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violetlilysunshine · 3 years

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Late Night

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Chris working in a bar, before he invites you to his house after closing.

WC: 3,525

Warnings: maybe a quick make out?? idk if I need to warn that, but better safe then sorry. Fluff, fluff, fluff

A/N: I’m sort of feeling a part two, because I’ve been in such a fluffy turned smutty mood recently. Anyone down?? Lemme Know :)

Tagging the lovelies that wanted this! @maximeevansblog @saltyflowermakertaco

MASTERLIST

You’ve been working in this small bar for years now; it mainly catered to older folks, the owners having fallen in love with the 40s and 50s and themed their bar after that. You quickly fell in love with the decades as well, hearing the old music and seeing all of the older people’s faces light up, reliving their glory years. However, usually, there were a couple younger groups there to relish in the theme a bit.

You started as a waitress at 18, trying to work your way through college. Quickly, you moved up to bartender, before one slow night when you randomly decided to sing along to one of the songs that the Thursday night live band always played. They were a pretty good group, and you soon found yourself listening to the songs they played in your free time. After you sang with them, the owners decided to add you to the regular Thursday night entertainment, still bartending on other nights.

You were nearing the end of your set, just two more songs to go before you could take off the heels you had ridiculously decided to wear tonight. They were very 50s and you loved the look, but, carelessly, you hadn’t broken them in yet. You thought you would be fine, but your typical little dance during Fly Me to the Moon had suffered greatly. However, they matched your midi-navy-polka-dot dress and your pin-up style curls, so it wasn’t a total loss.

“Alright everybody, we’re getting close to that time of the night,” you hummed into the microphone, “for this next one we’re gonna slow things down a bit. To those of you I’ve been watching sit in your chairs all night, you’ve only got two more chances to ask your ladies to dance. Even if you don’t know how, ask her anyway, she'll love it.” you joked.

The band started to play Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder, a personal favorite of yours.

“And remember, if anyone needs a partner, I’m ready and willing,” you joked as the intro played. Quite a few times, older men who no longer had a partner took you for a spin for a song or two and you loved it.

You hummed a bit before you started singing along.

As you were singing, you watched a few of the younger guys in the back finally bring their girls out on the floor. Smiling as you watched them, you swayed back and forth.

You kept going with the song, almost at the end, glad that someone hadn’t asked you to dance, because your feet were really killing you.

You finally finished it off, earning a small applause as you twirled with the mic.

“Alright y’all, last song of the night and you know what that means as well,” you spoke to the crowd, “last call for alcohol,” you sang out.

You pointed back at the bar, and your friend who was tending tonight, before she waved at the group. A few people left the dance floor to get a drink as you continued your end of the night spiel, “fellas still sitting by themselves, last chance to take a spin on the floor. I see you still sitting there in the back! It’s a short song, I promise,” you chastised the last table you saw still sitting there.

Two couples from that table got up to dance, leaving one man sitting by himself. You felt kind of bad for turning everyone’s attention to him, but you had offered earlier to dance if anyone needed a partner, so the ball was in his court.

You signaled to the band to start up and spoke, “alright here we go,” into the mic.

It’s Been a Long, Long Time kicked off, and you instantly swayed. The band didn’t usually play this song, but after your Marvel obsession kicked in, you convinced them to add it to the set list.

You sang away, loving life, but your eyes didn’t leave the man in the back. He was obscured by shadows - probably purposefully - but you felt drawn to him already. Something about him sent tingles down your spine.

Before you knew it, the song was over. You took a small bow before turning and pointing at your band, getting the audience to applaud them individually.

“Thanks everybody, have a good night and drive safe. Hope to see you next week!” you spoke quickly and everyone filed off the dance floor to collect their things.

“Thanks, you guys, that was a good show!” you spoke to the band before you rolled up your mic cord and packed it away backstage. As soon as it was safely in its case, you took a seat on one of the saxophone cases and started rubbing your feet.

Soon, the band came back to put their instruments away and you reluctantly gave up your seat. You headed to the bar to sit with your friend while she finished cleaning up; this gave you a chance to rest your feet a little more before attempting to maneuver yourself home.

You glanced around the room quickly and everyone had cleared out except the back table. They were all standing, putting on jackets, and just beginning to file out the door. The couples went first hand-in-hand, followed by the single man. You looked back at your friend and began to make small talk about the next night, seeing as you were off, before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“That was a great set,” the man spoke out in a low raspy voice, “I wish I had a dance partner.”

“Thank you, but if I remember correctly, I did offer to dance with anyone. Anyone included you, Chris,” you quipped back lightly, chuckling.

“Well, doll, the way you were stumbling about up there, I didn’t want to risk it,” he joked back, “and you know who I am?”

“I’m gonna head in the back to finish cleaning up and then we can go,” your friend spoke, gently tapping your forearm. You usually carpool to work because you live a few houses down from each other and it just makes sense.

“Alright, sounds good,” you answered her before turning back to Chris, “well I did just sing Steve and Peggy’s song. I wouldn’t be doing it justice if I didn’t know at least its major history. And I don’t think I was stumbling.”

“Okay, fair,” he answered, “maybe stumbling wasn’t the right word, but I can tell your feet hurt in those shoes.”

A small silence settled between the two of you as you got lost in his eyes, barely registering what he had said. His lips curled into a small smile as he gazed back. His eyes darted from yours to your lips for only the slightest second, before wandering down to your feet, which you were rolling slightly on the leg of the barstool, attempting to massage them a little. He looked back into your eyes again, his smile growing. The tension in the room rose quickly, and you began to get a little hot under his gaze. You were wondering how you ever got so lucky to have Chris freaking Evans looking at you like that.

“I’d offer to get you a drink, but you did say last call a little while ago,” he spoke slowly.

“That I did,” you answered, “maybe next time.”

“Or, I could take you somewhere else,” he offered lightly, his voice raising in pitch.

“Hmm, I don’t know if my feet are up for it,” you said softly, “and I don’t know where else we would go on a Thursday night. Everyone is probably announcing their own last call.” You were surprised by your own confidence in front of him. You had no idea how you were keeping it together, let alone flirting.

“Another option,” he suggested, “I could offer you a nightcap at my place. Or maybe coffee? A glass of wine?”

“Eager there are we?” you quipped.

“Well, what can I say, that last song did it for me,” he chuckled, “but really, it would be totally casual, no expectations.”

You thought for a moment, weighing the options. He probably wasn’t a murderer, or a kidnapper. He was probably one of the gentlest guys you could go home with, and lord knows you’ve taken a few risks with others.

“Totally casual doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Really?” he asked, “great! Do you have a car here?”

“No, we carpool,” you said, gesturing at your friend who had just walked back into the room.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Actually I was going to head out with Chris,” you said, looking at him while you spoke.

“Oh, okay,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “well, I’ll lock up the front and we can head out the back together then.”

“Great,” Chris answered, his eyes never leaving you.

You slipped your shoes back on and stepped down from your stool. You grabbed your purse from next to you and turned to grab your jacket, which was no longer on the back of your chair. You looked up and saw Chris holding it open for you and you slipped your arms in, your heart swooning wildly. You smiled at each other and followed your friend out the back.

You hugged her quickly, whispering “I’ll send you my location,” in her ear. After all, a girl can’t be too careful.

You followed Chris to his car around the front of the building, where he opened the door for you before jogging around to the driver’s side.

His car was nice, as to be expected, but not flashy and you enjoyed his modesty. It smelled freshly cleaned - a big plus - but also rode incredibly smoothly. You were more than content to drive around with him, listening to pop songs and belting out musicals, but before you knew it, he was pulling into his driveway.

He got out first, stepping out quickly. You waited half a second, sending your location to your friend quickly. As you were reaching for the door handle, it was being pulled from the outside. Always a gentleman, he is.

Chris flashed you a charming smile as you stepped out, swinging your purse over your shoulder.

“This way, darlin’,” he spoke lowly, shutting the car door. His hand was quick to find a home on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the front door.

Once up the stairs, he crossed in front of you, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. The alarm on the wall chirped, signaling the opening of the front door. Chris quickly bent down with his hands in front of his knees, preparing for the impact. Dodger came flying around the corner having heard the chirp, and slammed right into his dad’s hands before jumping onto his dad’s legs begging for pets.

“Hey bubba, how you doin’?” Chris spoke to his best friend, rubbing his ears, “this here is Y/N, be nice to her buddy, no jumping.”

Dodger quickly took notice of you and immediately tried to jump onto your legs, a greeting you weren’t necessarily against, but since Chris said no, you quickly pushed your hand down and met him on the ground. He sat at your feet, immediately accepting your presence.

“He never does that!” Chris spoke, shocked at how quickly Dodger took to you.

“What can I say? I must be magic,” you joked and shrugged at him, making him laugh.

“Well let’s move out of the doorway, yeah?” Chris asked before closing the front door behind you.

Chris moved to the side of the hallway quickly; he kicked off his shoes and encouraged you to do the same. You happily followed suit, aching to get those damn heels off again. You sighed in contentment once your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, throwing your head back slightly, closing your eyes, and breathing deeply.

“That bad, huh?” Chris chuckled, waiting for you at the end of the hall.

“Oh yeah, I definitely have to get used to those before I try to wear them again,” you answered back.

“Well, follow me and we’ll figure out that drink I offered.”

You set your purse on the bench next to your shoes before following him into the kitchen. He strolled around the island, resting his forearms on the island.

“Take a seat, doll,” he encouraged you, gesturing to the barstools on the other side.

Usually you wouldn’t have obliged so quickly, offering to help him make whatever, but given the state of your feet, you hopped up quickly.

“Alright, so you have a lot of options, water as always, coffee, beer - my personal favorite - tequila, a slew of other liquor, juice, soda, milk, - which would be weird but whatever - wine, take your pick,” he said smiling at you.

“Coffee sounds good to me, to be honest,” you answered quietly. You would’ve chosen beer simply because it was his favorite, but you weren’t a big fan if you’re being honest.

“Coffee it is, gorgeous,” he answered, filling the pot with water and loading in the grounds, “milk, creamer, sugar, black? What do you like?”

“Milk and sugar would be good.”

“You sure? I’ve got peppermint creamer,” he coaxed you.

“On second thought...” you chuckled, taking him up on his offer.

“Alright, doll, peppermint it is,” he laughed.

Soon the coffee was ready and as excited to try the peppermint creamer as you were, you could’ve watched him flutter around the kitchen for days. He handed you a sleek navy blue mug, taking a red one himself.

“Shall we head to the living room?”

“Whatever you want, it’s your house,” you laughed.

“Alright, follow me,” he said, leading the way, “you too, Dodge,” he called over the island. Dodger had been sitting at his feet the whole time, watching his dad.

He settled into one arm of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to rest your mugs on. He placed his mug down and gestured for you to join him. You sat on the other end of the sofa, gently, looking over at him. He threw an arm over the back of the couch, kicked his feet out in front of him, and turned his body towards yours. Dodger watched you sit down and looked at you, almost saying “you’re in my spot,” before turning around and going over to his bed by the fireplace.

“How’re your feet doing now?” he asked you.

“They’re okay, it may take a few days to recover,” you laughed back, turning to face him as well. You held your mug in one hand, bringing the other to your foot as you swung your legs up at your side.

Chris reached over towards your feet, pulling them into his lap, “here let me,” he spoke.

You blushed lightly at the very domestic action, but who would say no to a beautiful man rubbing their feet? He massaged them gently and you let out a little groan.

“You really don’t have to do that, but you’re so good at it I don’t want you to stop,” you told him.

“Well then I won’t stop, darlin’.”

He looked at you from across the couch, making your heart swoon again. You let out the quietest moan, enjoying the work of his hands, and closed your eyes.

Chris laughed lightly, whispering something to himself under his breath. You were a little lost in the moment, so you didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked him.

“Oh, nothing, just talking to myself,” he answered. You knew that wasn’t the case, but let it rest anyway; it couldn’t have been too important.

Chris started asking you about your work and friends and family, what kind of movies you liked, and music preference of course. You asked him as well, really getting to know each other. He had stopped rubbing your feet a long time ago, but kept them in his lap, an arm thrown across them, rubbing your shins and ankles lightly. Dodger was snoring loudly across the room, and had been for quite a long time. The both of you were so lost in the conversation, that you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. You glanced out the window behind him, beginning to see the sunrise.

“Oh my goodness, what time is it?” you asked him, chuckling.

He glanced at his phone quickly, “almost 5:00,” he said with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said a little embarrassed, “I’ve stayed way too long, I’ll just get out of your hair.” You began to pull your legs out of his lap, but he locked them down.

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he spoke quietly, “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…” you trailed off.

“Positive, sweetheart. Please, stay.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. He nodded slightly at you. “Then I'll stay,” you said, settling back into the couch.

“Can I get you another cup?” he asked, gesturing to your mug.

“Sure,” you answered lightly, handing it to him. He got up and trailed into the kitchen. You waited half a second before following him.

Chris heard you walk into the kitchen, turning around to look at you quickly, “sorry, can I get you something else?”

“No, I’m fine,” you answered.

“Oh, well, uh… I would’ve brought your mug back to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh that’s okay, I felt weird just sitting there,” you laughed lightly.

“Oh, okay,” he chuckled back, “well, since you’re here now, can I offer you breakfast?”

You didn’t realize how hungry you’d gotten until he offered, “only if I can help,” you responded.

“Oh well, that’s a deal breaker, darlin’,” he answered, almost seductively.

“Well then no breakfast for me,” you laughed.

He was starving too, only having had a small dinner before he went to the bar last night. He didn’t know when you’d eaten last, so you must be hungry as well.

“Well, maybe there is one way, you can help,” he said in a high pitched voice.

“What can I do?” you asked quickly.

“Come here,” he said.

You walked around the island you had been leaning on, joining him between it and the cabinets on the wall. Chris extended a hand towards you. You took it quickly and allowed him to guide you closer to him. Once you were fully in front of him, he dropped your hand and grabbed both of your hips. He picked you up quickly, surprising you, before setting you on the counter.

You laughed lightly at him, “okay, now what?”

“Now, you sit there and look pretty while I make breakfast,” he chuckled out, standing between your knees, keeping a little distance between the two of you.

“Chrissssss,” you whine out at him.

“What, doll?” he asks, taking a step closer to you as you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“I can do more than just sit here.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, taking another step towards you, now standing between your thighs, almost flush to the counter.

“Yeah, I can,” you breathe out, barely able to contain yourself now that he’s slotted between your legs.

“Nope, darlin’, this is enough help. Promise,” he says quietly.

Chris glanced down at your lips quickly before looking back into your eyes. He ran his hands up your thighs, starting at your knees, before settling onto your hips again. The temperature in the room seemed to rise at an unbelievable rate as you stared into each others’ eyes. You could feel his breath on your lips, you were sure he could feel yours as well, the smell of coffee and peppermint radiated between you. He slowly leaned in and connected your lips.

It was like time stood still. He moved one of his hands around to your lower back, pulling your body to the very edge of the counter and flush against his chest. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, digging in just a little. You wrapped your arms around his neck even tighter as you molded your lips together. He licked your bottom lip slightly, asking for entrance, which you granted. He explored your mouth just a little bit before pulling back, breathless, and resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, that was, uh…” he spoke.

“Yeah,” you answered, breathless as well.

You held his gaze for another second before moving forward and kissing him once again. You pecked him sweetly, before mumbling against his lips.

“I’ll let you cook, as long as you let me clean up,” you laughed a little before connecting your lips again.

Chris let the kiss hang just a little longer than a peck before pulling back completely. He pecked your forehead quickly, before answering.

“No,” he said firmly, turning around and letting out a loud laugh, one you knew so well.

You laughed right back at him, watching him start to cook and shaking your head to yourself. How did you get so lucky?

#chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x fem reader #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fanfic #chris evans one shot #violetwrites

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

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Hot for teacher [1] > Bucky Barnes

PAIRING; Dark!Professor!Bucky Barnes x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 2,558

WARNINGS; Age difference, teacher/student dynamics, female masturbation, eventual dub-con elements

SUMMARY; You’re in your final year away at boarding school. There’s a new ethics teacher in town, and instead of helping you to straighten out your principals, he twists them all up.

NOTE; This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Precode Challenge. I chose the movie Madchen in Uniform from 1931, where a girl gets sent off to boarding school and falls for her teacher.

I’m not sure how many parts this’ll end up being, but I have a lot of ideas, lol. Reader is a smart ass in this one, but Bucky likes a smart ass. Hope you guys enjoy on this fine Saturday evening :)

☞ PART TWO | ☞ SERIES MASTERLIST

You tap your pencil against your open textbook absentmindedly as you glance around the room. Your foot swings wildly from side to side as your brain races. You take a deep breath. You’ve always loved and hated the first day of school. You hate it, because from the moment your alarm goes off on the first day of school, the anxiety and pressure sets in. The word perfect comes to mind. You have to be perfect - straight A’s for mommy and daddy and nothing less. You love it because it’s really the only thing you’re good at. You’ve been perfect for so long that you don’t know how to be anything else.

You always sit up straight. You always cross your legs. You always eat your salad with your salad fork and your dinner with your dinner fork. You say please and thank you after every interaction with another human. You are prim and proper and perfect - always have been, always will be.

You glance at the clock on the wall - leave it to the new guy to be late on the first day. You roll your eyes and let out another sigh as you continue to kick your foot out of boredom and anxiety. People talk and laugh around you but you tune it out as you chew on the inside of your cheek. You glance at the clock again - come on.

The door suddenly opens, snapping all of your attention toward it as a short haired, stubble chinned man enters, “Sorry guys,” he starts, as he moves toward his desk, “It’s not the first day of school unless I’ve set a bad example for you.”

Laughter sounds around you but you don’t join in. You blink slowly as you scoot to the edge of your seat.

“So, first things first,” he starts, sitting on the edge of his desk and stretching out his legs to cross them at the ankles, “I’m Professor Barnes, but I don’t want any of you calling me that. We’re all adults, right? I mean, you’re all almost eighteen, if you aren’t already. Call me Bucky.”

Bucky. You’re not sure why but a jolt of something flashes right through your body. Bucky. It’s oddly erotic. You sit up a little straighter (if that’s at all possible) in your seat.

Your eyes sink down his lean frame. He’s dressed like you’d think an ethics teacher would be dressed - a brown and beige sweater covers a striped button down dress shirt and matching tie. His legs are long in his brown slacks, the material hugging his thighs slightly tighter than they should. The outfit is capped off with a pair of brown loafers - the expensive kind - as he shakes his foot.

“I’m also not going to lie, I’m probably going to be late more often than not. I’m not a morning person.”

He chuckles after his admission and you groan inwardly. Your eyes squint slightly as you bring the eraser of your pencil to your mouth to chew on it. Your crossed legs start to sway to and fro as your eyes continue to move up and down his body. Your thoughts turn from straight A’s and extra credit to things that would make your mother blush. He looks like he works out. He looks… firm.

A short, dark haired girl lifts her hand from the second row and he nods towards her, “So, what happens if we’re late? Are you going to count it against us?”

