagined yourself next to him more than once. you can’t believe you didn’t take notice of how handsome he was before.
but you’re too much of a coward to tread over that line of friendship, too much of a coward to see if maybe, just maybe, your feelings are requited.
“wanna stay here for a while?” he asks, hoping you’ll at least spend the night here before you go back to your boyfriend, as you’ve done countless times before.
“yeah. don’t feel like going back yet.” you smile, trying to somewhat make light of the situation.
“then don’t.”
you sigh at his response. “it’s not that easy.”
“why not?”
“because i don’t wanna throw something away the second things get hard.”
“there’s a difference between hard and unbearable. your case is the latter.”
feeling backed into a corner, even though he hardly means to do so, you turn the topic on him. “you’ve had some rough experiences with past girlfriends too and you stuck around.”
god. if only you knew he ended up leaving them because he never enjoyed being with them as much as he enjoyed being with you. “you’d be surprised.” he mutters under his breath, pouring two cups of tea, making yours exactly as he knows you like.
when you stay quiet, he tries to think of a way to get it through your head that you need to break up with your resident ass of a boyfriend.
“can i ask you something?”
“sure.”
“what’s it going to take for you to leave him?”
the question makes you look up before using a tone that almost sounds like you’re scolding him. “chan.”
“i’m serious. he’s treating you like shit. you call me crying every week.”
“it’s just—”
“no, it’s not ‘just a tough time’. you know it isn’t.” he interrupts, jaw clenched tight but voice controlled. he will not yell at you like that piece of trash does. “he’s a controlling, manipulative asshole. it’s not gonna get better. if anything, he’ll just treat you worse in the future.”
“yeah, well, not all of us have people lined up.”
the words have left your mouth before you can comprehend it, leaving you to lower your head in regret. not that it’s any less true. to you, anyway.
“what, and i do?”
“don’t you?”
he’s not sure what baffles him more — you thinking that he’s got girls lined up to date him or you thinking that you don’t have anyone else out there that would be willing to date you.
“what’s this really about?” he sits down on the empty coffee table, facing you directly. “what does my dating life have to do with yours?”
“nothing — it doesn’t. i never said it did.”
“then why the comment about me having people lined up? which i don’t, by the way.”
the answer sits at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say it without looking away from him. “maybe not. but at least you won’t end up alone. i can’t say the same for myself.”
and there it is. the sole reason you’re still with the guy. your crippling fear of ending up alone, your heavy insecurity that makes you believe no one could possibly want you.
the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt — but he’d rather have you suffer through your first heartbreak than end up with someone who walks all over you like a doormat.
“please don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but if you think that low of yourself, you’re a little stupid.”
the comment makes you snort. “well, it’s certainly fitting.”
he wipes some of your half-dried tears away, his one hand remaining to cup your cheek, an alarmingly intimate gesture.
“aside from the fact that there’s nothing wrong or shameful about ending up alone... i need you to know that you’re worth it. you’re gorgeous and intelligent and—” he halts for a moment, in a way confessing his love for you, not caring how cheesy it sounds, “—you deserve everything you want. ‘cause you’re one in a million.”
fuck, has he always looked at you that lovingly?
his words catch you off-guard for a moment before you press your lips together. “as much as i think it’s sweet of you to say those things, you’re only saying them ‘cause you’re my friend.” you interrupt him, having made up your mind.
after which chan shakes his head, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “i’m saying it because it’s true. any guy would be lucky to have you in his life.”
“i don’t think ‘lucky’ is the term my boyfriend would use.”
“yeah, ‘cause he’s a fucking dick.” he immediately comments, adding the next part with a softer tone. “if you were with me, i sure as shit wouldn’t be acting like that.”
that last sentence catches your attention, and chan realizes what he just said, suddenly very aware he’s treading on thin ice now.
but it had to come out one way or another.
though you seem to be going along with his words, not showing any signs of being uncomfortable with it. “and who’s to say you wouldn’t break my heart?”
he sees the intrigue on your face and decides to lean in closer. “if i broke your heart, i’d be breaking mine as well.”
“i’m not convinced.” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, and chan feels his heartbeat quicken.
every rational thought going through his mind is thrown out of the window the moment he catches you staring at his lips. it’s enough for him to put his hand on your lower cheek and smash his lips against yours.
he kisses you like he always imagined he would. perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but he’s waited too long for this moment to care.
and you’re kissing him back.
you both get hot from adrenaline and arousal. his hands roam down your hips, but when you start pulling on the collar of his jacket, he finally has it in him to break the kiss.