He cocks his head to the side and bends his lips down before he shrugs, “What do you think I should do, Miss…”

“Amy, Amy Podkulski.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear, “I think as long as we’re here within a reasonable time, we should get a pass. As long as we aren’t taking advantage of it, you know?”

He nods slowly, keeping his blue eyes on her as she talks, “I think that’s fair. I mean, listen, I’m supposed to be preparing you for real life, right? For college and beyond - look, things are going to happen. People are going to get sick, they’re going to oversleep, they’re going to have car trouble. That’s real life. I’m not a hard ass. I like to think of myself as understanding, so, as long as you all are honest with me and don’t take advantage of me, an occasional tardy won’t bother me.”

You watch as several students nod and smile, already catching onto his casual vibe.

“That’s cool,” Amy Podkulski nods and you can hear the smile on her face, “Thanks Professor Barnes.”

“I told you,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s Bucky. Any other questions? Come on guys, I don’t bite.”

Your brain spins at almost a million miles a second as you chew on your pencil. You lift your hand slowly, a smirk playing on your lips as you come up with something shitty to say. Being a smart ass just comes with the territory you suppose.

Bucky links eyes with you seconds later and you almost gasp at the intensity behind them. You swallow quickly and clear your throat, regaining your composure quickly.

“You say that you’re supposed to be getting us ready for real life, right? So, how would you letting us be intentionally late, set us up for success?”

He smiles at you and pride swells in your chest, “Things happen. I’m not allowing you to be intentionally late for the hell of it, I’m being understanding.”

“Yes, but what supervisor or manager cares about what your morning is like?”

“Good ones.”

You shrug, “How many good supervisors or managers have you had?”

He smiles again, but this time wider - broader - showing off his perfect white teeth and the crinkles that form at the corners of his eyes, “Touche. What’s um, what’s your name?”

“I didn’t say.” You smirk back, enjoying this banter back and forth.

You’ve always tested your authority figures, trying to see if they can keep up with your quick wit and sharpness. You’ve dismantled a few, earning yourself more than a few tense classroom experiences, with one even having you switched to another teacher. This Bucky guy though? He’s good.

Truth be told, this is exactly what you wanted. Not so much to challenge him per se, but to have his full attention, all on little old you.

“Okay,” he starts confidently as he stands and starts to pace, his arms still crossed over his chest, “You think I’m being too lenient?”

“Not so much lenient, but you giving us the belief that as long as you're honest, people will both believe and forgive you. That’s just not true.”

“Interesting,” he nods as he continues to pace. He stops and cuts his eyes toward you again, “That’s a tad bit cynical, don’t you think?”

You shrug again as you feel the eyes of the rest of the students on you, “Maybe.”

“So, you don’t think that you’ll ever get the benefit of the doubt? That every single time you do something that’s considered a punishable offense, you should, but more importantly, you will be penalized? You think that is the real world?”

“That’s what society has shown us to believe, isn’t it? People get fired every day for being a few minutes late more than twice a month, aren’t they?”

He chuckles again, “Well if that’s the case, I should have been fired years ago.” Laughter rumbles through the classroom, “So you believe that you should be held accountable for everything?”

“Would I be taking ethics as an elective if I didn’t?”

He matches your smirk. He stares at you for a few seconds, his eyes dipping down your face slightly before he returns them squarely to your eyes. Your body is shaky and hot, your panties wet for a multitude of reasons. You’re a show off, and it gets you off when you get to parade your intelligence in front of an audience. You like a quick banter, you like knowing that someone can stand toe to toe with you on an intellectual level. You also like him. Bucky.

You’re going to touch yourself tonight.

If you can make it that long, that is.

“How about we do this, miss I didn’t give my name. How about I hold you, and only you, accountable for your tardies, hm?”

You shrug defiantly, “That’s fine with me, but, how are you going to do that if you’re not going to show up on time?”

His voice drops to a dangerously low octave, “Oh, I think you just made me a morning person.” Your lips part as you sense the slight edge in his voice, “Anything else?” He asks, quirking his eyebrow.

You shake your head, “No sir.”

The next hour goes by all too quickly if you do say so yourself. You could listen to him speak for hours on end. You’ve got almost six pages of notes - things scribbled in the margins, arrows pointing every which way. You currently sit with your chin in your palm, your eyes squarely on him, your blood rushing as your clit throbs between your legs.

“Alrighty,” he sighs, checking his watch, “That’s all I’ve got today. I’ll see you guys on Wednesday, okay? Hope you enjoy the rest of your first day back.”

You shut your notebook as the rest of the class moves around you, chatter instantly filling the room as the bell rings seconds later. You shove your book into your bag and stand, adjusting your plaid skirt before you move between the seats and down to the door.

A hand stops you - thick fingers and a warm palm wrap around your bicep. You turn on the balls of your feet to face the strong jawed Bucky Barnes. He looks just past you as the rest of the students file out one by one.

“I’m going to take this as a personal challenge, I hope you know.” He simpers, still ready and willing to play with you.

“Well, I hope you do, Mr. Barnes. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I can see that,” he winks. You catch a whiff of his cologne and it nearly bowls you over, “I look forward to this semester with you.”

You bat your eyes towards him and drop your chin as a small, soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “You as well Mr. Barnes.”

He lets you take a few steps before he calls to you again, “It’s Bucky.”

You stop, glancing over your shoulder, “I prefer Mr. Barnes.”

You feel his eyes on you as you pass through the door.

You’re not going to make it until tonight.

You check your watch quickly before you eye the sign for the girls bathroom. Seven minutes. You can make it happen in seven minutes. You make a quick b-line and push into the crowded bathroom, thankfully finding an open stall. You move inside and shut the door, slamming the lock into the small hole. You drop your bag to the floor - something you’ll ultimately regret later due to your germaphobic tendencies - and shove your hand into your skirt.

You close your eyes as your fingers start to move quickly, Bucky’s voice filling your head. I’m going to take this as a personal challenge, I hope you know. Your fingers dance between your wet lips, quickening as flashes of your excitement start to bounce through you. Your heart flutters. You can hear your wetness as you massage your clit, your hips starting to roll into your fingers.

Six minutes.

You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle a soft moan as your free hand slips into your shirt. You squeeze your breast before pinching your nipple to bring it to attention. You toss your head back as thoughts of Mr. Barnes’ beard scraping against your thighs as he sucks you off ravage through your brain. You shove your fingers into your wet cunt, pushing them in and out, in and out as you roll your nipple between your fingers.

You release your breast and slip your hand into your skirt to accompany the other. You rub quick circles against your clit as you fuck yourself in the stall, just inches away from the flood of girls that move in and out of the bathroom.

So you believe that you should be held accountable for everything? You grunt softly as his words replay in your head. You want him to hold you accountable all right. Bend you over his desk, lift your skirt, spank you like the bad little girl you are.

Five minutes.

Your stomach jumps into your throat when your hips hitch at the thought, your orgasm building faster and faster. You push your hips into your hands as your skin starts to prickle with sensitivity. A shiver runs the length of your spine as you work yourself over, trying to stifle the high pitched noises that squeak out from your tight throat.

Your muscles clench your fingers as they start to quiver from the impending rush. Your heart leaps into your throat, your breath quickens as your body tenses.

Four minutes.

You hum quickly as you focus on coaxing out the sweet orgasm you so desire. You bite your lip again, imagining that your fingers are Mr. Barnes’ - scratching, groping, fingering, pumping into your flesh. How he’d ruck your skirt around your waist, nibble on your neck and earlobe, whisper sweet nothings as he finger fucks you up against his desk.

So, you don’t think that you’ll ever get the benefit of the doubt? That every single time you do something that’s considered a punishable offense, you should, but more importantly, you will be penalized?

You cum with three minutes to spare. You grunt quietly, biting down on your bottom lip so hard that you think you might draw blood. Your cunt clenches around your fingers as your clit jumps with convulsions. You thrust your hips forward as it consumes you - your pussy squirting, your warm juices splashing against your thighs and the floor below.

You fall against the wall, rolling onto your back as your chest heaves. Your eyelids are heavy as you can barely see through the slits. You hum again as a smile spreads on your face and a giggle sneaks through. This’ll get through the day. Now, you’ll be able to make it until tonight when you can slip under the covers with your vibrating boyfriend.

Two minutes.

You clean up - wiping at your thighs and then the floor with some toilet paper before collecting your bag. You move out to the sinks and wash your hands, keeping your eyes on your reflection in the mirror. Girls buzz around you, applying makeup and laughing and talking as you dry your hands before smoothing them down your jacket and skirt.

One minute.

You throw your hair over your shoulder, take one last glance at yourself before you move out into the hallway. You hurry toward your next class, slipping into the large room and taking a seat in the second row just as the bell rings. You wait a few minutes until your trigonometry teacher is deep in his lecture before you pull out your phone, flipping to your mother’s number.

I need a new backpack… dropped mine on the bathroom floor.

#precodechallenge #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x black!reader #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky x you #you x dark!bucky #professor!bucky #professor!bucky barnes #dark!fic #dark!#dark!marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #avintagekiss24 #hot for teacher

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rockstar-angel · 3 years

Text

back alley blitz

summary: a few weeks have passed since their first meeting, and neither rose nor remy can seem to stop thinking about each other. rose finally manages to call remy, which leads to a brawl near the casino where they met last.

shippings: rosemary (rose x remy)

warnings: fight scene, cursing

word count: 2k

a/n: part 3 of the rosemary series!!! part 2 is here in case u missed it!!!

tags: @sealovinq @tuff-and-fluff @soulnottainted (if you wanna be added/removed lmk via asks or dm!)

This was her third phone since first trying to call his number. The first one, she hurled at the wall upon hearing his greeting; the second, she smashed on the ground after listening to him talk for a few moments; this time was the time she would actually talk.

Rose was holding the cellphone in her right hand, the card in her left. Her leg was tapping aggressively as she sat on the couch in her apartment, her thumb hovering over the dial button.

God, how did this happen. Why did this happen. She was supposed to kill him, and now she’s just hitting him up. Standing up off the couch with a noise of effort, she finally gathered the courage to hit the dial button.

When Gambit picked up, she blurted out what was at the front of her mind as fast as possible.

“What did you do to me.”

Gambit got yet another phone call. Usually he didn't get them since he changes phones often to maintain anonymity, despite being an attention hog.

He picked up his phone, and before he could offer a sultry "hellohello~" he was cut off.

He was stunned silent for a moment.

"I, uh... I'm sorry, who is dis? Yer gonna hafta be more specific, I've done lotsa things to lotsa people."

He said nonchalantly as he crossed his leg over the other and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He pouted in thought, face scrunched up as he tried to remember.

Rose bit her lip and held the cellphone away from her as she stomped her paw on the ground angrily. She then pulled the phone back to her ear, forcing herself to respond.

“I- I can’t… get you out of my head, you bastard, what did you do?!”

With that line, it clicked. Gambit smiled widely as his face flushed. He grabbed a card from the table and flipped it between his fingers happily. He didn't want to expose that he knew it was her though, otherwise she might hang up.

"Woooaah, no need to be hostile. Jus' looks like I've caught somebody’s eye."

He said, the smirk practically evident in his tone.

Rose rolled her eyes as if he could see her. “Yeah, no shit Sherlock, I can’t do anything without thinking of you.” She blurted, her mouth moving faster than her brain could keep up with. If it was any other circumstance, she probably would’ve been able to tell from the tone in his voice that he knew who she was, but her judgement was clouded. He had that affect on her, and she absolutely hated it.

"Sadly, I'm unable to help with dat predicament. Howeva', I will say dat I'm in a similar boat myself. You've been runnin' through my mind too, mon petit minou.”

Gambit lowered his voice slightly as his words gained more and more genuine feeling and his face grew redder. He continued to absentmindedly flick the card through his fingers, when he caught himself wishing her fingers were entangled with his. He dropped the card at that sudden thought and shook his head. Clear the thoughts, like rolling a dice.

Fuck. It took all of Rose’s strength and then some not to just crush the phone, or hurl it at the wall like she’d done to one of the other phones. She could feel her heart speeding up and a purr catch in her throat and she desperately tried to swallow it before speaking again; she knew if she tried to talk, her voice would merely be a squeak. She held the phone away from her face again as she drew a long breath, calming herself as much as possible before she spoke again.

“When can I see you again.” She asked—though it sounded more like a demand—her voice low as her tail thrashed back and forth behind her.

"Excusez-moi?"

Gambit said, more shocked than anything.

She wanted to see him again.

He bit his lip to stifle a cry of joy. Instead he hit the air a couple times, as though he were hitting an invisible punching bag. He brought the phone back up to his face and picked up the card, still flipping it wildly.

“You heard me!” Rose barked, forcing herself to keep from shouting; her neighbors had to deal with enough loudness from her as is. “I need to hit you or something.” She growled, making a face as she said it.

Gambit sat in silence for a moment, thinking. He tapped his chin with the card before speaking again.

"Well, I've got a lil’ somethin' tonight. Bank heist, nuthin' special. De one dats near de casino, can't miss it. Dere’s a lotta alleyways, find one ‘n I'll meet ya dere."

He said with a smile at his own brilliant idea. It wasn't that brilliant at all but he only cared about having her attention.

Rose flipped shut her cellphone, staring into space for a few moments. What the hell did she get herself into. Why did she have such a tendency to get roped into things against her will.

Oh well, it gave her something to do. She hung her head with a long sigh, slipping her cellphone into her back pocket and throwing on her jacket before heading out.

———

It wasn’t hard to miss him, the flashy bastard. Rose scrunched her nose. What kind of thief did he think he was? And how in god’s name had he not been caught yet?

Shaking her head as she walked towards him, her breathing shook slightly before she took a longer breath, not even giving him to time to get half his greeting out before she socked him in the face.

"Oh hel-"

Remy stumbled back as she punched him, holding a hand to his already bleeding nose.

"Straight to de point, are we? A’ight, let's see whatcha got."

He said with a smirk despite already looking beaten. He brought out his deck of cards and set them aflame with energy, tossing them down at his opponent.

Rose bared her teeth, growling lowly as she leapt backwards to dodge. She then jumped up to grab Gambit’s ankle, slamming him back down to the ground.

“Uh-uh. No mutation bullshit. Hand-to-hand or I’m leaving.” She said, a smirk tugging at the sides of her face for once.

"W’uh oh."

Gambit muttered after he recovered from being slammed to the ground. He was strong, but he wasn't Wolverine type strong. In fact, he was scared Rose was going to snap him like a toothpick.

He put the rest of his cards in his pocket and raised his fists more or less nervously. He didn't want to hit her, but he also didn't feel like being beaten half to death. In the time it took him to think about his options, he had already been punched in the jaw, sending him flying.

"You've got a mean swing-"

He was going to say something quippy when she attacked again.

“Thanks.” Rose responded half-sarcastically before throwing another hit at Gambit then backing off to defend. Her grin was evident now.

“Don’t worry about hitting me, cher. I’m not a girl, you don’t gotta worry about breaking your code of honor or whatever the fuck.” She jeered, her tail already thrashing as she waited for her opponent to make a move.

Gambit’s eyes widened at that. Cher. His face flushed a bright red and he was forever grateful that it was so dimly lit. But, wait, if Rose was a cat, couldn't she see in the dark? Gambit didn't have time to answer his own question. He sat up and wiped the blood from his face.

"A’ight then, note to self, don't underestimate de angel.”

He smirked before rushing to try and tackle her. He knew he weighed more than her, but she was faster, she dodged and he fell to the ground.

He quickly sat up and went to swing at her face, although it was dark so he couldn't see much; he was more likely to hit a wall than her.

Rose grunted as Gambit’s fist collided with her shoulder, sending her tumbling to the left before she rolled over into a crouching position.

“More like a demon if you ask me.” She muttered under her breath, giving no context before standing up and pacing back towards him, throwing an uppercut at his chin.

Gambit was thrown backwards, obviously tired but stubborn as ever. He held himself against the wall, face bruised and red with blood and blush.

“Oh petit ange, can’t you see your wings and divine figure? How could you be a demon?”

He asked with genuine curiosity, expression slightly sad that she thought of herself that way.

Rose stood still, other than her form heaving slightly from being tired, as she stared at Gambit with an unreadable expression. She then looked down at her hands, her knuckles darkened from the repeated impacts and slightly stained with blood. Her eyes widened a little before she looked back at Gambit, now holding a completely different exterior.

A defense mechanism.

“Can’t you tell? Do I need to beat you up even more? I will.” She pressed jokingly to deflect from having to tell the truth. They’d be there all night if she explained all the reasons why she felt that way, and frankly, she’d probably kill him before she’d finish.

"Doin' bad things don't make you a bad person. Just like doin' good things doesn't make you a good one."

Gambit said between pants. He was still trying to catch his breath.

"You can beat me up more, if you wanna."

He said genuinely, his expression slightly saddened. There seemed to be so much more to her than he first thought. Kinda like him.

He held his hands up and walked to Rose, showing defeat. When he stumbled close enough, he grabbed something from his pocket and gently and slowly wrapped one of her hands in his, placing whatever he had in her palm. He spoke softly, still holding her hand.

"I think you're de closest thing to an angel I've ever seen."

He said softly, his eyes averted and face flushed.

Rose’s eyes widened and her face tinted red. She stayed still for a few moments before yanking her hand away, turning away and trying to use the collar of her jacket to conceal her blush.

That felt so nice. Why did that feel so nice. Why was he being nice to her.

Her head was clouded and fuzzy with thoughts that didn’t quite feel like her own as she slowly and tentatively opened her palm to look at what he’d given her.

Gambit took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets. He turned to walk out of the alleyway, talking back at Rose on his way out.

"Don't let de cops see it. But I have a feelin' you avoid cops anyway, so."

When he made it to the sidewalk, he twirled back to Rose and bowed at her dramatically before walking away.

As he walked back to whatever place he was staying for the week, he thought about how he’d given the most expensive piece of jewelry away to impress someone. His "father" would have lectured him til his ears bled.

Gambit escaped him and he still has moments that remind him of his "dad" but he was free now.

He smiled softly at imagining her wearing that necklace as he walked back to his abode happily.

Rose couldn’t find the words to respond to Gambit when he said his goodbyes. She sent a look back at him before looking at what he’d put in her palm.

What she found was a diamond necklace and yet another card he’d written on, but this time it said ‘same time same place next week?’

It was subconscious, it was genuine, and she forced herself to stop when she realized; but for a moment, she was smiling.

#hehe funnie f.nf reference in the title :]#it is 1:10am my eyes are burning hsjdbsj #[ r.selfship — rosemary ]#art.exe #self ship #self shipping #self ship writing #self ship art #self ship community

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bytheangell · 3 years

Text

Give Yourself a Try

(Advent Prompt: Presents) (Jimon | Gen | Hanukkah) (Read on AO3)

When Jace asks him about the upcoming holidays, Simon shrugs. “I don’t know if I’m even going to celebrate,” he says noncommittally. His family thinks he’s dead, Clary isn’t around. The whole thing feels like a reminder of everything he lost this year. “Somehow the idea of celebrating Hanukkah alone seems worse than not celebrating at all.”

“Oh,” Jace says, looking surprisingly concerned. “What if I come over and do it with you?”

Simon’s caught off-guard by the offer. “Really?”

Jace nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Simon eyes Jace carefully but his offer seems genuine enough. “Alright,” Simon finally agrees. “Thanks.”

He’s done an impressive job of ignoring his crush on Jace long enough to reach the point of them becoming pretty good friends, and he can’t deny that he’d love to spend the holiday with Jace, even if Jace is only doing it to be nice.

Maybe the holidays wouldn’t be as bad as he thought after all. It isn’t what he’s used to, but if Jace can give it a try, so can he.

---

Simon can tell that something is off with Jace. He’s been nervous all day, not that he’s said anything about it. Simon tried very hard to ignore it, not wanting to pry into something that isn’t any of his business, but now Jace just keeps staring at him anxiously and he has to know why.

“Is everything alright?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. “I know what I said before, but I can do this alone, really, it’s fine.”

Simon wonders if Jace only offered to come out of pity and not because he really wants to be here with Simon, which Simon should’ve guessed from the start.

“What? No, I want to be here. And everything is fine,” Jace adds. “I was just wondering… if I could give you a present?”

Simon nearly drops the packet of matches he’s holding as he walks toward the menorah on the windowsill. “What?”

“Well, I was doing some research, and I know gifts aren’t really traditional. I didn’t want to, like, accidentally offend you or something,” Jace adds.

“You did research? About Hanukkah?” Simon knows he should be having a better conversation about this than just echoing back everything Jace says, but he can’t quite move past the shock of this revelation.

“A little,” Jace says cryptically, and the slightest tinge of red crosses high on his cheeks. Simon’s certain there’s more to it than Jace is admitting, but if there is he isn’t saying any more about it.

“Some families do gifts,” Simon confirms. “It’s a more recent shift.”

Jace nods as if Simon’s confirming what he already found. Simon watches Jace wait expectantly because that’s still not an answer to his question.

“You really don’t have to,” Simon emphasizes. “But yeah, a gift is fine.” He realizes Jace wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t already have one, which makes Simon overly aware that he doesn’t have anything for Jace. Shit.

“After?” Simon asks, motioning to the menorah which is the perfect stalling excuse, given the fact that the sunset just ended.

Jace nods, and Simon watches as Jace begins to fidget again, this time with the hem of his shirt. Simon notices then that Jace’s shirt is blue with thin silver stripes, and wonders if that’s intentional, too.

“You don’t have to say anything while I go through the blessings,” Simon reassures him. Except as Simon lights the shamash and begins to sing through the first of three blessings in Hebrew, he nearly stumbles over his words in surprise as Jace joins in immediately. It isn’t perfect, and Simon catches a few things Jace mispronounces or forgets entirely, but it’s impressive.

“When did you learn that?” Simon asks when it’s over and the candles are lit. “Is there some secret Jewish Shadowhunter course I don’t know about?”

“I learned what I could on my own,” Jace admits. “And called Becky for a few bits I couldn’t quite get.”

“That’s…” Simon starts, but can’t quite find the words to tell Jace how much that means to him. He also wonders when Jace even got his sister’s number to talk to her, but doesn’t want to ask that and derail the conversation too much just then.

“Sorry if it was awful,” Jace says quickly, obviously misinterpreting Simon’s hesitation.

“No, it was amazing! I…” Simon shakes his head a little in awe. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

“Speaking of thoughtful,” Jace says, walking over to where he left his coat and pulling a small box out of the pocket. “This is for you.”

Simon takes it with a frown. “I didn’t get you anything,” he admits.

“This isn’t my holiday,” Jace points out.

Simon knows he isn’t going to win this argument so he drops it in favor of opening the present. He sees the Star of David and immediately freezes.

“You should be able to touch it,” Jace says. “It’s set on a titanium backing and has a protective coating over the front.” Simon pulls what he sees is a necklace out by the chain. The religious symbol is set on top of a silver background, with a clear coating over it. “I’ve been assured that it won’t burn through, so you can wear it,” Jace adds.

It’s so unexpectedly sweet. Simon looks from the necklace to Jace who, on top of everything else he did to be there for Simon tonight, went out of his way to get this gift for him… Simon is pretty sure he could cry just then. In fact, he realizes he’s about to and quickly sets the necklace down on the table in front of him and excuses himself. He practically runs to the bathroom to compose himself, because Jace is just trying to be nice and he doesn’t want to ruin it by getting all worked up over a stupid necklace.

Except it isn’t a stupid necklace. It’s a really thoughtful, really meaningful necklace. It’s also bringing up a lot of feelings Simon’s been working very hard to ignore because he likes being friends with Jace and he doesn’t want to ruin that by getting too emotional and making Jace regret ever being nice to him. He just needs a few seconds to reel himself back in.

From the bathroom his heightened hearing tunes into Jace’s voice coming from the living room. Simon knows he shouldn’t be listening in just because he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him when he hears what Jace is talking about.

“I told you I thought the necklace was too much,” Jace says, then pauses. Simon realizes he must be on the phone. “Yeah, well, he practically ran after I gave it to him. Maybe I came on a bit too strong...” Another pause. “...I can’t ask him out now! I ruined everything…” Another pause. “Yes, of course I still like him.” Another pause, and then Jace continues very slowly and with his voice much more tense than before, “Yes. I did forget he can probably hear everything I’m saying. Goddamnit, Alec, you set me up-”

Jace curses and falls silent, and Simon imagines that was the very abrupt end of his phonecall. He’s pretty certain it isn’t good for his emotions to swing back and forth as wildly as they are tonight.

Opening the bathroom door, Simon makes his way back to the living room. “Ask me,” Simon says, not even pretending he didn’t hear the conversation.

“What?” Jace asks.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Ask me,” Simon says.

“Do you want to go out with-?” Jace asks.

“Yes,” Simon says before Jace can even finish asking. “I absolutely do.”

Simon watches as Jace smiles back. “Good, because I really wasn’t looking forward to returning the seven other presents.” --- ((a/n - hello friends! I just wanted to note that I’m not Jewish, but this idea wouldn’t leave my head and I wanted to give it a try to show Simon some holiday love! I read some articles a friend suggested and asked some clarifying questions along the way, so I hope I got the parts I mentioned in the fic correct. (It seems to vary as to whether you sing before or after lighting depending on personal traditions/varying teachings, so this is the one I went with!) However, if I messed anything up, please kindly let me know so I can learn and fix as needed! <3))

#jimon #jace herondale #simon lewis #shadowhunters #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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sergeanttpoliteness · 4 years

Text

➹types of kisses➹(peter parker x reader)

A colorful collection of your many types of kisses, because a kiss can have more than just one meaning.

a/n: i know i’m three days late, but this is my christmas present :) (sorry for the shitty title) it’s kinda different to what i usually write because there’s really no... plot? it’s just one big but short compilation of fluff and tropes that will give you real bad diabetes. i was gonna include a break-up kiss but bc i’m nice, i decided against it lmaoooo. also !! i wrote this for ps4 peter, but i honestly can imagine it with mcu peter as well-- just choose whatever you prefer ! anyway, i hope whoever is reading this has a wonderful new year, ily.

warnings: making out, a lil bit of grinding but nothing more than that, cursing.

——-

FIRST KISS - KISS ME IN THE PARK, WE’LL MEET UP AFTER DARK

It wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to be.

Not that you thought about kissing Peter Parker too much, anyway. He was one of your best friends, and who thinks about kissing friends? Definitely not you.

Alright, that was a lie— you used to think about it. A lot. And unbeknownst to you, he did as well. However, contrary to your lack of knowledge about his urges, you did know that, for a while now, his feelings towards you changed. And, similarly, he was aware that your own feelings for him, too, transformed into something more. Further than friendly embraces or innocent sleepovers when you were little kids. Bigger than platonic emotion. More than a simple friendship.

It lingered in your minds and was evident in everyone’s eyes, yet neither of you had the courage to move past friendship.

One night at eleven-thirteen, as the two of you— two grown-ups— were in a playground, doing the spider on a swing together and laughing enough that your stomachs ached, that craving to meet his lips resurfaced with such vigor, it spilled out of your mouth.

“Can I say something?!” You laughed as you swayed higher into the air, a yelp involuntarily fleeting past your lips and your legs tightening around Peter’s waist since you feared you were close to falling off the swing and on your back. “Thank you for picking up— shit!— the phone! I really missed you, you know— ow, okay, this really hurts!”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” Peter’s feet immediately skidded against the ground to put your swinging to a halt, sand flying everywhere. Once you were still, you both remained giggling and with youthful smiles that reached your eyes. “Of course I was gonna pick up the phone. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” He said, and you had to hold yourself back from making a face at the word ‘friend’. You couldn’t complain— that’s that you were, after all. Except that this didn’t feel like merely hanging out, rather it appeared like a date.

“It’s pretty late, though.”

Peter shrugged. “Even if it were three AM, I’d still answer any of your calls.”

Your face softened and you bit the inside of your cheek, staring down at your lap. “That’s cute. But if you called me at three AM, I’d tell you to fuck off and then go back to sleep.” Peter opened his mouth in disbelief at your honesty, shaking his head.

“Wow, thanks. I’m glad our love is mutual.”

“It is mutual,” And it was indeed. “I just express it differently. For example, I tell you to stop working yourself to the bone so you can hang out with me and do adult stuff.” You placed one hand on his shoulder and gestured with the other to the empty playground you were in.

Peter chuckled, quirking a brow whilst he unconsciously began to move the two of you back and forth a little. “Adult stuff, huh?” You nodded solemnly.

“This is very mature.” You raised your nose in a not-so-mature way. Peter copied your previous gesture, humming.

“You’re right. Playgrounds were made for twenty-three-year-olds, after all.”

You giggled, but then changed your expression into a more stern one. “For real, you gotta give yourself a break.” You warned him, shaking your finger at him to add more of an emphasis, however, instead you amused him more than anything in the process.

He raised his hands. “Hey, it’s the city that never sleeps.” He defended, but you narrowed your eyes, giving him a look that was enough to communicate you were not accepting any humor. He dropped his hands and hung his head dramatically, sighing. “All right, I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything.”

You smiled sadly. “I know you can’t.” You quickly exchanged your frown for a smirk. “But if you don’t listen to me, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” You joked, and Peter cocked his head to one side, wearing a crooked smile.

“How, exactly?”

All playfulness vanished and the warmth within your stomach took the spotlight yet again. Kiss me, a thought popped into your head, threatening to control your tongue. But you couldn’t. Even if your eyes accidentally flickered down to his mouth, and he undoubtedly noticed, for he gripped the swing’s chains tightly. You really wanted to say it.

So you chose to do it.

“Maybe you could…” You trailed off as soon as you caught onto some movement in the background, your sight shifting from Peter’s face to it. Suddenly, your eyes grew wide. “Oh, fuck.”

“W-What?” Peter turned to look behind his back, but before he could observe anything, he felt your legs unwrap from his body followed by a heavy object hitting the ground. His head whipped back to stare at you, and now his eyes were the ones about to pop out of his sockets when he saw you on the ground. “Y/N! Jeez, are you okay—”

You jumped to your feet, not bothering to dust off the sand off your clothes before you yanked Peter away from the swing, shushing unnecessarily louder and completely opposing your intention. “Shut up! We have to hide!” You hissed at him, peeking behind his body.

Peter tried following your gaze a second time, but you pulled at his arm harshly. “Why?!”

“Just— just follow me!” Was your explanation as you dragged him to hide behind a tree. You put your hand against the wood, slowly leaning to your side until the tree trunk uncovered your eye. Pointing at a woman standing up from a bench and a guy walking up to her, you glanced back at Peter. “You see her?”

Peter furrowed his brows, momentarily looking down at you. “...Y-Yeah? Isn’t that the teacher you told me about? The one who teaches at your cousin’s school?”

“Yes! And look at her!”

Peter’s attention returned to the woman who hugged her jacket close to her body and now spoke to the man, not discerning anything suspicious at the moment. “She’s talking to someone.” He pointed out the obvious, unimpressed. You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“That someone is one of her students.”

Peter blinked and eyed the man who turned out to be a teenager. “Oh, he looks much older—”

“Because he’s a fucking drug addict! And I bet she’s his dealer!” You scream-whispered at him, flailing your arm towards the pair.

“I thought you were just joking when you first said that.”

You rolled your eyes, and continued watching them. Whatever the conversation was, it had all of a sudden turned into an argument as the woman poked the kid’s chest with her finger. “Why are they just talking, though?” You asked quietly, as if Peter somehow would have the answer. The volume of their voices increased, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. Scoffing, you shuffled away from Peter. “I gotta hear what they’re saying—”

Before you could tip-toe away from the tree, Peter gripped your arm and pulled you into him. “No. She has a gun.” He motioned to an object peeking out of her pants’ back pocket, and upon further squinting your eyes, you realized it was, in fact, a weapon. Peter gently pushed you towards the tree and he took a step back. “I’ll go make sure nothing bad happens while you stay here, okay?”

You stuttered, your brows snapping together. “No, this is my fucking case, you dickhead.” You began to speed walk past him, but you couldn’t get too far— he grabbed your arm and tugged you back once again. “Peter!”

“Y/N, you’re not a goddamn private investigator—”

“Well, tonight I am!” You broke free from his grasp; however, he quickly had you back in his hold.

“No, what are you doing?!” He embraced you tighter when you squirmed wildly.

“Peter, the kid could be in danger!”

“You don’t even know how to fight!”

“Oh, and you do?” You retorted without thinking. When he processed the absurdity you’d just uttered, he let go of you and stared at you dumbfounded, struggling to speak. Finally, he pointed at himself, his forehead creased.

“I’m Spider-Man!”

You scrunched up your nose, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.”

You totally did. As he remained puzzled, you took the chance and started a race to a tree standing near the woman and the kid. Completely forgetting about Peter’s super-speed, you thought you had succeeded until halfway there, he quickly caught up to you. Without a warning, he tackled you to the ground, falling on top of you whilst you cried out in pain.

“Ow! What the fuck, dude?!” You groaned loudly, but then you slapped your mouth when you recognized how noisy you’d been. Their conversation stopped abruptly, crickets singing whole-heartedly as you and Peter stared at each other wide-eyed.

“Did you hear that? Did you bring someone with you?” You both heard the woman ask. To your horror, footsteps approaching you were the next sound to reach your ears. “Hey, who’s there?!”

“Great, look at what you did—”

“You fucking tackled me to the ground!”

Peter surveyed the area promptly, and his gaze fixated on the tree you initially sprinted towards. He didn’t hesitate before he lifted his hand and aimed his wrist to shoot a web to get both of you out of there. But you had other plans.

You gripped the collar of his shirt, distracting him. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do, but just— just trust me and follow me, okay?” You breathed out, eyeing him. Peter opened his mouth, about to ask for you to elaborate.

“Wh—” You pulled him down and crashed your lips into his, muffling his exclamation of surprise. Stunned, his eyes stayed open, and when he didn’t react, yours fluttered open to signal at him to play the part. As soon as the hairs of his arms stuck up, he shut his eyelids closed and kissed you back, cupping your face and fully getting into it.

The woman jumped from behind the tree, confident she’d found the culprits of the noise, and— well— yes, she had. However, she didn’t expect to walk upon two people on the grass, in the middle of a make-out session. She grimaced the moment she saw your legs around Peter’s waist and your hands running all over his back as you fucking moaned to a point that it was forthright pornographic.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her cheeks reddening perhaps more than your face and Peter’s, and she instantly turned around, leaving you two alone.

You two continued, waiting until the woman made an excuse and abandoned the teen. Ten seconds passed and you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as Peter unknowingly searched for your lips again. “That worked like a charm, huh?” You laughed, dazed and the speed of your heartbeat only incrementing when you saw Peter’s swollen lips.

“Yeah, yeah… a better warning would’ve been nice.”

“Shut up.”

“And was the moaning really… necessary?”

“I saw it on a show. It makes people more uncomfortable.” You explained, out of breath, and he nodded. You both stared at each other, not bothering to move yet. “For the record, you’re a good kisser.” You blurted out and grinned sheepishly. Peter returned the expression, chuckling and unbelieving of your existence.

“S-So are you. But my plan was better.” He smiled bashfully, holding himself up with his hands next to your head. You doubted his statement, narrowing your eyes.

“Did it involve kissing?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t.”

You might have forgotten about your drug deal case and continued making out.

HELLO AND GOODBYE KISSES - TOOTHPASTE KISSES

Two months into dating, neither of you thought much about them anymore. Once they became part of your routine, it’s an absent-minded action, not much different from brushing your teeth, or Peter entering your apartment through your window instead of the door like everyone else. But then again, Peter wasn’t merely everyone else. And your unconscious routine kisses weren’t exactly just another bullet point in your ‘to-do’ list, either. If one of you forgot, or simply did not have enough time to spare, you’d both find yourselves missing it.

Which was why you tried your best to follow through with them, despite what situations either of you found yourselves in.

The alarm did not go off that morning (or perhaps you both passed out before you could set it in the first place— you couldn’t remember precisely), reason why you nearly choked on the lather of toothpaste while you brushed your teeth as if your life depended on it. In a way, however, it did, especially your job: you were now running outrageously late, and you could already imagine your boss’ blank expression as he told you he needed to ‘have a talk’ with you since this was the third time it occurred. You whined. You were doomed.

Peter joined you in the bathroom, jumping on one foot as he slid his other leg into his Spider-Man suit. He made a noise and caught your attention— finally, you noticed he had an entire piece of toast in his mouth. He tried to say something with the bread in between his teeth, but it was incomprehensible. You raised your brows, attempting to communicate with him without taking out your toothbrush. You both went on like that for thirty seconds: doing hand gestures and mumbling without getting any idea across until Peter finally put on his suit and bit off a chunk of his breakfast.

“Have you seen my phone?” He asked, his mouth full. You spat out the toothpaste and he couldn’t help the smitten smile that his heart painted onto his face when he saw the froth around your mouth.

“I put it right next to my keys.” You said as you washed your brush. Peter hummed and swallowed before he walked up to you.

“Alright, thanks. I really gotta run now, though.” He planted a kiss on your temple and you groaned in disgust when you felt the crumbles of his toast on your skin.

“Gross,” You wiped your forehead and Peter rolled his eyes, shoving you playfully and about to leave until you grabbed his arm. “Wait!” You encircled his neck with your arms and pecked his cheek for longer than usual, purposefully smearing his face with toothpaste.

“Ugh, gross!” He mimicked you and leaned away from you, laughing. You puckered your white lips, still trying to reach him but his arms pushed you back. “Nuh-uh, I gotta run.”

“No toothpaste kiss from your love?”

“No.”

“Toast kiss?”

“You’re gonna get fired.”

You let him go.

Later that night, Peter entered your living room, his search for you coming to an end once he saw you asleep on the couch. He laughed quietly, in the back of his head wishing he was sleeping, too, with you, and he kneeled down in front of you. He kissed the tip of your nose— the way he liked to greet you in spite of what state you were in. When he stood up, you blinked your eyes open and you lazily grinned up at him. “Peter-Man is back.”