“are you sure you want this? i don’t want you to feel pressured—”
“i’ve wanted this for so long, chan. take it off, please.”
maybe he should pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. you’re underneath him, lips swollen, gazing at him like he’s your whole world and more.
he leans down again to pick you up, ensuring you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist so he can carry you to his bedroom.
once he lays you down on the soft bed, you watch him take off his jacket and throw his shirt over his head, leaving him with his chest bare, elastic waistband of his underwear visible.
he’s a dancer in his spare time, but you know he’s been hitting the gym recently as well, and it’s paying off, noticing his bigger biceps and toned abs.
then he chuckles from the way you’re observing him, and that smile — that beautifully big smile is what you fell in love with.
one of many things, really.
you remove your basic long-sleeved shirt, exposing your skin before him, enjoying the way he’s looking at the black bra you’re wearing underneath.
you’re seated at the edge of the bed, at eye-level with his chest, which you kiss softly.
he follows your actions like a hawk, unable to keep his eyes off you. he proceeds to move your hair behind your shoulder, his right hand finding your jaw when he kisses you again, lips trailing down to your neck and collarbone.
his touches are slow and sensual. at the end of the day, it’s your first time together, and you both notice the pressure and tension that comes with it.
you’re both aching to touch each other more already, but it feels so much better like this.
he gently pushes you to lay on your back, hovering over you to kiss down your chest and stomach, smoothly pulling down your skirt before his fingers hook onto the fabric of your lace underwear.
“what’d you want me to do, pretty girl?” he asks while getting rid of your panties, looking you in the eye as he does it.
the nickname makes you shiver. “you can do anything you wanna do.”
“wanna eat you out. bet i’m better at it than that motherfucker.”
“not hard to beat when he never does it at all.” you mumble to yourself, but he hears it.
“are you kidding? has he ever even made you cum?”
you just give him a deadpan stare that has a hint of embarrassment to it, which is enough for him to know the answer.
just being aware of how bad that fucker treats you makes him want to prove to you that he can make you feel so, so much better. and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.
he wastes no time, spreading your legs so his tongue can get to work. you shiver at the feeling of his mouth on you, biting your lower lip to not squeal already from sensitivity.
“no. none of that. i wanna be able to hear every sound you make.” he says after taking your hand away from your mouth. “you can pull on my hair if you like.”
“do you like that?”
“yeah, i enjoy a bit of pain.”
that makes you giggle a bit. “you masochist.”
to which he responds with a gentle pinch to your skin. “keep it in mind for next time, baby.”
fuck — you definitely will.
your hands run through his soft black hair. you’ve locked your legs behind his head, hips bucking up a little every time he hits a spot that feels good, his warm breath and wetness of his mouth on your pussy turning you on like crazy.
chan is pretty sure he’s descending into heaven when he hears you moan his name for the first time. he doesn’t know how many times he’s fucked his fist imagining that sound.
so he adds a finger to the warm and wet mess between your legs, sliding in easily, biting his own lip as he watches your reaction to it. you’ve got your head thrown back, one hand fisting the sheets, the other still holding his locks.
then he moves to a second, and not much later he’s got three of his fingers pumping in and out of you, arching them a little to find the right spot, rubbing and sucking on your clit.
“does that feel good?” he asks, just a bit out of breath, which is nothing compared to the writhing mess that’s you. he keeps messing with the pace, edging you a little every time, making you go crazy.
“please, channie, please let me cum—”
“i will if you answer me, baby.”
you whine, nodding at him desperately. “feels s’good, so fucking good.”
“want me to go faster?”
“please. god—need you inside me so bad.”
even he can resist so much. you’re so good for him, so he increases the pace of his fingers, relishing in the way you start squirming underneath him, trying to push him away and pull him closer all the same.
then you pull on his hair almost violently, making him moan against your pussy as you hit your first climax in a long time.
and he doesn’t stop yet — only once he sees you’ve regained focus does he pull his fingers out of you, sucking on them to savor the taste right before kissing you again, your trembling body aching for him.
he only breaks the kiss to reach for the drawer in his nightstand, grabbing a condom out of it, getting off of you to push off the last pieces of clothing still on him. the realization of the fact that your best friend is about to fuck you after god knows how long finally begins to dawn on you, and it makes your heart beat that much harder.
once he’s slipped the condom on, you move your hands to his neck and shoulders, biting your lip when you feel him push your legs behind his waist.
you gasp when he bottoms out of you for the first time. his head is buried in the crook of your neck as he finds his rhythm, sucking at your sensitive skin, not giving a damn whether he leaves marks on someone that’s technically not even his.
yet.
“do you remember that time we went to senior prom together?” he asks breathily, not slowing down even a little bit. “you were wearing that pretty blue dress. god, i wanted to take you home that night more than anything.”
you remember that. it was just before you two graduated high school together — he looked so dashing in his suit. you’d even imagined kissing him underneath the basketball bleachers like some cliche rom-com.
“so why didn’t you?”
“was too much of a pussy to do it.”
you bring yourself to chuckle inbetween your moans. “that’s a shame. i would’ve let you.”
just knowing that his feelings are reciprocated turns him on. he lifts his head up a little, kissing the front of your neck, your jaw, your cheeks — everything, only halting for a moment when he fucks you just a little faster, watching the way your eyes roll back from pleasure.
your hands run over his strong back as he pushes in and out of you at a steady pace, your lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’re biting it.
he hisses and relishes in the burning feeling of your nails digging into his shoulder blades.
“chan—god, harder, please—”
“i know, baby, i know, i got you.” he breathes out, changing up the position by hooking your legs over his shoulders.
it hits the exact right spot when he fucks you again, harder and deeper this time, your hands desperately clinging onto his skin, teeth sinking into your lower lip until they're nearly drawing blood.
beads of sweat roll down his muscular back. he feels you’re getting closer to hitting that release, so he moves one hand down to rub your clit again, aching to see you fall apart underneath him.