His gaze moved down to you, guilt appearing after he saw you let out a long yawn. “Ah, man, I didn’t want to wake you.”

You had to return his hello kiss, and so you clutched his hand and pressed your mouth against his gloved knuckles. “C’mere. Join me in my slumber.” You said with an overdone accent.

He didn’t even consider telling you to move to your bed. He plopped down on the small space left and snuggled into you, his own yawn overpowering him. You hugged him tightly from behind, and within minutes, you were both deep into your sleep.

The next morning, you woke up late yet again.

HEATED KISSES - WE’VE GOT ONE THING IN COMMON, IT’S THIS TONGUE OF MINE

It’d been your first date in four months, and you swore your sex drive had never been higher.

Peter noticed, of course, and took the decision to ditch the dinner you had originally planned once you finished the movie you were watching— or tried to watch, since you couldn’t take your hands nor lips off him during its entirety. As the credits rolled, you straddled his hips, sucking on the flesh of his jaw. You itched to see his face when he groaned— and my God, that sound did not help your case at all.

You began to trail your mouth down his neck, decorating it with a whole masterpiece of bruises, and Peter wondered how he was going to cover those up; but at the moment, it did not matter a single bit. The two of you were too into it to pull away—

“Ugh, wait—” Or not. Peter stopped you and you blinked at him as he sat straight, taking out the TV’s control remote from under him. “That was really bothering me.” He immediately pulled you back into a kiss, tugging your hair and provoking a small moan out of you.

He broke away from you, his smirk transforming into the fuel feeding your lust. “You really like that, huh?”

“Shut up.” You mumbled and your lips continued to mold into each other with desperation, the sexual desire which had build-up since your last encounter brimming as your tongues met. Peter slowly began to lift the hem of your shirt, and your excitement erupted in the pit of your stomach at the fact that you finally wouldn’t have to wait anymore—

Your phone began to ring. You tried to ignore it, but your ringtone made it impossible. “Hold on,” You sighed, disappointed, and turned your phone off, your jaw set in annoyance. Yet again, you resumed where you left off, more urgent than before. Your hand moved his own back up to your hair whilst the other ran up his thigh. He failed in holding back the jerk of his hips as he pulled at your hair yet again, your moans synchronized. You couldn’t have been more elated you both wore your pajama bottoms as you began to grind down onto his crotch.

Peter dug his fingers into your hips and he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he gulped to keep his noises down lest your neighbors heard you. “No, no, I wanna hear you—” You breathed out, speeding up your pace, whining yourself. He collided his mouth against yours, grunting into your kiss.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but you really, really, really did not wish to stop. And you weren’t going to this time, no matter what—

“Tonight’s our last party as high school people!” A voice and music blasted from the TV and you both jolted away from each other, startled. The credits had gone on long enough that the streaming service began to play a trailer for another movie, the volume at its fullest from where you’d left it earlier. You let out the most exasperated groan in your lifetime and furiously moved off of Peter to go and unplug the TV; however, he slipped his hands under your butt and picked you up.

“The bedroom—” He panted and stopped neglecting your lips as he carried you and ran towards your room, the two of you giggling maniacally when he stumbled through the door and then slammed it shut.

The trailer played all night long.

EMOTIONAL KISSES - STOP YOUR CRYING, IT’S ALRIGHT— SHUT UP, KISS ME, HOLD ME TIGHT

Peter had lost the fight.

Although you were useless, you tried getting there in time, hoping you could cause any distraction that would give him an advantage. But you heard the explosion, the walls and the ground rattling, and you dreaded you were too late.

You fell through the double doors, nearly losing your full balance and dropping to the floor. However, you maintained your composure, and tried to scan the room. The smoke hit your eyes and they stung, tears forming in your eyes which grew redder as the seconds passed.

Fire blazed throughout most of the room. You went down on all fours and shrugged your jacket off before you rapidly fastened it around your lower face. Your trembling hand grasped the pipe you’d kept with you in case you came upon someone, and you began to crawl into a cloud of smoke, praying Peter was still alive and breathing.

You fought hard to hold in the sobs that clawed at your throat. You couldn’t break down. Not right now, when Peter needed you.

“Peter!” You called out, coughing as a trace of fumes managed to sneak into your system. You went on with your search, nevertheless, even after your hand accidentally touched a scorching piece of metal and left your flesh screaming. Keep going, you told yourself when you cried out in pain, shaking yourself out of it. “Peter, it’s me! I-I’m here!”

A minute went by at most, but it seemed like an eternity. A minute and ten seconds, until you caught a glimpse of Peter’s body surrounded by flourishing flames. “Pete!” You stood up and ran to him, uncaring of your knees as you collapsed next to him. “O-Oh God…” You saw his burnt suit and whimpered, not knowing anymore if the tears pouring down your face were due to the smoke or the appalling despair poisoning your veins. You didn’t waste a single moment dwelling on the sight in front of you, though— right away, you grabbed him under his armpits and took in a restricted breath before you dragged him with you. You only moved him a few inches before you fell to your knees, heaving.

“Why are you so fucking heavy,” You sobbed, the terrifying realization that you might not make it out of there hitting you at full force. “N-No, you’re coming with me. We’re getting out of here, okay, baby?”

You didn’t know why you were speaking to his unconscious body. Perhaps it was the faint desire that he wasn’t gone yet, and he could somehow hear you. You could sense a coughing fit coming, but you stood back up and started hauling Peter across the floor again, this time mustering every last shred of strength your body possessed.

You had no answer to how you made it. But soon, you had gotten Peter as far away from the room as you could, and your arms gave out. You ripped his mask off, cupping his face with your dirty hands. He barely breathed. “Don’t leave me. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m gonna be so mad if you do.” You wiped your nose with your forearm and shook your hands, coughing. “Okay, okay, CPR.”

You placed the heel of your hand on his chest and put the other on top to push down hard. Push, push, push. You carried on begging him to stay with you as you did the compressions, your arms already too weak from having to carry him, but you continued pushing. Push, push, push. When you realized he still wasn’t breathing, you cursed loudly and began to blow into his mouth. You went back to doing compressions.

At the third rescue breath, he began to cough.

“Peter!” You bit back another sob as you watched consciousness slowly return to him, and when he blinked his red eyes up at you, you grabbed his face and pecked his mouth countless times, your shoulders shuddering.

Not too long after, he finally understood what was happening, and he held your shoulders, viewing you up and down. “Oh, thank God you’re okay—”

“No, thank God you’re okay—”

“I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried about you!”

“I tried getting to you as soon as I could—” He pecked you back, his voice raspy. “—but more guys just kept coming at me—”

“A bomb fucking exploded, Peter. I thought you were gone.” You were now weeping. Peter kissed you one last time before he embraced you close, against his wounds’ wishes. As you both tried to calm down, he glanced down at your hands and saw your open knuckles.

His eyes widened. “What happened to you?!” You looked down at your hands, the pain only just setting in once you became aware of your cuts.

“I had to get up here somehow,” You laughed weakly, and pointed at the abandoned pipe a few feet away from you. “I also had that. I’ve got a mean swing you’d be surprised. And a taser.” You took out the taser from your pocket wiggling it. Peter stared at you, his eyes moving back and forth between the taser and the pipe.

“That’s kinda hot.”

“Almost as much as that explosion?”

He had to give you a high five before you finally took him to the hospital.

‘YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL’ KISSES - YOU’RE JUST TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU

A comedian’s podcast played in the background as you knelt beside Peter on your bed, using a brush to spread a skincare product evenly on his face. Peter watched you, adoring eyes inspecting you closely while you caught your lower lip in between your teeth and giggled after you heard a joke which you found too amusing.

He drew patterns on your knee with his thumb and he squinted at you with curiosity, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. “Since when are you a fan of this skincare stuff?”

You squeezed a dab of product onto the brush before you grasped his chin gently, leaning closer to his face. “This coworker of mine, his skin is, like, so damn soft and flawless. I asked him what kind of black magic he used and he gifted me this,” You motioned to the bottle next to you, “and so I thought: ‘Well, might as well try it with my poor boyfriend who fucking sweats into a mask most of the time’. Seriously, I feel so bad for your pores—”

“Hey, my skin isn’t that bad, though. It’s beautiful.” He joked. You smiled at his comment, agreeing with your head.

“You’re right. But it doesn’t mean it can’t be better. You also deserve to sit back and relax after that job interview you had today.”

Peter frowned when he saw your excitement at the mention of the interview, self-doubt sabotaging his attempt at relaxing. “I probably didn’t get the job.” He muttered.

Your brows knitted together and you pulled the brush away from his face to run your hand through his hair. “Shut up, you totally did. You’re the smartest guy I know.” You winked at him teasingly and he rolled his eyes, although his mouth twitched nonetheless. “Okay, you’re done! Now, look— let’s see my new glorious skin.” You gestured to your dried face, patting it to make sure it was ready.

“If our skin isn’t softer than a baby’s butt, I’m gonna sue.”

You snorted at him before you started scratching the product off your jaw. You hissed as it peeled off, pulling at your skin. You attempted to go on, but your pain tolerance was a joke at the moment. “Fuck, I think this now officially gonna be my face for the rest of my life.” You groaned. Peter gently pulled your hands away from your face.

“Lemme try.”

“No!” You playfully slapped his hands off you. “You’re probably gonna rip my face off.” And so he simply stared as you resumed your torture and voiced your complaints, until you gave up once you’d managed to free half of your face.

Needless to say, you looked like an absolute clown.

In the midst of your battle against the face mask, Peter himself struggled to keep a serious face as he watched you and the product hardened, limiting the range of his expressions. You heard him laugh strangely, and you glanced up at him only to see him with his mouth half-open, his shoulders bouncing up and down with his chuckles, but he remained with a straight-face.

You quirked a brow when his laughter increased, his eyes tearing up. “What is wrong with you?”

“I-I can’t laugh.” He gasped, his face starting to twist. You began to laugh at him then, spreading the hilarity further like a virus. “N-No, don’t laugh! You’ll make laugh and I can’t laugh!” He shook his head frantically, his face mask starting to crack.

“You look like an idiot,” You wheezed, and all he could do was admire you as you cracked up and held your stomach, your beam making his chest swell.

Your appearance was ridiculous at the moment, yet you mesmerized him nevertheless.

When you noticed he’d stopped laughing, you wiped your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, and saw his small smile. “What?” You questioned him, wondering if perhaps he gasped so much he was now dizzy. His grin grew. He didn’t care about the mask anymore.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You pretended to gag, although your face heated up and your mouth curved into a smile. “Shut up, you’re so lame, God.”

“But you are!”

“Stop!”

“You’re so beautiful!” He yelled out dramatically to tease you. All of a sudden, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed your face, determined on peppering all the visible skin of your face with kisses. Your giggles were out of control as you tried squirming out of his grasp, but he continued pecking you over, and over, and over again.

“I’m gonna throw up!” You laughed, and he smooched your cheek. “You’re a loser, I swear.”

He was your loser.

HOLIDAY KISSES - BABY, I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND IF YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME TOO, IT WOULD BE CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY

It’d been eight months since you started dating, and neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet.

It’s not that there existed no love. Just like you had said the night you first kissed, the love was mutual, but— again— you preferred to show it differently other than verbally. Or at least other than being straight-forward. It was expressed loud and clear whenever Peter squeezed in time in the morning to make you breakfast, every time you both teased each other or you told him to ‘shut up’, and, of course, in the most simple and obvious way: with every single kiss you shared. But you couldn’t have cried it out louder when you told Peter you’d take care of planning the Christmas Eve celebration at F.E.A.S.T.

You knew everything about Peter. You saved a special place in your brain with every detail about him: his fears, his wishes, his regrets, his shoe size— everything. It’s a perk from knowing him since middle school, and now that you were together, you’d only uncovered the remaining information buried deep within. Therefore, after he got a new job that made him as content as working with Otto Octavius did before everything went downhill, you were aware that if you hadn’t intervened, Peter would have overloaded with stress from trying to juggle every aspect of his life plus dealing with the Christmas Eve party.

However, that meant you transferred the restlessness from him to yourself.

Two months of relentless planning, and at last, it was Christmas Eve. At the back of the room, you watched your friend’s band play a Christmas song from afar, anxiously supervising that everyone enjoyed the night. Suddenly, you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind and a chin atop your head.

“Hey,” You heard Peter say and you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. “I haven’t been able to hang out with you at all during the night.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything was going well.” Your voice, distant and distraught, deepened Peter’s frown. He turned you around and held your face, brushing your cheek with his knuckles.

“I’m proud of you. You did a great job.”

Although his words made your chest glow, you glanced back at the performance. “Thanks. I was able to add in a few things since I convinced Harry’s dad to donate some money. I guess being his favorite out of you, Mary Jane, and I helped after all, huh?”

“Well, you can relax now,” He rubbed your shoulders, and you just then realized how tense they were. “The night’s almost over.” Peter reassured you and you sighed, closing your heavy eyes.

“Anything could happen, though.” You forced out a laugh, worry forming a crease in between your eyebrows. “What if something catches on fire? Actually, did you know that people can randomly combust? There’s this one case—”

“Y/N.” For once, he was the one stopping you from rambling.

“There’s still five songs left of the set.” You pouted at him, trying to convince him to let you off the hook, but he simply stared at you, concerned.

“I talked to Miles, he’s going to take your place while you take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, I just have to watch—”

“Remember the night when we first kissed, and you told me that I needed to stop overworking myself?” He recalled, raising his brows. You pressed your lips together, recognizing how hypocritical you appeared at the moment.

“This is different, though. I need this to be perfect.” You mumbled. Peter’s brows drew together in confusion.

“Why?”

“Because of May!” You said, raising your voice a little. The floor now seemed more interesting than Peter or your surroundings. “She deserves it. She really cared about F.E.A.S.T., so I know how important this is for you, too.” You admitted, all of a sudden quiet.

The corners of his mouth turned downwards. He grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead before his soft gaze interlocked with yours. “Y/N, I bet she’d be so proud right now that she wouldn’t shut up about it, like, ever.” You both laughed, but you smiled weakly, hugging him strongly. “And spending time with you is really important for me, too.” He whispered.

Peter took in a sharp breath and dug his hand into his pocket. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I wanted to give you one present today.”

You tilted your head, your heart falling as remembrance dawned upon you. “But I left my gifts back home.”

“It’s alright, I-I just…” He took out a tiny box and your eyes widened in panic. “Before you freak out, it’s not… it’s not what you think.” He chuckled nervously and opened it, revealing a silver band ring.

You covered your mouth with your fist while your other hand grasped the ring carefully, inspecting the diamond cut running through the middle. “Pete… it’s so pretty, oh my God. I can’t even imagine how much you spent on it.” You said, guilt etched onto your face.

Peter tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he had to admit the expense stung a bit. “Don’t think about the price tag,” He joked, and then pointed down at the ring. “Look inside it, though.”

You followed his orders and spotted something engraved inside. You lifted it closer to your face to read it properly, squinting your eyes, and once you did, you looked up at Peter’s nervous face with a grin growing on yours. “You… love me?”

It was about damn time.

“Y-You… you like it?” He asked rapidly, his own heart mirroring the speed of his words.

In the blink of an eye, you met his lips with a deep kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling into it. “You’re so fucking dramatic, you could’ve just told me but you had to buy a whole ass ring to tell me you loved me.” You nudged him playfully.

“I wanted to be cute!”

“You’re automatically cute, you don’t even have to try.” Peter proved your point as the color of cotton candy painted his cheeks. “But I love it. And I love you, God, I love you so much, Peter, you have no clue.”

He did. And he loved you back just as much.

#peter parker x reader #ps4 peter parker x reader #mcu #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker one shot #insomniac spider-man #spider man ps4 #spiderman x reader #peter parker x y/n #fem! reader #male!reader #gender neutral

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dalgikiss · 4 years

Text

Catch 22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 16

slight spoiler at the end if u have not watched s2 of haikyuu

He catches you when you’re not looking, too immersed in trying to choose between a yogurt drink or fruit juice to notice him sneak up behind you.

You let out a muffled shout of surprise as you’re twirled around, coins scattering out of your hand and your back pressed against the machine.

“Hey, my change!” you cried out. Your hand was outstretched in a weak attempt to grab the coins rolling around the ground, fingers making grabby motions.

“I’ll buy you whatever you want, just please look at me, please [name]”

You purse your lips at the sound of Iwaizumi’s request before denying him, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head, hair flying around you as you did so.

“C’mon, please?"

“Didn’t I tell you we’ll talk after qualifiers?”

You’re starting to get tired from having your eyes closed so tightly, the ground beneath you beginning to feel unsteady and you’re quick to grab onto the edges of the machine while Iwaizumi presses closer to you so you have more support in worries that you might fall

“Please?”

“Leave me alone!” You crack your eyes open just the tiniest bit to see him peering at you with those green eyes before shutting them again in your haste.

“I’ll buy you every drink in this vending machine, please [name], I’m begging you here”

You stop struggling against him and he takes it as a good sign, a deep breath escaping from his mouth. Your perfume wafts over him, the smell overpowering him in time with waves of missing being around you that crash into him.

He really fucked up, didn’t he

“Yeah, you did”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts as he realized he had said that out loud. You had finally opened your eyes to stare at him defiantly, chin raised ever so slightly and arms crossed over your chest as though daring him to disagree with you. The position you’re both currently in- you trapped in between his arms with your back against the vending machine makes it seem as though you should be the one powerless but as Iwaizumi watches you, green eyes half lidded at the close proximity, maybe it should have been the other way around.

The bell rings and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he has to go to class, he knows that he has to pull away eventually where you’ll be separated from him by a sea of wooden desks and classmates but he really can’t, not when you had finally given him the time of day again, no matter how brief.

“I’m really sorry” His breath is warm against your neck when he drops his forehead against your shoulder, a shiver starting from the base of your spine moving to your neck at breathtaking speed. You wonder what the two of you look like right now and entertain the idea of Ryuoko catching the two of you, heartbeat thrumming faster ever so slightly.

It’s getting quiet around the two of you, the last of students filing away into their classrooms while stuffing the last of their lunches into their mouths and Iwaizumi knows he can’t make you stay for much longer before a teacher comes around.

“The things I said were uncalled for. I was upset and I took my anger out on you which was unfair”

You reach a hand up to bring up to his side, ready to gently run your palms up and down to soothe him like he always did for you only to let your fingers wiggle in the air as you contemplated whether or not you should do something so intimate and dropped it instead, arms stilling by your side.

It feels like you're burning, your whole body on fire, especially where his forehead rested against the crook of your neck.

“I know I messed up. I hope you can forgive me”

You bite your lip, gently pushing him off of you instead. He stumbles back slightly, clouds of dust wafting up behind him as he watches you with wide eyes. You smooth your dress shirt under your fingers, the cool cotton a complete contrast to your heated palms. “I know” You tell him, “I know. I said we’d talk about it after qualifiers. Please focus on doing your best and then we can talk about it some other time”

The clock you stare at is unforgiving, time is unforgiving and you are reminded of this every single time the red hand makes its way around the numbers.

You remind him class had started a few minutes ago and gently tug on his wrist to stir him into motion. He walks behind you like a zombie, trailing behind you like a shadow and you hate the way you feel, guilt bubbling in your veins when you realize how strongly he bears the resemblance of a kicked puppy.

You shake your head, clutching your fist to your chest. “I’m not in the wrong” you whisper softly to yourself, over and over again, even as you bow to the teacher and make your way to the seat. You ignore the strange glance Komatuska Kirin gives you when she overhears.

You fill your pages with the words you whisper instead of the class notes even though you know you’ll regret this decision later tonight.

I’mnotwrongit’sonlyuntilqualifiers

I’m not in the wrong

They lose the game, 24-26.

You clench your fists near your chest, the bottles of sports drinks you had bought for them pressing their weight heavily onto your legs as you watch the Aoba Johsai team stare disbelievingly at their hands and then Karasuno.

When they bow to the crowd, you bite back your shouts of protest, to tell them it isn’t over, go back on the court, it’s not over, it’s not over, go back, go back!

It’s too soon

You can’t bring yourself to look over at Karasuno, their cries of happiness falling short on deaf ears.

When the players file towards the locker room, you’re one of the first few amongst the crowd to leave, plastic bag swinging wildly in your hand despite its weight and when the players begin to come out of the locker room, they stare in surprise as you hunch over out of breath in front of the door.

“We shouldn’t be surprised that our biggest fan is the first person to greet us at the door,” Yahaba says, slapping Kindaichi’s back. “Hold her bags”

Kindaichi’s mouth can’t move as fast as his thoughts come out, words spilling into each other and apologies and greetings becoming one as his calloused hands grip the handles of the bag. You straighten up, holding onto his shoulder and his face turns red from the proximity.

“It’s for you guys” You gesture to the bag, “I bought them for you all”

“As expected of our biggest fan” Oikawa says, scaring you when he wraps an arm behind you out of nowhere “Always taking care of us”

You roll your eyes at him, turning to face him properly and hold his face in your hands. He makes a comment or two about how close you are to him and if you want to kiss me cutie-chan, you definitely can and if it was any other day, you’d head butt him just like Iwaizumi but you don’t. Instead, your eyes dart back and forth from the red on his cheeks and the sweat on his brows and you press the tips of your finger into him slightly harder and he gets the message

“I’m okay” He tells you, hands coming up to rest on your wrist “I’m okay”

“Shut up idiot, I’m just checking to make sure your brain is still functioning after working this hard for so long” You snap but the relief is evident in your body from the way you relax your fingers against him

You turn to find Hanamaki behind you and he lets out a grunt when you smack your fist into his chest before forcing him down to your height and he only sighs, knocking your forehead with his gently.

“I’m okay”

When you look for Matsukawa, he raises his eyebrows at you. “If you’re going to hit me, stay far away” You scowl at his words but he bends down to meet your gaze and tell you he’s okay.

“It’s gonna look a little weird if you don’t talk to Iwaizumi” Matsukawa tells you, pointedly looking at where the Ace sat on the bench holding his head in between his hands and you are very aware of Kunimi watching you with every passing moment you’re not talking to Iwaizumi so you crinkle your nose.

The bench is cold under your legs and you involuntarily let out a sharp breath of air and shiver as your body attempted to get used to it. Iwaizumi watches your legs bounce and shake before reaching out to place a hand on your knee, a gentle way of telling you to stop.

You still your movements, goosebumps pricking along your skin at where his hand lay and before he could pull away, you rest your hand on top of his and wait.

The spaces in between his fingers are filled with your own, the back of your hand looking impossibly small when compared to his.

Neither of you move a muscle, both of you waiting to see who would make the first move.

You decide you’ll take the initiative

“Hey”

If he hears you, you don’t notice it.

You try again, a little louder this time. “Hey”

This time he grunts, lifting his head a little to look at you. You lift your hands, placing them on the side of his face to force him to stare straight at you and if you weren’t so nervous, you’d laugh at his wide eyed, mouth agape reaction.

Your face is hot, you know it and judging from the snickers from behind you as Matsukawa watches, it’s not exactly subtle on your skin. You lean forward, Iwaizumi scrunching up his face because he’s sure you’re going to headbutt him like he’s done to you so many times before, slightly startled when you only press your head against him.

He doesn’t react and you’re frozen in place, silently berating yourself for pushing yourself onto him so quickly, wondering when was the right time to pull away but then he takes a deep shuddering breath and the hand that’s on your knee grips it tighter for a second, but then it’s gone just as fast as it came.

“I’m okay” he whispers, slow and steady, “I’m okay”

His eyelids flutter shut, dark lashes making long shadows against his sharp cheekbones. You nod, beginning to pull away but stop when he grabs your wrist, calloused hands against your skin.

“Just a little more” He whispers

You bite your lip and nod, ignoring your heartbeat which was definitely beating much faster than normal, moving to lace your fingers around the back of his neck.

“I’m really sorry” Iwaizumi whispers, so quietly your ears strain to hear him. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you and I don’t have an excuse for any of it. I know you’re mad at me still and you’re allowed to be and take all the time you need but-”

He puts a little more pressure into your forehead to the point where you wince against him

“- I truly am sorry”

You wonder if the universe is telling you something you’re just not getting

“Yeah, I know”

When you unclasp your hands to rub soothing circles into the back of his neck, Iwaizumi lets his shoulders relax against your touch.

You don’t say it but he already knows, whispering his thanks underneath his breath because you’ve already forgiven him.

#iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime imagine #hq #hq fanfic #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

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kerwritesthings · 4 years

Text

Walking Hand in Hand

Summary: It’s been a long time coming, but when the moment is right you cannot help but say yes

Word Count: 2,120

Warnings: a whole lot of fluff and feels

Author Notes: This story, this part kind of was always a thing for me. I knew that I wanted to get them here. It niggled at me when I was writing the first part, I just needed to get them there the right way. I did entirely too much research on the fashion of this and yes, they’re legit items I found. #thedevilsinthedetails

This was another one of those sit down and words just came type pieces. Another 2k in about two hours. It’s crazy. I love this little ‘verse of mine so much. It’s brought my muse back from her mini hibernation that hit prior to the holidays. I want to work on my own original piece, but she wants to play with Shawn. So, I’m not going to tell her no. First part, second part, third part all linked up here.

There was an underlying purpose to this trip, aside from getting to spend time outside the bitter cold during the dead of winter in the sunshine of the west coast. It was the start of the season, and this was a big one, so finally you were going to be a part of the hoopla with him.

You weren’t a secret – it never, ever was that from moment one with the two of you. You just made a conscious decision, that he completely supported you on, to not be in the spotlight like that. You would be there, for everything and anything he ever asked you to be present for, but there was never the need to be the draped accessory or be out wildly in front of the cameras on a red carpet. You also wanted it to remain about him, the music, his hard work. Not who he was sleeping with. He respected you, respected that decision. It also gave you a sense of security when you were first together, with your own non-industry professional goals and blossoming career, that you weren’t ‘that girl’ with Shawn Mendes.

But now, with how important this last album was, the scope of all the nominations, and with what you two were settling into, where it was all heading with your relationship, you made the decision. And this time, it was an easy one: it was a yes. His eyes went wide when you told him, his lips half quirked in smile before tackle hugging you.

Fast forward to the day before the awards, and you’re sitting cross-legged in just one of his sweaters and a pair of boy shorts on the floor of a lofty studio in West Hollywood.

“Do you need help back there?” you call, fighting back a laugh. “It’s a suit and you’re a boy, it should not take you that long to get ready.”

He sticks his head out from behind the shoji, shoulders still bare and blows a raspberry at you. You stick your tongue out at him in retaliation.

“Unless you’re planning on using it, I wouldn’t do that,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“Enough with you, get that suit on already,” a voice calls out from the opposite side of the room.

“Now you’re getting me in trouble,” he exaggeratedly pouts and flicks back behind the screen. “I’ll remember this.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him as the owner of that stern voice plops down on the floor next to you, patting your knee.

“I’m so glad we get to play together on this,” Tiff starts. “I know he’s trying to play it all cool but let me tell you he’s been buzzing a special way about this one. Had to be way more hands on to what he was wearing. Couldn’t clash with what you were thinking. He kept telling me he had to look good for you and had to be the good arm candy for you tomorrow night.”

You can’t help but flush. This man of yours.

“Don’t worry,” she continues. “He knows nothing. I just made sure you two would look good together for photos. He kept trying to press on a color, any type of details. I told him it’s a dress.”

You both giggle. The stylist kindly offered her help, the two of you back and forth over emails and late-night texts what you wanted, what you didn’t, colors, whose style did you like. There was one designer that was a total pipe dream, you thought there was no way, but luckily one email and a lovely conference call later, dream became reality. You had one fitting while he was still away on the last show swing, a whirlwind day in the brightly lit townhouse you had only seen on Instagram. The rest would be handled here in LA with the team and with Tiff.

“You know it was more because you’ve been making your own name outside of his, yeah?” she explains. “Being with this pain in the ass was just the added bonus. Plus, first carpet look? That’s a getter.”

“Ladies, I’m right here you know,” he calls out. “Hey Tiff, can you help…”

She scurries to her feet and heads behind to him, “Wait wait, please don’t fuck anything up!”

“Am I seeing this today or waiting until tomorrow?” you ask, stretching your legs and wiggling your toes. A mani/pedi was on tap for later, prepping your feet for the destruction of the strappy heels awaiting you.

“Am I seeing yours today?” he replies in turn.

“Not the same. Other than less bed head, and probably more bling, you’re gonna look the same tomorrow. Me, I need all the glam help I can get. Pineapple hair and a couture gown do not go together, my darling,” you say.

He sticks a hand out from the shoji, flipping you off.

“Remind me why I agreed to do this?” you sigh, flopping back on the floor.

“Cause you love me. Or at least I think you do,” he quips.

You hear him murmuring to Tiff. He’s probably trying to get any final details out of her while making sure he’s got his look on lock.

Next thing you know, Tiff is back and pulling you up off the floor towards the other side of the studio, “Your turn!”

The gasp you let go when you see the final dress, it’s perfect. You can’t wait.

You stay downtown that night, easier to get ready and even easier to get to the carpet. It’s quiet, just the two of you. Room service and a fluffy bed.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your temple you both settle into down into the duvet, his one arm coming around to hold you tighter to him, feeling his breath tickle your face. “I know I probably have said it before, but I want to say it again. Thank you, and I love you. More than I can even explain. I’m so fucking happy you’re here and that I get to have you tomorrow for this.”

“Need to be able to kiss my man when he wins his first Grammy,” you say softly before pressing your lips against his jaw. “It’s me and you versus the world, right? So, we may as well let the world really know that, yeah?”

He kisses you, slow and soft and deep, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.

“Only and always me and you versus the world, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.

Your suite is a buzz the next day, you are whisked away to the bedroom while Shawn is exiled to the sitting room for you both to start getting ready.

“Love you,” you mouth before the door shuts.

After a few hours of primping, curling, shuffling, squeezing, a few happy tears and a whole lot of singing along to your boyfriend’s album, which causes him to call through the door a few times making fun of you, you’re finally ready.

Tiff sneaks back into your room to help with the finishing touches on your dress.

“He’s trying not to pace, but he’s antsy as anything. God help us on your wedding day,” she exhales, sliding the last eye hook closed on your dress.

You turn to look at her, jaw dropping slightly.

“Shit, shit I’m sorry. But like girl come on, you know that’s where this is headed. He’s talked about it too you know. You’re endgame,” she says, squeezing your elbow. “This dress is perfection. He’s not going to know what hit him. Lemme go make sure he’s not wearing out the carpet.”

You take a deep breath, count to ten and put your hand on the door handle.

“You ready out there?” you call out.

“For like the last hour, baby,” he replies. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Sliding out from behind the door, your eyes lock. You always knew he was beautiful, unfairly gorgeous, but tonight is something else. He’s in black, head to toe minus the hint of the deeper shimmering grey in his shirt and the silvery shine glimmering from around his neck. The jacket though is something else, a subtle black on black snakeskin pattern with a shawl collar. His hair, the perfect riotous mess of loops and swirls of his curls.

“So, this is how my rockstar cleans up for the big night? You’re so handsome, Shawn. This is such a look,” you say as you make your way to him, hands lightly sliding up then down the front of his jacket, before tangling your fingers with his. He’s just looking at you, blinking, not saying anything, his thumbs a soothing rhythm over the tops of your hands. Then he takes a step back, still leaving your hands tangled.

“I am the luckiest. You look, like you’re always pretty and gorgeous and lovely. You know I think that. But you’re just, you’re this. God, I don’t even think I can figure out the right words,” he babbles, holding you at arm’s length to take you in. “This dress, you. You’re a fucking vision. It’s so perfectly you.”

“Cause it’s a custom Siriano,” you hear Tiff chime in. It’s everything you ever wished for in a dress. You knew your first time out on a carpet, the last thing you wanted was splashes of color or massive attention, but you still wanted to look good next to Shawn. Black and gunmetal grey interwoven, with the scalloped beading on the skirt and a swath of black chiffon to soften the top. Not too form fitting, not too much cleavage but enough to make you look feminine, feel sexy. Enough to be worthy of the man standing in front of you.

His eyes widen and you nod bashfully.

“Tiff’s work, all her help. I was happy with whatever and off a rack at that, but she asked for a wish list. She went right for the top,” you explain. “I still can’t believe it.”

“We’re sending him a case of champagne tomorrow,” he says to Tiff. “Now, can just I have a moment with my girl before the world takes us?”

Everyone scurries around the room and Shawn pulls you into the bedroom, door shutting with a click.

“I’m glad you don’t have sticky lipstick on yet to fuck up,” he mutters before slinging his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

“I guess you hate it, then?” you laugh, kissing him briefly and softly again.

“Ok, one more then we need to stop or we’re going to have some problems. Well, no I’ll have some problems. Plus, the girls will want to powder the two of us to death before we go and gloss you out most likely. Which we should get moving anyway. Sooner we’re there, less hoopla to navigate around on the carpet,” he says, opening the door to pull you both back out into the main room.

He’s right. There’s more powder, some tugging and straightening, more scent sprayed about and a swipe of lipstick for you before you are shuffling downstairs to the waiting car. Staying close to the venue, the ride isn’t long despite the lineup of cars ahead of you. Your nerves start to kick in a little, worrying at the seam of your bag with your index finger.

“Breathe for me baby,” he says, snagging your hand to intertwine with his. “Promise you, it won’t be that bad. First one is always a bit of a shock to the system, but it’s nothing more than a fancy little walk is all. ‘Cept this time, I get to be hand in hand with my favorite person.”

You look over, his smile easing some of the tension sitting in your chest.

“Shawn, what if…” you begin.

“Nope, there’s none of that. Not ever and especially not tonight. Not when you and I look like a fucking power couple,” he drops a kiss to your knuckles. “This is just a fancier date night, just happens to be a couple hundred more people on it with us is all.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby. As much as I love this dress, I really cannot wait to take you out of it later,” he says, dusting a light kiss to your neck just below your ear just as the car pulls to a stop and you hear a knock against the car window. “You ready? I’m going to be right there. You and me.”

You lean in to rub your nose against his gently just before the door opens, “Always you and me.”

TAG LIST: @loveat2am, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @whenidance

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes fluff

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winchester-fantasies · 4 years

Text

Backtrack - Summer of ‘98: Chapter 6

Backtrack Masterlist

Series Summary: What if you were the one Dean came to instead of Lisa? Rewrite of “Swan Song” and some of S6.

Word Count: 3589

Warnings: smut, first time, virgin reader, fluff, some swearing

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

A/N: Chapter 6′s song: Hideaway (Kiesza Cover) by Eliza Shaddad.

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

Mid-August ‘98

You tied the straps of your bikini behind your neck before slipping on your sheer cover-up and going to your closet, pulling out your most comfortable pair of flip-flops.

You and Dean were going to a beach party tonight. It was Andrea’s twenty-first birthday, and she had decided to have it on the beach. You were beyond excited for her and couldn’t wait to celebrate.

But you were also a little nervous. This weekend would be two months since you and Dean had become an item. To some it might have seemed minuscule, but it was everything to you.

You’d only ever had one boyfriend before Dean, and with Caleb everything had felt rushed, demanding. But with Dean it just felt...right. He had been the attentive and doting boyfriend; you were never without kisses and cuddles, and your bed was beginning to look like a five-year-old's dream, what with the amount of Beanie Babies Dean had given you. But you couldn’t fault him. He was the best boyfriend you could ever wish for.

You threw your hair into a ponytail and grabbed your sunglasses before heading downstairs. Leah was hanging out with friends and your mom and dad had some dinner party to attend so the house was quiet as you descended the stairs. Once on the main floor, you turned on a lamp before leaving, locking the door behind you.

You ran next door to the Winchesters’, letting yourself inside. You could hear the TV as you walked through the kitchen and into the living room, finding Sam sitting on the sofa. He grinned when you entered. “Hey, (Y/N)!” he greeted.

“Hey,” you said in return, plopping down next to him.

You’d become a regular at the Winchester house since you and Dean had become official and more often than not, Sam was there, too. You both had grown close and Sam quickly became the little brother you’d always dreamed of having.

You’d met their dad once or twice but never for long, and when you did see him longer than a few minutes, he was always quiet, gruff, and reserved. He had a sadness about him that seemed to keep him closed off to most people, including his sons. Dean had divulged to you that their mom had died when Sam was just six months old, leaving Dean with a gaping hole only a mother could fill and John with a chasm of hopelessness.

John would sometimes be gone for weeks at a time, leaving Sam and Dean alone. And although Dean had taken on a few odd jobs here and there, it wasn’t nearly enough to see him and Sam clothed and fed. So you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure they had enough food throughout the time John would be gone and nearly every night found both brothers dining with you and your family. Not that your parents minded. They had taken an instant liking to Dean.

“You coming to the party tonight?” you asked Sam.

“Nah,” Sam shook his head. “I think I’m just gonna stay in. I saw there was a new documentary on tonight so I’ll probably just watch that.”

“Nerd,” you teased, playfully ruffling his shaggy hair. Sam grinned, his dimples pronounced.

“Is your dad gone again?” you asked.

“Yep,” Sam said matter-of-factly but made no move to divulge more.

“Do you know how long he’s gonna be gone this time?” you asked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Not really,” Sam said. “Probably a few days,” he added with a shrug.

You nodded and pursed your lips. “Do you have anything to eat?”

“Dean got a few snacks from the store earlier,” Sam said, eyes trained on the screen.

“Okay,” you said. “Well, we have leftover pizza in the fridge at home so help yourself. You know where the spare key is.”

Sam turned towards you, a smile once again spreading across his lips. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“No problem,” you said, gently jostling his shoulder with yours. “I’m gonna go find, Dean.”

You got up from the couch before turning down a long hallway. Dean’s room was at the end and you could see light seeping from under the closed door, music drifting through the wood.