“fuck, ’s too much, channie—” you whine, throwing your head back in the pillow for a moment.
but he shakes his head, continuing, knowing you’re close. “you can do it, pretty girl. cum for me again. i wanna feel it.”
and he discovers that begging you works wonders, because it’s enough for you to come undone, clamping on his dick, making it feel so tight that he spills his own release into the condom mere seconds after.
with a layer of sweat on your foreheads, he feels how sensitive you are when he pulls out. he throws the condom in the trashcan, turning his face back to yours and kisses your lips more softly this time.
“how do you feel?”
“a little worn out.” you sigh, proceeding to show a smile. “but better.”
“good. how do you feel about taking a bath?”
“sounds nice.”
chan can’t help himself and leans in to kiss you again. he’s already getting awfully used to this, but one issue remains. “i wanna be with you. i meant everything i said tonight.”
the sentiment warms your heart. he’s always had that effect on you. “i know. i wanna be with you, too.”
he nods, happy with your words. “you go on ahead to the bathroom. i’ll clean things up here.”
“okay.” you tell him, pressing another kiss to his cheek before leaving the bedroom, feeling utterly lovesick.
he shares your feelings — it’s like he’s reliving that exciting feeling of seeing you the first few days after he realized he was in love with you.
there’s something that pulls him out of it, though. a certain vibrating sound. what is that? he thinks to himself.
and after looking around the room, he discovers it’s a phone receiving a call. your phone, to be exact, sitting in the back pocket of the jeans you discarded earlier.
the screen of your cellphone lights up, and he picks up the device, about to let you know someone’s calling — but his voice gets caught in his throat when he notices it’s the asshole who made you cry in the first place.
scoffing to himself, he taps the red button and declines the call.
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thank you for reading. x
® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.
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autisticlancemcclain · 3 months
Text
this is how it continued
———
This is how it ends.
———
This is how it ends.
———
This is how it ends.
———
This is how it ends.
———
Lance tries for weeks to make it end.
The words crawl up like bile in the back of his throat. Keith, he tries to say, time and time again, we need to talk. And when he manages to push through the stinging burn and say them, breath turning to dust in his lungs, Keith crooks his finger under Lance’s chin and meets Lance’s eyes and replies, just as quietly, Of course, sweetheart. What’s wrong?
And every time Lance is faced with the softness in his dark eyes, the steady way he holds his gaze. And every time something inside him cracks, desperate and howling and selfish after being deprived so long, and his bravery dries up like a tiny stream in the summer heat. And instead of saying When did you start loving me, Keith, ‘cause you woke up one day and decided we’d been together for ages and everyone thinks you’re crazy his chin trembles and his eyes burn and he cries, again, and tells Keith of the months without him.
Every day I’m sorry I left you behind, Keith whispers into the heat of Lance’s skin, and every time in response Lance knows, I do not deserve this from you. And the desperate howling selfish part of him grows stronger and stronger.
Lance needs to make it end.
———
He cannot make it end publicly.
It’s too…messy for that. It has been too long now. He hasn’t counted the days but he knows what it looks like right before Keith screams himself awake, now, knows how to press his cold hands to the side of his neck and the curve of his ribs to startle his dream-self into thinking kinder thoughts. He knows how the chip on Keith’s right front tooth feels on his tongue, his knuckles, his shoulder. He knows that Keith showers with his eyes shut out of years of habit of showering in the dark and fearing the sting of the soap.
Rarely do they stop at a hotel. Usually they sleep in shifts, staying in space for days at a time instead of resting every night. It’s horrible and cramped and makes everyone cranky, but it brings them home faster. After everyone is fed up of air travel, which never takes long, they often stop somewhere small and uninhabited and out of the way – a moon, a burgeoning planet, a long-abandoned one. Whatever is closest. On those nights, the nine of them, plus the animals, will stretch and enjoy the fresh air, if there is any, maybe watch a setting sun. And then they will make a fire and cook rations or a real meal, if they can find ingredients and Hunk or Lance have the energy. And after everyone has eaten and conversations have long begun to slow, after teeth have been brushed and faces have been washed, after their friends have nodded off one by one, Keith will push their bedrolls together to make one, spread a blanket over the two of them, and hold Lance close; without question, without hesitation. And he will be out in moments, gently snoring along to whatever alien crickets are crooning into the night, and Lance will trace the shape of his face under the light of the dying embers and forget to be guilty. He will feel safe in Keith’s hold like he does not feel anywhere else and his feet will be warmed between Keith’s thighs. He will fall asleep with a smile on his face.
———
Five months into their journey, Coran says: “I have an announcement to make.”
“What’s up?” Pidge asks, swinging her feet from where she sits sideways in her chair, hair a mess, face buried in the not-quite-DS they found a few planets back. Lance smiles and rolls his eyes.
“In the next quintaint, we will be approaching Deruyn. The Deruy were close friends of the Alteans, eons ago, and the Chancellor has extended to me an invitation to reacquaint ourselves. If you’re all amenable, my dears, we have been invited to stay in the guest wing of her royal quarters for a week.”
Lance straightens up, rubber band ball he was toying with slipping from his grasp. He hears it bounce several times behind him before an abrupt stop, and then a very angry moo. He winces.
“Sorry, Kaltenecker.”