You rapped lightly on the door before you heard Dean’s voice telling you to come in. You turned the knob, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you.

You gaped as you glanced up. Dean stood in front of his closet, silently surveying the contents, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted with a grin, turning his head to look at you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, going to his side.

“Well, I was trying to decide if I should go like this or change back into jeans and a t-shirt,” Dean said thoughtfully.

“Definitely like this,” you said, more desire than you’d intended seeping from your voice.

“Oh, really?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow and giving you a sideways look.

You felt your cheeks redden and you shrugged. “I mean, only if you really want to.”

“Hmm,” Dean hummed, turning his body towards you before reaching out and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “It’s not really my thing, but I think my girl likes it,” he said with a wink and a cocky smirk.

You felt your cheeks grow even warmer at his flirting, but you made no move to stop him, instead finding yourself flirting back. “Maybe,” you said coyly, biting your lower lip and looking up at him through your lashes.

“Mm,” Dean growled, his eyes darkening. “You can’t keep biting your lip like that, baby. Drives me crazy.”

“Maybe that’s why I do it,” you teased, sinking your teeth into your lip once more for good measure.

Dean groaned at the sight, and his grip on you tightened. “Seriously, you gotta stop that,” Dean warned.

“Or what?” you asked innocently, quirking your eyebrow.

“Or I might just have to show you what it does to me…” Dean whispered.

“Why don’t you then?” you asked, surprised at your boldness.

Dean seemed slightly taken aback by it as well before he leaned down suddenly, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your hands roaming the bare skin of his back.

His tongue slid past your lips and into your mouth, exploring and tasting. Dean tended to be a passionate lover, and you found yourself getting lost in him more and more everyday. You knew you were falling in love with him, and as hard as you tried to hold yourself back, to not get too attached, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Dean finally broke the kiss but didn’t let you go. He reached up, caressing your cheek in his large and calloused hand. His eyes held something you couldn’t quite decipher, but it was something you wanted to witness everyday.

“We should probably get going,” Dean murmured, seeming reluctant to let you go.

“Yeah,” you breathed, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever.

But Dean finally pulled away, and you found yourself instantly longing for him once again. You walked downstairs, saying goodbye to Sam before stepping out into the warm evening. Dean took your hand once you reached the sidewalk, making your way towards the beach.

Dean was unusually quiet and you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. His head was bowed slightly as he stared at the ground, lost in his own thoughts, and you wondered what was on his mind.

“Earth to Dean,” you said good-naturedly, squeezing his hand lightly.

He looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Sorry,” he said with a light chuckle. “I was just thinking….”

He paused longer than you expected, and you glanced at him questioningly. He darted his eyes once more in your direction before casting his gaze to the ground again. “I was just thinking about how much I lo...like...being with you.”

A wide grin spread across your lips and you leaned into him, your hand that wasn’t clasped in his, gripping his arm. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly as Dean leaned over to place a chaste and gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I like being with you, too,” you whispered, your chest swelling with an emotion you’d never felt before.

The party was already in full swing when you reached the beach. Music blasted from the old boombox and a large bonfire blazed as the ocean waves lapped at the beach.

“Hey, guys!” Andrea exclaimed, running over to you and Dean and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey,” you said, laughing.

“Happy birthday, Andy,” Dean said, sending her a wink.

“Thanks, dude,” she returned. “C’mon over! There’s beer, food….”

You laughed again as Andrea all but dragged you over to the bonfire, Dean trailing behind. Andrea reached into the massive cooler, taking out a couple cans of beer and handing them to both you and Dean.

“Thanks,” you said, popping open the can and taking a sip. “I thought the party didn’t start till 7:00,” you commented, looking around at the crowd.

“It was supposed to,” Andrea said. “But it had a mind of its own, I guess,” she chuckled.

Andrea suddenly rose to her tiptoes, waving wildly as one of her other friends showed up. “Hey, I gotta go,” she said hurriedly. “But help yourself to the food,” she said, gesturing to the hot dogs and s’mores fixings sitting on a small table. You watched as Andrea scampered off before heading over to the food.

You sat down in front of the fire while Dean went to the table, bringing back a plate and settling down next to you. He took one of the roasting sticks and skewered a hot dog before handing it to you and doing the same to his. You both thrust them near the fire, watching as the flames cook the meat.

You were enjoying the crackling fire and the sounds of festivity in amicable silence when one of your favorite songs came on. Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your mouth as you slowly started swaying back and forth.

Dean suddenly got up from beside you and held out his hand to you. You looked at him questioningly, but he gave no explanation, instead gesturing for you to take his hand. You took it, giving him a suspicious look before he led you to the other side of the bonfire.

He abruptly stopped, pulling you into him, his hands resting on your hips. You laughed as he began to move his body, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You moved lazily together, your feet sinking and carving abstract patterns in the sand. Dean stared at you tenderly, and you couldn’t stop the butterflies that filled your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his thumb running across your hip gently.

You smiled softly, your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his skull. You were about to say something when Dean suddenly stepped away, grasping your hand and pulling you away from the crowd.

“Wh...where are we going?” you asked breathlessly as you tried to keep up with his long strides.

“I wanna show you something,” he said with a smirk and a wink.

Your stomach flipped as you let him lead you towards a small grove of trees set a ways away from the beach. The sounds of the party soon faded, giving way to the soft sounds of night.

Dean led you through the trees, helping you step over the loose leaves and small limbs that had fallen to the ground. You gasped when you finally came to the other side of the grove. You stood at the edge of a high cliff overlooking a cove. The sounds of the sea filled the air and the salty breeze blew around you, softly caressing your skin and moving a few strands of hair across your face.

“Wow,” you breathed, shocked that you’d never seen this part of the beach before. “Dean, this is beautiful!”

“It is,” he agreed. “I come here when I’m feeling stressed or when everything feels a little too heavy. It’s my escape…. And I wanted to share it...with you.”

You turned to him, his face lit only by the moon hanging low in the sky. “Thank you for sharing it with me,” you murmured, stepping closer to him. You raised your hand to his face, trailing your fingertips along his jaw.

His breath hitched and his own hands found you, settling on your hips before sliding around to rest on the small of your back. He pulled you forward gently, your chest pressing into his.

You stared into one another’s eyes, reverent, longing. You could have stayed there in that moment for eternity. There was something different about tonight. A shift; something you hadn’t felt between you before. So when he leaned down to press his lips against yours, you couldn’t control the warmth that filled your stomach as electricity rushed through your body.

He shifted slightly, his hands sliding under your cover-up, fingers skimming over the flesh of your sides.

Since you’d gotten together he was never demanding or impatient - always careful and thoughtful, never touching where you didn’t feel comfortable. But tonight you felt yourself beginning to drown in everything that was Dean, and you didn’t even care. Because tonight you would happily sink.

Your breathing was labored and you were lightheaded when you finally parted. “I want you, Dean,” you whispered, your faces still close enough you could feel the moment the air rushed from his lungs.

“(Y/N), a...are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure,” you said, running your fingers over his temple. “I want to be yours...completely.”

Before you could register what was happening, Dean had you pressed against a tree, his lips pressing into yours with more yearning than you ever thought possible. You kissed him back just as hard, your hands grasping at him blindly, wanting him as close as possible.

He abruptly stepped away, reaching for the hem of your cover-up and pulling it over your head before reaching for you, swinging you around before gently lowering you to the ground, resting himself between your thighs as you spread your legs. He continued to kiss you before leaving your mouth and trailing his lips down your neck and to your breasts, kissing the tops of the supple flesh.

Arousal washed over you, and your hands left his body, reaching behind you and fumbling for the tie at the back of your neck. You finally undid it, quickly slipping the bikini top off.

Dean inhaled sharply, his eyes raking over your bare chest. “Fuck, (Y/N), you’re beautiful.”

You felt a blush creep up your neck at his praise before he leaned forward, his mouth latching onto one of your nipples. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from your mouth.

You were sure you could’ve cum just from his current ministrations, but he soon left your breasts, kissing down your torso until he reached the waistband of your bikini bottoms. He looked up at you before you nodded, his fingers slipping underneath and sliding them off.

You shyly spread your legs once he’s dropped the bottoms beside him, and you bit your lip as you watched his face light up at the sight of your wetness glistening in the moonlight.

“Shit, baby,” he breathed, his fingers traveling along your slit.

You shuddered as he made contact with your clit and you bucked slightly. “Dean,” you mewled, reaching out for him.

“Wait, baby,” he said, running his hands up and down the inside of your thighs. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

You whimpered as he lowered himself between your thighs, his fingers spreading your wet lips before leaning in, his tongue sliding through your folds a few times before finally settling on your clit.

A loud moan escaped your throat as he licked and sucked on your sensitive clit. The sensation was almost too much, and you found yourself tangling your fingers into his hair, searching for anything to hold onto.

“Dean,” you moaned, closing your eyes and reveling in the pleasure. You tensed slightly as he gently inserted his finger into your core, but a tender squeeze of his hand on your thigh reminded you to relax.

He continued to lap at your clit as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of you. It felt somewhat foreign but it wasn’t uncomfortable and before long you felt your orgasm approaching.

Dean crooked his fingers and with that you came, his name echoing through the night as you ground yourself on his face.

You chuckled breathily, swiping the back of your hand across your sweaty brow as Dean rose to his feet. You could see how aroused he was, the front of his swim trunks tented.

You swallowed hard as he pulled his trunks down in one swift movement, his cock springing free. Your stomach twisted in trepidation as the gravity of the situation settled over you. You were going to have sex. For the first time. With Dean. He knew you weren’t experienced, and although it hadn’t seemed to bother him, what if you disappointed him?

Dean seemed to sense your apprehension because he was smiling softly and reassuringly as he settled back between your legs. “Hey, (Y/N). Baby,” Dean said gently, running his thumb over your cheek. “We don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind. I’m in this for the long haul. But I’m telling you right now that there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re beautiful, and I want you so fucking bad it’s not even funny.”

Your sent him a half-smile, sliding your hands along the tops of his shoulders. “I want you, Dean. I really do.” You paused, tracing patterns along his chest absentmindedly. “But...what if I disappoint you? Wh...what if you don’t want me after this?”

Dean remained silent, and when you glanced up, you could see his hard expression even in the dark. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice deeper and gruffer than you’d ever heard it. “None of what you said is true. I could never not want you, and you could never, ever disappoint me.” He leaned down, peppering your face with soft kisses. “You’re perfect….”

He kissed along your jaw, traveling down to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. An all new wave of arousal washed over you, and you gripped his shoulders. “Dean,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his erection, silently begging.

Dean didn’t say anything as he reached between your bodies, lining himself up with you before pushing himself inside. It was strange, and this time there was a slight sting, but he was understanding and gentle as he pressed forward, pausing every few minutes to allow you to adjust.

He stopped once he was completely sheathed within your depths, forehead pressed against your own. “You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, leaning up, pressing a kiss into the side of his mouth. “I’m ready.”

It was Dean’s turn to nod before he gently pulled his hips back before pushing back in. He set a slow and steady pace, carefully watching your face.

After a few minutes the discomfort faded away, giving way to pleasure. The moment he felt you relax around him, he groaned, his face contorting as he fully allowed himself to enjoy the moment. “Shit, baby,” he grunted, gritting his teeth to keep himself from coming undone too soon. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Dean, please,” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders.

Dean understood your plea, his pace picking up. His hand slid down your thigh, hooking behind your knee and raising your leg around his waist. You nearly fell apart as he plunged in deeper, hitting your sweet spot.

“Oh, my god,” you gasped. “Dean!”

Dean chuckled breathlessly as he continued to pound into you. “I know, baby.”

You shut your eyes, your head tipping back as your pleasure built to all new heights. Dean took advantage of your movement, his lips finding your neck.

You slid your hands from his shoulders to his quickly dampening back, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. Warmth filled your lower belly and your walls began to flutter.

Dean buried his face into your neck, his uneven pants ruffling the hair at your temple. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered.

And you did, clenching around him, a cry of praise erupting from the back of your throat. Your release pulled Dean with you, his hips stuttering and body tensing as he groaned deeply and emptied himself into you.

Dean pulled out, rolling off you, onto his back. He immediately reached for you, drawing you into his side. Dean’s fingers stroked your hip while his other hand found yours, lacing them together.

Your eyes soon grew heavy as you nuzzled your face into his chest, blissed out from the closeness you’d just experienced. You were on the verge of sleep when you felt Dean press a kiss onto your forehead, lingering. He pulled away, his hand continuing to stroke your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, right before you fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction series #backtrack #summer of '98

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 3 years

Text

You're the Closest to Heaven that I'll Ever Be

Title: You're the Closest to Heaven that I'll Ever Be - Chapter 1

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - College/University

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28560201/chapters/69990555

Summary: When Bucky asks Sam out, he never thought Sam would agree. Now he can't believe they're in a relationship. Sam could do much better than him!

Can Bucky overcome his insecurities to keep his relationship?

Written for @betheflame for @marvelfans4blm

“Would you, like, wannagooutsometime?” Bucky asks. Sam agrees! He can’t believe it.

He spends way too much time trying to pick out an outfit. Finally settling on his black skinny jeans, a maroon tshirt, and his black leather jacket, Bucky quickly gets ready to pick Sam up.

The campus theater is only a few blocks away from their dorms. Bucky walks over to Sam’s room so that they can walk to the theater together. It’s such a nice night anyways. Sam is ready when Bucky knocks on the door. He gives Bucky a smile and falls in line with him as they walk to the movies.

Wracking his brain for a suitable conversation, Bucky stammers out a comment about the weather. Why is it so hard for me to talk to Sam right now? I’ve never had this problem before. Sam must realize his awkwardness because he takes control of the conversation, telling Bucky about his psychology class.

The theater is having a throwback week. The movies scheduled for tonight are Back to the Future, The Breakfast Club, and Sixteen Candles. Sam is a huge Back to the Future nerd. Bucky enjoys watching him get excited over the minutest details. He barely watches the movie, as his focus swings back and forth between I love how happy Sam is about this and I can’t believe Sam would date me!

Once the movie is over, they head over to a little café where Bucky buys them both shakes and fries. He can’t help but melt when Sam beams at him. “You know me so well, Bucky!” The other man gushes. “It’s like we’re dating in an Archie comic!”

Conversation flows quickly after that. Bucky and Sam sit in their booth long after the waiter gives them their check. All too soon, they are shooed out of the café because it is closing. They walk slowly home, talking about the NFL trade deadline.

When Bucky walks Sam up to his door, awkwardness ensues. Am I supposed to kiss him? Was this like a date-date, or like…? Bucky thinks, panicking.

“Thanks for tonight.” Sam turns to him, hand in his sweatshirt pockets. “I had a lot of fun.”

Bucky smiles. “Your welcome. I-”

“Ooooh! It’s the doorstep scene. Are you gonna kiiiiiiiss?” Sam’s roommate, Clint, walks up behind them.

“Shut up, Clint,” Sam says good-naturedly. He gives Bucky a quick hug, thanks him again, and disappears inside his dorm.

Clint’s eyes go wide. “Were you – oh my bad – sorry man.” He gestures wildly. “Sorry Bucky.” Bucky just shakes his head wordlessly and walks back to his dorm. His roommate, Steve, is still up, watching Criminal Minds.

“So, how was your date?” Steve asks between mouthfuls of popcorn. Bucky grunts and walks to his room. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Have you ever wondered why someone would date you when they could do so much better than you?” Bucky asks during the Mechanical Engineering workshop the next day.

Tony Stark sets down his tools and lifts his goggles. “Yes, every day. Rhodey is way better than me.”

“What do you do? Like how do you make sure he stays?”

“Well, I like to think that it’s my charm.” Tony grins widely. “But I try to do something super nice for him as much as I can. Like last week, we went skydiving then ate dinner in the private room of the Four Seasons. The steak was…” and he kisses his fingertips. “delicio. And then last month, I took him on a vacation in Tahiti…”

Bucky listens to Tony’s rant, but he soon realizes that Tony forgets that not everyone is a trust-fund son of a billionaire. The one thing that does stick, however, is that he will have to make some grand gestures to make sure Sam doesn’t realize how much better he could do than Bucky.

Steve asks Bucky again how the date went when they go out for lunch. Bucky reveals his fears to Steve, who, ever the loyal best friend, vehemently states that Bucky is just fine the way he is, and if Sam doesn’t like it, he can walk. Bucky wants to mention that he doesn’t want Sam to walk away but he can’t really get a word in as Steve lists all of Bucky’s attributes.

“I don’t know what to do.” Bucky mumbles to himself. Should he call Sam? Or is that seen as too clingy? Unsure of what to do, he hangs around Thor and Heimdall’s dorm all afternoon.

“My friend,” Heimdall finally takes a seat on the couch next to him. “Not that we don’t mind you hanging around, but why are you? Didn’t you go on a date with Sam last night?”

Bucky groans. “Yeah, but I think I screwed it up.”

“Why is that?” Bucky hates the way Heimdall seems to see right through him.

“Well I took him to a movie and then to the Shake Shoppe. They were having a throwback night. I don’t know, I feel like I should have gone more all out. Like he’s so much better than me. Then, you know, I walk him to his door. I’m not sure if we’re going to hug, kiss, or just fist bump, you know?” Heimdall closes his eyes slowly with a give me strength look. “So then, his roommate, Clint walks up and asks us if we’re going to kiss. I panic, and Sam just walks inside. Just walking inside is never good, right? And I don’t want to call him or find him because I don’t want to look clingy. We’ve only gone on one date!”

“Did Sam seem like he didn’t enjoy the date?” Thor questions.

Bucky thinks back. “He never said that. In fact, he told me that it was like a page out of an Archie comic. But why would he just shut the door in my face?”

“I think you should give him a call or find him.” Heimdall gestures to the door. “Then you’ll know. If he thought the date was pure shit, well, then you never have to go out with him again. But if he enjoyed the date, which is the more likely case, you can go out again. Nothing good ever comes from miscommunication.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll take the hint.”

Bucky leaves. He does not, however, call Sam.

Read more on AO3

#sambucky #background Ironhusbands #marvelfans4blm #i write!

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fanfiction27878 · 5 years

Text

Promises

Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader

Rating - PG

Warning - Teenage pregnancy

“Hey Mal I really have to tell you something before you go.” I say to my best friend Mal nervously toying with the zipper on my leather jacket. “Im pre...” I get cut off by Mal’s mother calling her. “I’m sorry (Y/N) tell me when we get the wand. I’ll be back for you promise.” Mal says giving me a quick hug before going to her mother.

I want to break down as my best friends drive away in a limo leaving me by myself and pregnant. I just found out that I was three months pregnant with my boyfriends child today after visiting the witches of the Isle. I haven’t been feeling good for the past few weeks and now I know why. I feel even worse knowing that my best friends have left me.

My names (Y/N) by the way. I’m the daughter of the Queen Of Hearts although I haven’t seen my mother for 6 years when I started living with the gang in our hideout. I have also been secretly dating Harry Hook for the past year. I was never mean to Uma and we are actually really good friends. Me and Gil are great friends also although my gang doesn’t know that. Uma and Gil found out about me and Harry about 6 months ago when we were sneaking around.