She huffs, clearly still miffed.
Everyone is talking over each other, eyes bright and excited through their video connections. Coran looks pleased, watching them all chatter. Lance catches his eye and smiles at him.
A whole week in a royal wing…and a real royal wing! Nothing like the paladin quarters they lived in on the Castle. They bedrooms will be huge, probably; fancy and ornate. Maybe a canopy bed and pillows comfier than Lance can even fathom.
And baths. Lance hopes there are big, deep baths he can almost swim in.
“You look dreamy.”
Keith’s amused voice startles him out of his daydreaming, although he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. Everyone else is still chattering on, bubbling with excitement — no one is looking at him.
“I am,” Lance admits. He puts a hand to his forehead and sighs, more dramatically than necessary, pleased when it brings the expected reaction of Keith’s fond little smile. “There might be baths, Keith. Real baths. And oils and soaps and soft towels. And pillows! And a queen-sized bed!”
Keith’s smile turns teasing. “What you need is an Alaskan king.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Keith’s laugh has gotten rumblier since his space whale growth spurt, that’s the only way Lance can explain it. It’s softer and darker and suggests smile lines around his eyes he didn’t have before. Every time Lance looks at them he imagines them getting deeper and wider.
“Been a while since we’ve been somewhere with a real bed, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Gotta make sure they don’t book us two separate rooms again,” Keith huffs, crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I still don’t know what that was about.”
Lance’s mouth goes dry.
I do, he should be saying. I know exactly why there were two separate rooms booked for us. In fact I can guarantee it will happen again.
But he is a coward. And the words die somewhere in his belly, before they can come anywhere near his throat.
———
It takes time to reach Deruyn. Some of this is because Shiro read the map backwards and set them back two days. (“I’m dyslexic!” he had defended, to their booing and whining. “There is not booing and whining to dyslexia! Do you boo and whine a lisp? No! Let me live!”)
By the time they finally manage to drag their poor, exhausted Lions to the sizeable planet, everyone’s excitement is so palpable Lance doesn’t need an emotional bond to feel it.
“Fresh air,” sighs Allura.
“Good food,” seconds Hunk.
“People to talk to that aren’t you fools,” agrees Pidge.
“A mattress,” Keith adds, and shoots Lance a wink.
Despite himself and rolling mess of feeling in his stomach, Lance flushes.
Coran accepts a call as soon as they’re within radio range, greeting a narrow-faced, pink-skinned woman who must be the Chancellor. Immediately they delve into a conversation that Lance doesn’t even pretend to follow. He recognizes Coran’s tone from the many times his mother would strike up a conversation with an aunt or uncle or any guest at all as they were leaving the house — this conversation could be hours long. His eyes glaze over, sliding away from his Lion’s display to take in the planet in front of him.
Deluyn is large, that much is obvious. It’s hard to scale something with such magnitude when it’s so close to your face, but if Lance had to guess, he would place it somewhere between Jupiter and the Balmera. It has no rings but the whole planet seems to glow, slightly, although Lance can see no clear source for it. The colours visible from orbit are entirely alien to him, so he’s not sure what is water, if anything is, but from the angry look of the planet’s poles, the dark green things are clouds.
What feels like a million hours later, but it probably only around fifteen minutes, there’s a click as the Chancellor and Coran end their call, and they are urged forward into landing. As they get closer to the landing strip, Lance notices dozens of children sprinting along the barrier, holding signs and flags and cheering. He grins, twisting his hands tighter around Red’s controls, hanging back just slightly from formation to give himself space to move. Then he yanks the controls to the side, feeling Red roar as she whips around in a tight circle, flames rolling down her back. The children jump up and down, fists raised, mouths open in shouts of joy. Several of their grownups watch with wide grins, too, necks craned to watch Lance spin around.
He pulls back into formation after a couple of tricks, sliding smoothly in between Black and Blue. His heart rate ticks up, and suddenly his undersuit feels tight, itchy. He squirms in his seat. When Shiro’s face pops up to relay landing instructions he flinches, and immediately hates himself for the hurt look that eclipses his friend’s face.
“…Lance?” Shiro asks softly, confusion lining his voice. He looks like a kicked puppy. Lance is a monster.
“I’m just jumpy, I’m just jumpy,” he assures, forcing a smile and holding it there until Shiro’s shoulders relax. “You know. So excited to see where we’ll be staying.”
“Yeah, me too! Coran even said they have this massive sauna they’re really famous for. I can’t wait. I miss what saunas do for my skin. And, plus, having our own rooms will be nice.” His excited grin turns sly. “Well, most of us will have our own room.”
Lance’s heart pounds for a totally different reason. “Okay thanks Shiro bye —”
He reaches to cut the connection but Shiro stops him, laughing.
“No, no, wait, I’ve got landing instructions. Their staff is limited so we gotta go one at a time, okay, stay in your Lion once you’re parked in case you need to adjust…”
Thankfully it’s nothing too complicated. Keith lands first, and Lance next to him, then Pidge, then Allura, then Hunk. Once they’re all parked and confirmed by ground control, they’re cleared it exit, none of them taking their time.
Well, everyone else disembarks pretty fast. Kaltenecker remains and stubborn pain in the ass as usual, and Lance is stuck trying desperately to drag an 800 something pound cow that has absolutely no desire to work with him. “Kallie,” he begs, tugging uselessly on her leash, “you dumb ass fucking animal. Please. I am begging you. I put up with your farts in the cabin for days on end, which has got to be shaving years off my life. The food I feed you could be better but in all fairness, I’m getting the same slop you are, so. Maybe cut me some slack.”
She doesn’t even moo at him.
Lance tries bribery.
“Say, you want good food? I bet they have good food on this planet. Nice, sweet, fresh grass. You love grass. You want grass? Please come on, Kallie. Everyone else has already left and I’m going to die of embarrassment if I’m the last paladin left, doing the walk of shame with his stubborn cow behind him. The jokes will write themselves. I’ll have to quit and join a travelling circus, and then who will put up with you? Remember that Allura wants to turn you into hamburgers.”
Clearly hamburgers were the wrong thing to mention, because if cows can glare, Kaltenecker does. She even has the audacity to huff her cow breath at him and drag them both further into Red. Red, who is a traitor, does absolutely nothing to help and is in fact laughing herself sick, loudly, in Lance’s mind.
“I shoulda left you in that damn mall,” Lance grumbles, not meaning it. He sighs and collapses against his cow’s side, closing his eyes. Just his luck. The rest of his friends are gallivanting about a fancy-dancy castle as guests of honour, and Lance is babysitting a methane machine. “I’m gonna have to sleep here tonight, aren’t I.”
“Well, I hope not.”
Lance yelps, jumping to his feet. Unfortunately, in his haste, his boot hooks around Kaltenecker’s hoof, and since she is still unmoving, he goes sprawling. Fortunately, Keith got stranded in a space whale for two years and took Prince Charming classes, or something, so he catches him.
“You’re such a nervous wreck,” Keith says fondly, leaning down to kiss him instead of letting Lance stand like a normal person. (Not. That Lance. Is necessarily complaining. But for prosperity’s sake, and everything, keeping a man in a dip for too long is just undignified, Keith, you should know that, you graduated top of your class from Fairytale University. So. Pull yourself together.)
“Am not,” Lance protests. He sighs as Keith adjusts his hold on him, patting around blindly until he finds the edge of Keith’s braid and undoing it. He slides his hands in that thick hair with a relish as soon as it’s free, making Keith chuckle (but, wisely, not say anything, because the one and only time he commented Lance avoided him for two days out of pure embarrassment).
“I sent the rest of the team on when you didn’t come out. Figured Kaltenecker was giving you trouble.” He meets Lance’s eyes and grins, dark eyes mischievous and sparkling, and Lance is seriously going to walk off a bridge because who authorized that, who, who approved the combination of big dark eyes and a crooked grin and a face that promises trouble. Huh? The fuck’s up with that. “Figured I could help.”
Lance manages to find a shred of dignity within himself and steps slightly away. “That’s great, Noble Kent, but last I checked you couldn’t drag an 800 pound heifer either, so.”
Keith nods. “‘Course not. Brought Kosmo. Here, boy.”
The wolf poofs to existence at Keith’s side, barking excitedly. He bounds up to Lance first, expecting his usual barrage of kisses and head scratches (which he gets), then gets all shy as he walks over to his crush. Kaltenecker looks over at him and no lie rolls her eyes, looking away again. Kosmo, however, is undeterred, barking happily before blipping them both out of existence.
“She is never gonna love you, dude,” Keith says, shaking his head.
Lance snorts, taking Keith’s offered hand and heading down Red’s ramp (finally). “Wouldn’t it be weirder if she did? I think we’d have to break them up. Like, ethically.”
“Could be a Donkey and Dragon situation.”
“Shut up. It ruins my perception of you every time I’m reminded you’ve seen Shrek.”
“You’re perception of me,” Keith repeats, musing. His right eyebrow twitches, and it’s too small to see at arm’s distance, but Lance knows a tiny scar ripples there, from when he was fourteen and got it pierced in defiance of Shiro. “What is your perception of me?”
Lance keeps himself steady. He puts one foot in front of the other and keeps his left hand held in Keith’s. There is nothing interrogating in Keith’s tone, he reminds himself, although maybe there should be. When he looks up Keith’s eyes are open and curious and something else he doesn’t know how to name.
“You’re honest,” he says quietly. He means to say more, has a list he could probably recite bullet by bullet, but he doesn’t.
“Honest,” Keith mutters to himself. “Huh.”
Lance swallows. He doesn’t know how he could possibly explain the weight to that. Keith is committed and brave and talented and beautiful. But more than that he is truthful. Does he see? Does he know?
An empty landing pad passes remarkably slowly when two people walk in silence. There are crafts of all kinds and tarmac upon tarmac. Eventually, though, they start walking somewhere a little more crowded; thin, reedy people resembling the Chancellor waving to them as they pass. Lance would stop to ask for directions, but the giant castle is kind of hard to miss, so they just walk in the direction of it hope their armour will do the talking for them.
Keith catches a richly dyed ribbon blowing by as they pass through a crowded market, trapping the fine thing between his fingers as it passes between them. It’s a strange and familiar colour, walking the line between indigo and deep violet. He glances around for a stall that might be selling them, and when he can’t find one, he turns to Lance and says, “Hold out your arm.”