Now I just have to tell Harry that I’m pregnant and pray to Hades he doesn’t leave me. I slowly walk to the chip shoppe knowing that’s where Harry will be. I walk in and over to where Harry, Uma, and Gil were eating fries.

“Hey love.” Harry calls as he sees me patting the seat next to him. “Hi Harry.” I say sitting down and pecking him on the lips. “Hi (Y/N).” Gil andUma say at the same time. “Hey guys.” I say in response. I then start to bite my lip trying to build up my courage to tell them about the baby growing inside of me.

“What’s wrong? You only bite your lip when your nervous.” Harry asks. I can’t help it, Harry can read me like an open book. “Mal and the rest of the gang were invited to Auradon and there going to try and steal Fairy Godmothers wand to get us out of here.” I didn’t mean to tell them that. I meant to tell them I’m pregnant but they needed to know that anyway. Uma and Gil start celebrating.

Harry’s face in neutral when he asks, “What’s really wrong?” “I’m pregnant.” I say quietly. Gil and Uma immediately stop there jaws dropping. I look towards Harry next. His eyes are wide. “Harry... say something please.” I quietly plea. “We’re going to be parents!” He says excitement in his voice. He pulls me in for a kiss before hugging me. I can hear Gil and Uma chanting about how there going to be aunts and uncles. The crew behind us are cheering.

A few weeks later everyone found out that Mal was meant to steal the wand tonight at the princes coronation. Me, Harry, Uma, and Gil sit on the couches in front of the television is the restaurant. The rest of the crew is behind us. I look down to see the tiny bump in my stomach.

“Have you though of a name yet?” Uma asks. She’s been so happy since I told everyone I was pregnant. We even made Uma and Gil godparents. “Not yet.” Harry answers for me. His arms around my shoulder and he’s holding my hand. “What about Hailee if it’s a girl.” Gil says. “You know what I like that name.” I tell them.

Our conversation is cut short though when the coronation starts. A few minutes in the wand is taken out of Fairy Godmothers hand. The crew around us starts to cheer but we just stay silent and watch the rest. That’s when we see it’s a different girl who stole the wand. She starts swinging it wildly and the ground begins to shake.

Harry grips me tighter. That’s when Mal wrestles the wand out of the girls hand. I perk up excited that maybe we would get off this Hades forsaken island. That’s when Mal decides to be good. Everything goes downhill from there. Maleficent shows up and I’m sure you know what happens after that.

Gil looks sad on the couch. Uma’s ordering the crew around. Harry’s cursing while holding me tightly. Silent tears are running down my face. I cried myself to sleep that night in Harry’s arms. In our shared room on the ship. Those were the last tears I shed for my “friends”.

Mal decided to be good 8 months ago. My child Hailee Heart Hook was born 5 months ago. She was born two months early. She’s healthy though and that’s all me and Harry can hope for. My friends are helping though. Uma and Gil babysit when ever we need it. They absolutely adore Hailee. Them and my other friend Dizzy along with Harry grab all the baby food they can find.

Harry actually went to ask Dizzy if she had any food for Hailee because we were running low when he ran into the restaurant looking frantic. Uma was holding Hailee while I was holding Hailees bottle. Uma said, “What happened?” The same time I said, “Are you alright?” Harry takes a deep breath before answering “Mal’s back.” With those two words it’s like everything was closing in on me. The bottle toppled out of my hand slamming on to the floor.

———3rd POV———

“Dizzy, do you have anymore?” Harry asks her walking into Curl Up & Dye. “Yeah I grab them.” Dizzy says walking to the back. Harry turns around to see Mal in the back of the room. “Hi, Harry.” Mal says with a mocking wave. “Mal. What are you doing back here?” Harry asks her his signature smirk on his face.

“I got bored.” Mal says chewing her gum. “Uma will be happy to know your back. She’ll never give you your territory back.” Harry tells her. “It’s ok, because I’ll be taking it. I’m going to meet up with my friend (Y/N) and we’re taking your pirate crew down.” Mal tells him.

“(Y/N) isn’t with you anymore. She’s with us. You stay away from her. She’s better off without you.” Harry says to Mal the smirk falling off his face into a cold hard glare. “Here you go Harry.” Dizzy says handing Harry a bag of baby food. Harry takes it and leaves with a mock bow.

“You know Harry’s right (Y/N)s with Uma’s crew now. She’s really happy. You should just leave her alone.” Dizzy says before walking into the back leaving Mal and her thoughts.

———(Y/N) POV———

A few minutes after Harry tells us Mal is here Gil comes running into the restaurant. “Evie... Jay... Carlos... Ben.” Gil says panting. “Ben as in King Ben?” I ask rocking Hailee back in forth. “There on the Isle.” Gil tells us. That’s when Uma had the idea to kidnapped the King and use him as ransom for Fairy Godmothers wand.

“Grab him and be careful.” I order a few of the crew members pointing to the king passed out in the middle of a alleyway. Harry comes up from behind me wrapping his arms around my stomach. He lays his head down on my neck. “You didn’t have to knock him out.” I say to Harry.

“Yeah but what’s the fun in that.” Hardy responds. “Come on let’s go tell Mal she needs to meet Uma.” I say with a sigh. Harry just gets off of me and gives me a smile. We walk towards the gangs old hideout. Evie, Carlos, and Jay are there calling for Ben. A we walk out of the shadows Evie says, “Ben don’t scare us like that.” “Don’t scare you? That’s my specialty.” Harry responds.

I step out from behind Harry. “(Y/N)?” Carlos asks quietly. “We took the king. If you want him back have Mal come to the shoppe at 6pm today. Alone.” I tell them trying not to let too much emotion in my voice. “(Y/N)? What happened to you?” Jay asks trying to grab my hand.

Harry immediately steps in front of me and roughly throws Jays hand down. “Don’t touch her.” He says teeth clenched his protectiveness for me showing. Jay goes to run at Harry when Evie puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. We told them what we needed to let’s go Harry.” I say. He’s still glaring at Jay before reluctantly turning aroun. We walk back to the resturant his arm over my shoulder.

As we walk in Harry immediately goes and grabs Hailee from Uma’s arms. “Can you check on the king for me?” Uma asks a few minutes later. “Sure. Harry you coming?” I ask getting up. I’m the resident doctor for he crew because I’m the only one who can stitch a wound. “Yep.” Harry says popping the p.

We walk to the room on the ship the king is locked in. Harry’s trailing behind me. The only sound is Hailees giggles and our footsteps. I look behind me to find Harry making silly faces at Hailee to make her laugh. A smile immediately finds its way to my face.

I unlock the door and the king is sitting on the floor. Harry stands in the corner still playing with Hailee. “Hello Ben. My names (Y/N) I’m going to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” I tell him walking closer. “I need you to follow my finger with your eyes only.” I tell him.

The king is still silent but does as I say. “Is that your child?” Ben asks quietly. “Yes.” I tell him focusing on checking his head for injury. “You know Mal talks about you all the time. I’m sure if she knew you had a child she would make sure you came to Auradon.” Ben says.

“Well she doesn’t know.” I say snappily. “Is he the father?” Ben asks. “Aren’t you full of questions. Yes Harry is the father. I need you to get up and walk in a straight line.” I tell him. Ben gets up. “You’ll be fine. The worst is a headache.” I tel him. “Come on Harry.” I say going to leave. “I’ll get you all off the Isle. I promise.” Ben says. I stopped believing in promises when Mal left.

“How’s the king?” Uma asks as we walk back into the resturant. Harry goes to sit next to Gil while I answer Uma. “Fine.” I tell her. I look over to see Gil now holding Hailee. I can see her yawn. “Is it ok, if I put Hailee to sleep in your room?” I ask Uma.

“Of course. Her hippo stuffed animal is in her crib up there. Don’t be gone too long though. Mal should be here in a few minutes.” Uma informs me. I go and take Hailee from Gil with only a little fussing about her leaving her uncle. “Come on honey it’s nap time.” I tell Hailee laying her in bed. I put her blanket over her and her stuffed animal in her hand. She starts to cry as I quickly calm her down. A few minutes later she’s asleep and I’m heading down to the resturant.

I walk into the shoppe to see Mal’s an Uma arm wrestling. Uma’s loosing badly. Mal seems to loose some of her concentration when she sees me. I walk over to Harry as Uma says, “I win you bring me Fairy Godmothers wand.” Mal’s eyes turn normal and Uma slams her hand down.

Uma celebrates while Harry brings me in for a passionate kiss. Mal looks like she wants to come and talk to me but instead she walks out. Us and the crew celebrate the rest of the night.

———3rd POV———

“I can’t believe we have to give Uma the wand.” Carlos says with a sigh. Mal is pacing and biting her nails. “We can’t give Uma the wand.” Evie tells everyone. “I got it how about your 3D printer.” Mal says. “That’s a good idea I can print that in my sleep.” Jay says.

After a few moments of joy Evie says, “Did you see (Y/N)?” Everygrew quiet for a second before Mal says, “Yeah she was there.” “You know I can’t believe she betrayed us.” Jay says with a huff. “She didn’t betray us. We betrayed her. We left her to fend for herself while we lived it up in Auradon.” Carlos points out. “Didn’t you promise her we would be back?” Evie questions Mal.

“Yeah, but now she’s with Uma and the pirate crew. There were a bunch of other crews she could have joined. Plus she’s dating Harry.” Mal spits in disgust. “Harry loves her. I could see it in his eyes. When Jay went to grab (Y/N) Harry stepped in front of her and practically growled at Jay. He would have fought Jay for her.” Evie reasons.

———(Y/N) POV———

“Hey, love.” I hear a thick Scottish accent say. I wake up to Harry kissing my head. “Is Hailee up yet?” I ask Harry with a yawn. As soon as I say that Hailee starts crying. “I got her, Hearts.” Harry says getting up. “What are we going to do with her today?” I ask Harry. “Dizzy could watch her.” Harry says. “Ok. That should be fine.”

The king is currently tied up. The crew working hard around him. “Hey Gil you want to go to Dizzy’s with me?” I call to him. “Sure.” Gil says with a big smile. “Harry don’t kill the king while I’m gone.” I say walking over to Harry. He’s supposed to be watching the king. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Harry responds. “Me and Gil are going to drop Hailee off at Dizzy’s.” I tell him. I peck him on the lips and then we’re gone.

At 11:00 me and Gil are back on the ship after hanging with Dizzy for a littl bit. I’m currently babysitting Harry who’s babysitting the king. I have already taken away Harry’s Hook with a lot of pouting. It’s not my fault Harry was trying to kill the king. We still need him. “20 more minutes.” Harry says tauntingly holding up his pocket watch.

“That says 11:30 idiot.” I tell Harry. “Oh you love me.” Harry says turning to me. “Maybe just a little bit.” I say. As 12 struck Gil calls out, “There here.” That’s when they started there singing and dancing. It’s something they always do. Let me tell you I can’t sing so I just kind of watched and laughed. That’s when Harry started to sing. “Ok Harry. We get it. Chill.” I tell him pulling him back by his hook.

“Give us Ben.” Mal pleads. “Give me the wand.” Uma counters. I grab Ben from Harry making our way over to (Y/N). “I’m going to get all of you off the Isle. You, your child, everyone.@ Ben whispers quietly to me. I spin him towards me before saying quietly. “Don’t you dare tell Mal about Hailee.” I then turn him back around and give him to Uma.

Before I know it the wands a fake and we’re in a battle. I go for this new girl. “Your good.” I remark. “Thanks.” She says. “My names (Y/N).” I tell her. “Lonnie. Daughter of Mulan.” She says. “You know we could use you to train new recruits.” I say. “Oh no. I get sea sick.” She informs me. That’s when I see Jay dangling Harry’s Hook over the ocean. “Truce?” I ask putting my sword to my side. “Sure.” She says warily.

That’s when I heard the sound of a body hitting the water. “I have to go deal with someone.” I tell her before running towards where Harry was climbing out of the water. “Idiot.” I tell him. “I’m your idiot.” He says his signature smirk on his face.

We both run off to fight different people. Jay comes up to me and we are currently both in a heated battle. He tried to talk at first but I just ignored him. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Harry and Ben fighting. That’s when the smoke bombs went off. By the time the air cleared Mal and her gang were standing on the other side of the wood bridge. We all try to run at her but she kicks the bridge into the water. We lost. Mal left again, her and her broken promises.

———3rd POV———

The events of cotillion happened 3 weeks ago. Ben, Mal, Evie, Carlos, and Jay are standing outside of Auradon Prep waiting on new VKs to arrive. “So who’s coming anyway?” Mal asks turning to Ben. “Well there are 5 coming.” Evie then asks, “Why isn’t the rest of the school here?” “Well one of them... has sensitive ears.” Ben answers vaguely.

The limo pulls out and the first one out is Dizzy. She immediately runs up to Evie and gives her a big hug. “Oh my Hades! Dizzy. It’s great to see you.” Evie exclaims. The next one out is (Y/N). “(Y/N).” Mal breathes out. Soon Gil is bounding out. “Look at all the colors (Y/N).” He says excited. “I know Gil.” (Y/N) answers.

Uma steps out next and stands next to (Y/N) her arms crossed. None of the original VKs have moved since Gil came out of the car. The next one out is Harry. His hook is hooked on his jeans. He’s holding Hailee, as she’s wrapped in a bundle of blankets.

“Is that a baby?” Evie ask walking closer to Harry who was currently next to (Y/N). He visibly tensed when Evie started walking but (Y/N) put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “You guys have a baby?” Carlos asks confused pointing at (Y/N) and Harry. “Yeah, mate.” Harry answers.

“Aww. She’s so cute. What’s her name?” Evie practically squeals standing next to Harry. “Hailee. You can hold her if you want.” (Y/N) tells Evie. Evie smiles and takes Hailee from Harry. A promise broke them apart and another brought them together.

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monsterywriting · 5 years

Text

Demon Boyfriend (Dirrath) - pt 7

AN: Finally finished the next part for Dirrath, and the next part should be up very soon. it’s took me a hot minute to get back into the groove of things with classes, but Dirrath is officially back!

word count: 1,947

You lay awake on your lavish bed in the dark, the sinking feeling that something wasn’t quite right preventing you from falling into the alcohol-induced slumber your body very much wanted to. However, you couldn’t exactly wander out of your room and hope to happen upon wherever Olek was.

You were beginning to regret not taking the king up on his offer of a tour of the castle. But, you reasoned, you could just ask in the morning, so you could definitely sleep right now.

Unfortunately, the gnawing worry about your captain prevented you from giving in to your exhaustion and you kicked off your covers and began to pace around the room.

Doing so in the dark proved to be a bad idea, though, as you almost immediately stub your toe on an indiscernible piece of furniture. After whispering a flame into all the lamps scattered across the room, you realized it was the table you’d noticed earlier, with the peaches.

Frowning, you took one from the basket and took a careful bite, your eyes widening at its sweet goodness. A strange thought began to form in your mind, slowly taking shape while you looked down at the fruit. A memory, really, of a certain demon sharing a snack with you what felt like ages ago.

Before you could dwell too long, however, you heard the distant sound of a door slamming shut. Your head whipped around to face your own door, sitting still as stone as you listened for any more sounds.

Your mind wandered back to the walk back to your room with the maids. There had been no knights posted in the east wing. While the logical side tried to reason that it could very well be a nightly patrol, you were struck by the fact that you were completely and utterly alone without your guards.

A sudden creak, sounding much closer this time, made your heart leap into your throat. The naive part of you wished desperately for it to be Olek, apologetic for leaving you but okay. That it definitely wasn’t some assassin coming to slit your throat in the night. Still, you scanned the room wildly, you saw your old clothes and armor neatly folded on a dresser.

Leaping to action, you pulled your sword out of its hilt and held it in front of you, the sound of footsteps becoming audible and moving down the corridor towards your room before stopping in front of your door. It was only then you realized you never locked the door, or put out the lamps.

Your blood turned to ice when the handle turned, the door swinging open and, standing there—

“Dirrath, you son of a bitch,” you gasped, your arms dropping back to your side, “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing here so late?”

Dirrath didn’t respond, shutting the door behind him. You went to grab your armor, too relieved to be mad at the demon. At least someone from your group was with you, even Dirrath.

“Olek still hasn’t turned up, so I wanted to go-,” you stopped short as you turned to look at Dirrath and realized he not only had his full armor on, but had his axe by his side.

Only then you began to question how exactly the demon found you. He certainly hadn’t been there when you were first shown the room.

The basket in the corner table caught your eye once again, the half-eaten peach forgotten beside it. Imported from the orcs up north. That’s where peaches grew, not Altruria.

You didn’t feel as much satisfaction at Dirrath’s betrayal as you thought you would when you raised a stink over his presence to the High Queen over a month ago. In fact, you felt somewhat disappointed, though that could have something to do with the fact that he was likely here specifically to kill you.

“You never truly worked for the High Queen, did you?” You turned your gaze back to the demon and stared right into his eyes.

“Well, don’t you have the upmost faith in your queen?” Dirrath replied with a wry smile, “but you actually aren’t wrong, princess, I was hired to kill you long before I made your queen think she summoned me.”

“I’m sorry I can’t bring myself to care about the intricacies of your planned assassination attempt,” you snapped, “just get on with what you came here to do, then.”

“Even in your final moments you never fail to surprise me,” Dirrath chuckled, gripping his axe tight and lifting it as he closed the distance between you.

“I hope you don’t regret your decision,” was your grim reply, standing straighter as you waited for the final blow.

Without warning, Dirrath raised his axe and brought it down on your shoulder with all his strength. However, rather than dig deep into your flesh, the axe bounced just as it cut your skin as though it hit stone, a small line of blood falling from the shallow wound.

The axe clattered on the floor and Dirrath fell to his knees with a mangled cry, your emblem on his armor flashing red hot for an instant and the smell of burning flesh filling your nostrils.

“If the High Queen had wanted me dead, she would have told you to take the armor off beforehand,” you stood over the demon as he ripped off the chest plate, a hole burned through his shirt and the skin over his heart raw with the brand of the emblem.

Dirrath sucked in a sharp breath as he touched the still sensitive skin before turning to glare up at you.

“What the hell is this?!” Dirrath roared, staggering to his feet, “I made certain there was no enchantment on this armor!”

“An unfinished curse,” you answered coldly, “The 3rd princess developed the concept decades ago for all the guards’ armors. Spilling my blood sealed it.”

“You cursed me?” Dirrath seethed, looking very much like a cornered animal.

“You aren’t bound to me or anything of the sort,” you sneered, “You simply can’t harm me, even without the armor, now.”

“I made a deal, I can’t just break that,” Dirrath looked honestly distressed, though you found it hard to sympathize when the issue revolved around you dying a bloody death in an unfamiliar castle, likely because of the very owners of said castle.

“I suppose its time to negotiate a new deal, then,” you sniffed, pulling your own armor over your head and beginning to buckle the straps.