Lance does. Carefully, Keith unlatches his vambrace, tucking it under his arm, then peels up his undersuit to lay bare his wrist. His tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly in concentration as he ties it among Lance’s dozens of string bracelets, right above his blue Moana watch still counting the hours back home.
“There,” he says proudly. “Looks good on you.”
Lance reaches up and kisses him until neither of them can breathe.
———
They know they will be teased when they finally meet with their friends at the castle.
“Let’s not,” Keith suggests, nodding at the guards who move to let them past.
“I’ll find out where our room is?” Lance says.
Keith nods. “Yeah, we’ll need that.”
“‘Kay, wait here. Don’t be obvious, or Allura will smell drama and come running.”
He’s jinxed them by saying anything at all — no sooner do the words leave his lips does Keith tense up, screwing up his face in an attempt to appear neutral but resembling instead someone who is trying very hard not to sneeze. Lance manages not to laugh, squeezing his hand once before darting off, choosing a random corridor and going with it.
Thankfully, he manages to find a person who holds a clipboard and walks with a purpose, so he assumes they know what they’re doing. Double thankfully, they do, and not only direct him to their rooms but press a labeled map into his hands. It even has a schedule on the back for mealtimes and room cleaning, which is something Lance totally forgot existed. He runs back to Keith quickly, careful to avoid the kitchen and the armoury — places he’s sure his friends will be.
Keith is earnestly inspecting a mounted sword on the wall when Lance returns. His nose is maybe an inch from the polished blade, probably less, honestly. Lance bites his lip to hold down a snicker and takes a picture, intending blackmail, but it ends up being the perfect shot — his hair is slightly wavy from the braid he wore earlier, and there’s a cute scrunch to his nose, not to mention his squinted eyes like he’s wishing for reading glasses. It becomes Lance’s background almost without him meaning to.
“C’mon, nerd,” he calls, smiling as Keith startles. “I got a map and someone is gonna meet us there with a key. I wanna check it out, get a move on.”
Keith does indeed hurry over. “I’m so glad they got it right this time. One room! No need to debate over it.”
Lance falters. He’d been so caught up in the excitement of the room and then Kaltenecker and then…Keith, he forgot. They’re not what Keith thinks they are, what Lance has been pretended to be.
“Right,” he manages, mouth suddenly dry. He desperately tries to shove the enthusiasm back in his voice, forcing his face into a smile when Keith looks back. “Right, yeah, that’s so much less of a pain.”
There is indeed someone with a key when they get to the room. The door is light, in both colour and material, and although his feelings are still heavy and conflicting, his excitement wins out. Keith takes the key, thanking the attendant, and a small voice in the back of Lance’s mind whispers this could be them some day, on Earth, with a key of their own. He does his best to ignore it.
“Ready?” Keith asks.
“Please oh please let the bed be bigger than Red’s cabin,” he responds.
Keith snorts. Slowly, out of what must be a desire to torture Lance, he slides the key into the lock and turns it. Lance doesn’t hesitate before shoving it open.
“It is bigger than the cabin!” he shouts, and wastes no time running up and onto it.
He practically sinks into the mattress, so soft it’s like it’s made of hopes and dreams. The blankets are the fluffiest things he’s ever felt in his life. And the space — he stretches out as far as he can, fingers to toes, and not a single limb comes even close to the edge of the bed.
The mattress dips beside him, and a hand slides along the back of his neck.
“This is you before you notice the big canopy.”
Lance lifts his head immediately. He fights back a very undignified squeal when he does, indeed, see a gossamer blue canopy hanging softly from the high ceilings.
“And the windows too, sweetheart. Floor to ceiling, like you like ‘em.”
Lance scrambles to his knees to check. They are. And the view is breathtaking.
“And the bathtub? Is it huge and clawfooted?”
Keith ducks his head, smiling, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll go check, you grandma. You take your armour off.”
He listens for Keith’s footsteps, waits for them to go from carpet to tile, waits for the “Yep! Claw foot!”, waits for the sound of rushing taps even though he didn’t ask, even though Keith didn’t offer. He turns on his back and stares as the canopy, inspecting the padded wooden roof structure from which the gauzy curtains hang, tracing its sturdy edges and even corners.
Keith makes him feel so warm.
He’s felt a lot of cold, in a lot of places, for a lot of his life. Part of it is the stupid anaemia that he gets to live with. Part of it is stuff he doesn’t like to think about. But Keith comes in with his warm hands and warm smile and stupid big warm heart, and Lance is thawed in every frozen inch of him. It’s good. It’s so good.
He wants it so desperately.
He comes when Keith calls, stripping his armour along the way. Keith is waiting for him in the bath when he gets there — and it is huge, close enough for them to both sit comfortably without brushing so much as a toe against each other, but of course Lance settles his spine against the curve of Keith’s chest the second he slips inside the steaming water. The room smells of sandalwood and lilac.
“You are so important to me,” Keith murmurs, seemingly at random, pressing his lips along Lance’s stretched neck, following the arch of it as he tips his head back to rest on Keith’s shoulder.
Lance’s breath sighs out of him, rising and mixing with the steam. He lifts a shaking hand to twine it to Keith’s, squeezing. Their joined hands are wet against his chest. Together they rise, up and down, up and down, up and down, with every shaky breath.
———
They giggle like teenagers, sneaking into the kitchen well after dark and well after most of the castle has finally gone to bed.
Neither has wanted to face the team’s teasing just yet, or even the team at all, really. Their room can’t be called a room so much as a small apartment — bookshelves lining the wall that Keith had been eyeing for hours, a massive wardrobe, a beautiful velvet sofa, even a small icebox. Neither of them have said it but it feels, implicitly, like their own little space, their own little commune, beyond the privacy of a hotel room. It feels like somewhere they could live. They’re billions of miles away from Earth and anywhere Lance could consider home, but it’s nice to pretend, and neither of them is ready to hop back into reality — or Hunk’s roasting — quite yet.
(It is not what Lance’s mind is pretending. In no world could they ever live in a castle like this. It is foolish to spend his time fantasizing about a future they will probably never have, a home they will never build. The guards stationed at every door should break Lance’s fantasy. But he has always been very, very good at pretending.)
“Just grab some of everything,” he whispers to Keith. “We have actual room cleaning, remember? We can have some dirty dishes, no one will mind.”
“There’s certainly space for it,” Keith agrees.
In minutes the two of them have piled almost more than they can carry. They’re much slower on the walk back, but no less giddy. As soon as the door is locked shut behind them, they’re sat on the bed, even though eating on a bed is disgusting and usually Lance would never permit it, and stuffing their faces.
“Oh my God, this thing tastes like strawberries. Here, try.” Keith holds up a juicy looking silver fruit, Lance leans over to bite it. It does taste like strawberry. He dusts off his hands and crawls over to chase the taste off Keith’s tongue.
“Strawberries get you going?” Keith mumbles, and Lance grins and says, “Something like that.”
They have more food than they can possibly eat and they eat until they can barely move. The rest they wrap up and stick in the icebox.
He can feel Keith falling asleep, head getting heavier, so he pats him gently on the hip and whispers, “Come on, get up, at least get ready first. Wash your face.”
Keith groans. He squishes his face further into Lance’s belly, making him squirm and laugh, and mutters something he can barely here. “Hnnngh. You first. I’ll catch up.”
“You’ll fall asleep,” Lance scolds, but he gets up first anyway. When he glances behind him he sees that Keith has at least managed to put one foot on the ground, so maybe he really will get up and put some pyjamas on.
Lance snorts. Yeah, right.
He takes his time and pokes around the bathroom, having been too preoccupied to do so beforehand. There’s a stack of fluffy towels and cloths on a shelf, and even a couple rough ones for exfoliating. In a cupboard lies dozens of soaps and oils and creams and a million other things, labelled in that same holographic translator stuff the Olkarions use so Lance can read them easily. He is impressed by the wide range of selection — he’s been slowly rebuilding his skincare collection, and will indeed be looting at least half of these bottles to complete it. There’s enough stuff here to do a whole soak. Nice.
Then he turns towards the sink. And he stares.
And he starts to cry.
Laid out exactly as he likes it is his stuff from his pack. His toothbrush, his primary face wash, his hair brush, his lotion, everything. In order of how he uses it, with the sink in the middle, and everything an appropriate distance from the sink so he doesn’t soak the whole counter trying to reach for whatever comes next in his routine. A setup his has perfected over many years and has had genuine conniptions over misplaced steps and wrong orders. Something inane and stupid and that only matters to him.
Of course Keith has noticed, of course Keith has memorized, of course he has replicated.
Lance is a horrible, horrible person.
This is has to be how it ends.
“Keith!” he shouts, and the man comes in running, half groggy and robbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s in a t-shirt and boxers.
“Lance?”
“My brush is — in the wrong place.”
Keith inspects him carefully. “You’re crying.”
“Because the brush is in the wrong place! I keep it in the same spot, I like it here, you know I like it here, why is it —”
He interrupts himself with a great, heaving hiccup, so large it shakes his whole body, and he’s furious with himself, with his shaking hands, with the careful look on Keith’s face.
This is how it ends.
This is how it ends.
This is how it ends.
“This is not where my brush goes,” he insists again, desperate to keep his voice steady, desperate to make it angry.
“Okay,” Keith says simply. He walks over and pulls the brush gently from Lance’s hands. “Where do you want it?”
Lance tries to breathe in. His chest shakes and shudders, poking holes in his voice. This isn’t working. Why isn’t it working?
“No, you’re supposed to — I’m being unreasonable.”
“You’re upset about something.”
“Something stupid.”
“Okay. I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”
“No, you can’t — I’m not —”
The rest of his strength leaves him.
This is how it ends.
This is how it ends.
Why can’t he make it end.
Slowly, Keith reaches out to grab his hands. Lance lets him, like the coward he is.
“Come to bed, sweetheart. You’ve had a long day. You need to sleep.”
“Okay,” he whispers, defeated, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps them shut as Keith guides him to the giant bed, as he pulls back the covers, as he crawls in and waits for the sound of the light switch to be flicked off, of the tiny creak of Keith’s weight as he joins him.
For a long moment Keith is quiet. Long enough that Lance would assume he’d fallen asleep, except that he still sits upright, except that his hand has slid under Lance’s shirt, and his thumb traces a line across the small of his back, over and over again.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he whispers.
A new tear slips hot down Lance’s face.
This is how it ends.
He knows, or at least he must suspect. Maybe he realized his mistake some time ago, and has been waiting for Lance to fess up, to explain why he went along with Keith’s mistaken affection in the first place. Why he used Keith, confused as he was, for his own selfish needs.
“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. He can’t bring himself to turn around, to sit up, to meet Keith’s eyes.
Keith’s hand doesn’t so much as twitch. “What for?”
“For leading you on.”
That certainly gives him pause.
“Leading me…on?”
“Yeah.” Lance sniffles, dragging himself upright and away from Keith’s affectionate hands, huddled against the massive headboard. “You came back…confused. I don’t know. You thought we were in love. I wanted it, so I let you. I’ve been manipulating you.”
“Lance…” Even only in the silvery blue moonlight streaming in from the windows, Keith’s face is unmistakable, obvious; strong brow creased in worry, head tilted in confusion, face pulled with something like desperation. “Lance, we are in love. Aren’t we? I love you. And you love me, I know you do.”
Lance shakes his head. His tears make his face crumple and he knows how ugly that makes him look, so he hides his face.
“No, I made you feel that way, I didn’t correct you back then and it’s habit now so…”
He trails off. Keith doesn’t respond. He wonders if he’ll stay the night, bed surely big enough for him to sleep without touching Lance at all, or if he’ll have to go get a new room.
A tiny, tiny part of Lance’s brain recognises the irony in that and wants him to laugh. But the steady breaking of his heart keeps it at bay.
“…Back at the tarmac,” Keith says what feels like hours later, startling Lance out of his skin. He looks up at the man with wide eyes, having half-convinced himself he was already gone, and Keith meets his gaze determinedly. “Back at the tarmac, you said I was honest. Did you mean that?”
Lance swallows.
“Yes.”
Keith holds his gaze, looking for something, then nods, having found it. “Believe me then, sweetheart.” He crawls forward, slowly, as if he is afraid Lance will startle away from him. That fear is what startles Lance out of his stupor, out of his guilt, out of the dread that has been building in his stomach for months. He hasn’t seen that kind of fear — the fear of getting too close — on Keith face since he came back. And never does he want to see it again. He throws himself into Keith’s arms, too hard, hard enough to hurt, but Keith catches him and holds him and squeezes just as painfully tightly. “I love you, star of my skies.”
“That’s cheesy as hell,” Lance croaks, and Keith laughs, wetly and beautifully. “I love you too.”
“Good.” Keith kisses the top of his head. “Good.” He exhales, long and shuddering; relieved. “God, I spent two years waiting for this exact moment.”
The statement strikes Lance as odd. “This exact moment.”
Keith tenses. Lance tenses, too, and immediately he relaxes again, breathing steadily until Lance matches him.
“On the space whale, time was…stretchy.”
“You mentioned.”
“Two years I lost.”
Lance tightens his hold. “I know.”
“Most of it was survival camping, really, but there were these visions, sometimes. For Krolia and me. Our pasts. You guys, in the present.” He takes a breath. “Our future.”
Somehow, Lance gets the feel he’s not talking about his and Krolia’s.
“Our future?”
Keith’s breath tickles his neck. Lance doesn’t dare move. Goosebumps pimple his skin and he lets them, shivering, warmed.
“Yes. So much, all the time. More than anything else we saw. Just — tiny snippets, here and there; your face when you sleep, your fingers on a bow, you dragging me on a surfboard and a million other places I woulda followed you to anyway.”
One of his hands slides down Lance’s ribs, fingertips light enough to make him shudder, and rests, cupped open at his hip. “I saw this,” he admits. “Not — the whole conversation, or why, but my hands on you, in this bed, in the moonlight. It kept me going.”
Lance closes his eyes and tries to imagine. Stuck in a strange place where days don’t seem to pass with a stranger who claims to be his mother, watching visions of himself in the future, over and over again.
“No wonder your head was all wonky.”
“Yeah.”
“You’d already been with me. For two years.”
“For twenty. Thirty. Seventy.”
“…That’s a long time, Keith.”
“God, I hope so.”
Lance smiles. “You gonna stick with me that long, hotshot?”
“Like glue, darlin’.”
Lance looks up and, sure enough, Keith’s eyes are closed, face slack. He’s clinging onto consciousness with every bit of strength in his body, things like keeping his accent in check losing priority. Lance settles again against him, guiding them gently so they lie comfortably against the pillows, and breathes out, slow and long.
“Tell me about our future.”
“House on th’beach,” Keith murmurs. His words are slow and pulled apart. “Stone’s throw from your mama’s.”
Lance traces sleepy circles on his skin.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Little boy with hair like yours followin’ every little thing you do.”
His breath hitches. He hadn’t thought about that — hadn’t let himself think about it. It’s dangerous, for more than one reason.
But tonight they’re safe. Under the silvery moonlight, with a bed three times bigger than they are, nothing can touch them.
“What about a little girl with your smile?”
“You got it.”
Lance’s smile is warm and giddy, tucked into Keith’s arm, etched there like it’s permanent. “Good. Goodnight, mi alma.”
“Night, baby.”
This is how it stays, forever and ever and always.
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