“And why the hell would I want to make a deal with you?” Dirrath shook with rage, clutching his chest in pain.

“I’m sure whoever you did work for won’t take too kindly to you failing to kill me once morning arrives,” you scoffed, pointing at the door, “but by all means, feel free to go try and explain why you can’t finish the job.”

Dirrath snarled, standing over you in a clear attempt to intimidate you, though you continued to stand your ground, knowing you now had the upper hand.

“You know your way around the castle, clearly. I need you to take me to Olek and the others,” you continued quickly, “You need to escape just as badly as we do. You could go towards one of the bordering kingdoms, but we’re still closest to Altruria. You can ride with us to the border and go your separate way from there. We’ll never have to see each other again.”

Dirrath laughed, picking up his axe and turning towards the door, “Like you said, princess, I know the castle. It’ll be much easier to escape alone than with an entire foreign party parading down the main road.”

Your smile fell, your mind racing as you ran through your options before the demon left you behind, “If you go, then I’ll run out screaming about your assassination attempt. And you can’t stop me because of the mark. Will you be able to escape the castle with every knight here looking for you?”

That stopped Dirrath in his tracks before another laugh escaped him as he turned to you with a dark expression, “You don’t even know who hired me. You could very well be walking right into your death.”

You grinned, coming to a very important realization as you pulled the last buckle into place, “No, I wouldn’t. If the person was powerful enough, they would have just had any one of the knights kill me. Whoever it was needed an outsider to kill me because they don’t have the loyalty of the knights.”

“You wily bitch,” Dirrath growled, running a hand over his face in exasperation, “Fine! But after I take you to them you’re on your own. I won’t be slowed down by you lot.”

“Fine,” you grinned, holding out a hand for Dirrath to begrudgingly shake, “lead the way, then.”

...

The barracks were a set of four low buildings near the southern end of the castle.

“They’re in there,” Dirrath pointed to one of the buildings with light glowing underneath the door and turned to leave.

“Wait!” You hissed, grabbing the demon’s arm to keep him from slipping away, “you can’t leave until we make sure the deal is done.”

Dirrath rolled his eyes, dramatically throwing the door open. Garreth was the first to stand, sitting on the bed closest to the door. The entire guard was up and sitting around, staring at you in shock. However, you were too busy

“Where’s Olek?” You wasted no time asking, your eyes flitting over every face in the room.

“We haven’t seen him since we arrived, my Princess,” Garreth answered, looking very confused.

“We all thought he was with you, Princess” another guard, Freida, piped up, murmurs of agreement sounding from across the room.

“We have to go find him,” you turned back to Dirrath.

“Like hell we are,” Dirrath scoffed, “I brought you to the barracks, now I’m leaving.”

“What happened, Princess?” Garreth asked, glancing back and forth between you and Dirrath.

“Our deal was that you would help me find Olek and the others, Dirrath,” you shot back at the demon before turning to address your guard, “Go to the stables and ready the horses. We’re leaving this godforsaken castle tonight.”

The room filled with hushed whispers as everyone speculated what could have possibly happened, but Garreth bowed to you and ordered everyone to gather their belongings. As the room began to grow chaotic, you slipped out the door and started back towards the castle.

“The castle is huge, he could be anywhere,” Dirrath huffed as he followed you out of the building, “He could already be dead. You’re just risking both of us getting caught.”

“I do have magic, remember? I’m sure I can find him,” you continue marching forward.

“If you can find him why do I have to go?” Dirrath put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

You rolled your eyes, “I can locate Olek, but I still don’t know the castle layout. Ergo, you need to navigate.”

“Well can you use your magic before we actually get inside the castle?” Dirrath frowned.

You nod, holding out both arms with your palms out towards the castle and close your eyes. You focus your thoughts on Olek, feeling out for any sign of him. In the darkness, you felt his presence, faint but there nonetheless. He was definitely in the castle, and alive.

“He’s in the northwest end of the castle” You tell Dirrath, “but he feels… down? Like he’s underground.”

“The dungeons,” Dirrath answered grimly, “I know how to get there.”

#Demon Boyfriend #reader insert #monster boyfriend #male monster #exophilia

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citrinekay · 4 years

Note

Modern setting. They have been together for a long time now but they haven't come out to the bureau. Holden wants to, but Bill is more reticent. It's not the right time, what if something happens to one of us, what if you don't like me anymore? Holden can't convince him but they love each other so that's more important. There's some company dance or gathering (or something) and Bill decides it's time and has the dj play one of Holden's fav songs and takes Holden's hand and they dance and kiss x

wah this is such a great prompt!!! Also, I’ve never done a modern setting with them before so this was fun! Hope you enjoy :) (and here’s the song I picked for them to dance to.)

“Do you think the tie is too much?” Holden asks, fiddling with the knot as he gazes critically at his reflection in the mirror.

“It’s business casual, Holden.” Bill says, uttering a sigh as he leans back against the headboard of their bed. “Nobody else is going to be wearing a tie.”

Holden groans in frustration and yanks the tie from around his neck.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Bill suppresses the urge to not roll his eyes. He’s been dressed for fifteen minutes while Holden is still agonizing over what to wear to their department chief’s retirement party. They have this same conversation anytime they go anywhere together whether it’s dinner or the movies. Holden is wildly indecisive about unimportant things like which t-shirt to wear while being unimpeachably decided about a number of other things.

“Just wear a polo.” Bill says, motioning to his own navy blue shirt. “It’ll be fine.”

Holden takes off his button up as he goes back to his closet to consult his choices. He drags his fingers across the row of shirts while he contemplates aloud, “I wonder if Wendy is bringing Kay.”

Bill draws in a deep breath as he dusts some non existent lint from his pant leg. There’s a pointed note in Holden’s voice, a question underlying the innocent pondering. A question they’ve been over only about ten times in the past week. Once Holden gets an idea in his head, it’s difficult for him to let go.

“Probably.” Bill says, “Everyone got a plus one.”

“Including us.” Holden mutters, toying with the sleeve of a black knit sweater.

Bill smashes his spent cigarette in the tray on the nightstand. “Are we really going to have this argument right now? While we’re trying to get ready to go? You’re gonna make us late.”

“Yeah, then everyone would notice that we’re arriving together.” Holden says, turning around to cast him an unperturbed glare.

Bill longs for the days when a gruff tone of voice was enough to smother Holden’s simpering. No longer. They’re in a relationship now, and Holden is unbothered by his frustration, well aware that his bark is worse than his bite.

Not too long ago, he’d been a sergeant in the Army. Where had all his authority gone to?

Bill swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands with a sigh. “Come on, let’s go. I’m not fighting with you about this right now.”

Holden’s petulant gaze follows him out of the room before cutting back to his closet.

Ten minutes later he’s dressed in a gray pull-over sweater and black slacks. Bill motions him out the door, checking his watch with a flare of annoyance.

Holden scrolls through his phone while Bill drives them to Quantico. Pushing aside his frustrations, Bill reaches a tentative hand across the space between them to touch his knee. Holden laces his fingers through Bill’s, but he doesn’t look up from his cell.

Bill squeezes his fingers around the wheel. He feels like he should apologize for being short, but a flinching part of him hides fiercely behind prickly armor. He’s never outed himself to anyone. While Holden has been out and proud to most of their co-workers since the day they met, Bill has always kept his sexuality a secret. Even after a failed marriage to a woman, it’s difficult for him to look at Holden’s gay friends, a community of proud, loving individuals, without wondering if he’s some kind of fraud. He’d spent the first half of his life trying to live up to antiquated ideals set forth by his family, by the military, by the Bureau, and the idea of identifying to everyone around them that he’s just as gay as Holden and Wendy scares the hell out of him.

But he can’t tell Holden that. He can’t say aloud that he’s scared more than anything else. The relationship is too new and fragile. What if they made their relationship public, and then realized how incompatible they really are? Bill’s cover would be blown forever, and for what?

Bill glances across the car at Holden whose face is illuminated by the blue LED of his cellphone screen. For him.

Holden looks up from his phone. “Wendy just posted on Instagram she’s bringing Kay.”

Bill clenches his jaw. Social media. Yet another affirmation by fire.

“They’re adorable.” Holden observes, holding out the phone so that Bill can see the photo of Kay kissing Wendy’s cheek while Wendy gazes blissfully into the lens.

“Yeah.” Bill says, averting his gaze back to the road.

“You know,” Holden says, after a moment, “Wendy already knows. And probably so does half of the department.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that nobody is judging us.” Holden says, “It’s 2019, Bill. People are getting more progressive, believe it or not. All it would really be is signing the consent form and-”

“I don’t want my relationship to be a matter of FBI record.” Bill says, “Is that too much to ask, Holden? That I don’t want to sign some paper saying we’re sleeping together?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t see what the big deal is.” Holden says, “It’s just to avoid sexual harassment law suits. It’s just a precaution. It’s not some big declaration of your love for me.”

Silence settles on the car, and Bill disentangles his hand from Holden’s. His fingers are itching for a cigarette, but Holden complains every time he lights up in the car.

“Okay.” Holden mutters, sounding wounded. “Maybe love was too strong of a word.”

“It isn’t, it’s just-” Bill says, the protest cutting off as his throat knots around the magnitude of honesty.

Holden’s eyes are glazed blue in the flash of streetlamps speeding past them. His mouth purses softly as realization settles across his expression. For once, he shuts his mouth and turns his gaze back to his cellphone.

When they reach Quantico, they walk across the crowded parking lot together. Bill checks his watch, noting that they’re five minutes late.

The party is located in the dining hall where the fully stocked bar is already flowing with a variety of wines and cocktails. Bill makes a beeline for the whiskey while Holden immediately gets pulled into a lively conversation with some of their co-workers about the merits of psychology in horror films.

Bill sips his whiskey in the corner while Holden mingles. He’s better at these shindigs than Bill, and it’s probably for the best that they mostly keep their distance tonight considering the conversation they just had.

Bill swallows back his first drink and goes back to the bar for another. His stomach knots as he replays the discussion in his mind, every word marinating in the pit of fear opening up in the back of his mind. Watching Holden’s animated gesticulating from across the dining hall, he suddenly wonders whether or not he’s being ridiculous. Two other men in the discussion with Holden have their arms wrapped around each other. He wants to know what that feels like, holding onto Holden like he’s a prize deserving of being shown off rather than cowering in the corner for fear that someone might judge him.

“Hey, Bill.” Wendy says, jolting him from his thoughts as she approaches.

Kay is on her heels, fingers wrapped loosely around Wendy’s.

“Hey.” Bill says, “How are you?”

“Good.” Wendy says, leaning in to give him a hug. “You look awfully lonesome standing over here by yourself.”

“They’re discussing horror films.” Bill says, motioning at Holden’s group of friends. “I’m not exactly up to par on the subject.”

Wendy chuckles, “Not a horror film junkie? I’m a little surprised.”

“I was in the Army.” Bill says, “I know what real horror looks like. The fake stuff is just … fake.”

Wendy nods, “I see. Still, I’m sure you would have something to contribute.”

Bill narrows his eyes. “You know I’m not a social butterfly, Wendy. Did Holden say something to you?”

Wendy cocks her head to one side curiously. “About what?”

“Never mind.” Bill says, cutting his glance away.

Half an hour later, the catering service brings out dinner and bottles of champagne. The director makes a speech before wishing everyone a good night. Upbeat pop music thuds over the roar of conversation while the dinner plates are cleared away, and all the party attendees slouch over their cups.

Bill leans back in his chair while Holden braces his elbows on the table, leaning into the conversation with other agents at their table. Bill watches the back of his head, the curve of his spine, his mouth smiling wildly as the alcohol is quick to get him tipsy.

Something warm and humming wraps itself around his ribs, smothering whatever withering fear he’d carried into this evening. Maybe it’s the whiskey or the champagne. Maybe it’s the candlelight, and Holden’s hair gleaming like bronze in the low, yellow light. Maybe it’s his joy and radiance, everything about him that had drawn Bill in like a moth to the flame, forcing him to lay down his insecurities at the threshold of their relationship and plunge ahead with nothing but each other to hold onto. Now all that’s standing in the way is Bill’s stubbornness of a piece of goddamn paper. A signature, a declaration - because truly, that’s what it is.

Across the table, one of the other agents, Jared, is vividly recounting him and his boyfriend’s weekend escapade at the gay strip club. Holden doubles over the table in laughter as the story gets more and more wild, perhaps embellished a bit.

“You should come with us next time.” Jared says, “I know you would be a lot of fun.”

“Ah, I don’t know.” Holden says, running anxious fingers through his hair. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like it.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wondering if the rest of the group can see his face getting unbearably hot.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” Jared says.

“Yeah, um, it’s kind of new.” Holden says, his tone dwindling. “It’s not like … official or whatever.”

Jared raises his eyebrows. “But he’s already telling you what to do.”

“What, no.” Holden says, sharply. “I’m just being respectful of boundaries.”

“Okay, sure.” Jared says, shrugging. “But you should really come with one of these days. It’s a helluva lot more fun than this party.”

Bill clears his throat. “I’m going to step outside for a cigarette.”

Holden’s gaze cuts sharply over his shoulder, eyes speaking a number of racing questions even as his mouth purses anxiously.

Bill shoves his chair back, and escapes the stifled atmosphere of the party. Outside, the bassline of the music thuds a distant vibration while the blue sky lapses into melted purples and pinks of sunset.

Sliding a cigarette to the corner of his mouth, Bill lights up and draws in a deep breath. Nicotine floods his strung-out veins while Holden’s voice echoes in his mind. It’s not official. Well, that makes it sound like some kind of quick and dirty hookup. Bill flinches at the thought.

He takes his time smoking his cigarette, thinking and vacillating, shivering and pushing aside his fears.

He has a lot to lose. His pride, for one. His standing as a military veteran. His position as a father trying to co-parent with his ex-wife. His own self-identity. It’s all at stake while Holden, already out to the world, has nothing to lose.

The only thing they both stand to lose is each other. The thought strikes him as if it had dropped out of the clear blue sky.

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, Bill turns and marches back into the dining hall.

The music has quieted down as couples migrate to the open floor at the middle to slow dance in muted, half-drunk intimacy. Piano notes tinkle across the speakers just before the Penguins begin to croon “Earth Angel.”

Bill scans the room for Holden, quickly picking him out of the crowd. He shoulders his way past clusters of agents and department heads, muttering apologies in his haste. As he approaches, Holden glances up from his conversation, and their eyes meet from across the room.

Holden’s wide blue eyes regard him with a faint frustration that quickly melts into hopeful longing when he sees the look on Bill’s face. His mouth slips partially open, tongue running anxiously across his lower lip.

Bill jolts back into motion. Closing the few yards of distance between them, he shoulders his way into the circle of Holden’s friends.

“Excuse me.” He mutters, ignoring Jared’s glare of disbelief as he grabs Holden’s hand.

“Bill-” Holden begins, his tone colored with surprise.

“Can I have this dance?” Bill asks, nodding at the floor where half a dozen other couples are wrapped in warm embraces.

Holden blinks in shock for a moment before a smile creeps at the corner of his mouth, quickly evolving into a excited grin.

“Yes.” He says, fingers wrapping around Bill’s. “Yes, you can.”

Grasping tightly on Holden’s hand, Bill leads them away from the group, all of whom are standing still with their mouths open in growing disbelief. As they reach the dance floor, Bill hears one of them break the silence with a shout of encouragement.

“Are you sure about this?” Holden asks as Bill pulls him around against his chest.

“No.” Bill says, reaching down to grab Holden’s hand, and bring it up into position.

“I don’t know how to dance. Do you?”

“It’s slow dancing.” Bill says, tightening his palm against Holden’s lower back. “Here, just lean against me and sway. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is to it?” Holden echoes, his mouth tipping with mild amusement.

“Hey, you can gloat later.” Bill says, “Just let me have this.”

“Okay.” Holden says, leaning in closer.

He nudges his nose hesitantly against Bill’s, asking for yet another boundary to be crossed.

Ignoring the stares of people around them, Bill leans in to place a chaste kiss against Holden’s questing mouth.

Holden closes his eyes, humming a sigh of relief.

Bill chuckles a small, choked laugh. He buries his face in Holden’s neck, hiding the sting of tears in his eyes. Holden’s body leans into him, so close that he can feel the beats of their hearts connecting. The music swells over the speakers: Earth angel, earth angel. I’m just a fool in love. In this moment, Bill doesn’t care whether he looks like a fool or not - to himself, to their co-workers, hell even their bosses. Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow still afraid of what signing some silly relationship disclosure form means, but for tonight, this dance is declaration enough.

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing #rominatrix

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searchforthescars · 4 years

Note

I actually dare you so hard to write an IT fic bc that shit was made for Siken

Sorry for sleeping on this so long anon - I’ve been in Editing Hell w my own manuscript but I needed to shake the cobwebs off today so dashed this off real quick

AU in which Richie comes out and gets to become the chaotic bisexual we all know he is and also the losers figure it out too I guess? idk I don’t actually know what else this is so just,,,,enjoy, I guess?

CW for internalized bi/homophobia. Poem snippets from You are Jeff and A Primer for the Small Weird Loves.

The boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwaterbecause he is trying to kill you,and you deserve it, you do, and you know this,and you are ready to die in this swimming poolbecause you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this meansyour life is over anyway.You're in eighth grade. You know these things.

You’re used to this panic by now. It doesn’t even faze you...much.

When you feel it next, it’s during the last swim of the year. It’s September, the day before school starts, and the water is cold enough to make Stan and Bill’s fair skin erupt in red splotches, and for your own to goosepimple up in an almost painful way.

Eddie is piggybacking you, legs wrapped around your waist, heels digging into your hips, stomach or wherever else he can grip to keep his balance. Eddie’s wearing those terrycloth red shorts he practically lived in all summer. His mom said he was outgrowing them, so Eddie retired him to the bin in his closet you know are reserved for clothes that are okay to get dirty.

“Richie, hold me up!” Eddie complains, scrabbling for purchase on your bony shoulders. You’ve shot up a good five inches in the past couple months, and no one hates it more than Eddie.

You hooks your arms around Eddie’s, and your heart drops at how close your hands are to Eddie’s thighs, those stupid red shorts riding way too far up for your liking. You can’t keep your eyes away from the contrast between Eddie’s tanned skin and your own sickly-pale color.

You lift your eyes when Bill coughs. You two lock eyes across the quarry. Bill’s clear blue ones are narrowed slightly, his head tilted. You okay? You can’t read minds, but he’s been reading Bill’s face for years.

You nod and let Eddie go with a splash, crowing when the smaller boy shrieks. Eddie springs upright and hauls you back and down by the shoulders, grappling you down to his knees and pushing your shoulders down, down, down until you’re underwater-

And your eyes are open, so he sees it all: the flat planes of your best friend’s stomach, his dexterous fingers and above it all, both in sight and importance, the eager brown of his wide eyes, his messy hair and gleeful smile.

You think, wildly, that you should probably just die now, accidentally, so Bowers and his friends wouldn’t even have a chance. A boy who loves boys in Derry is as good as dead, and you even more so if your friends, your only protection, ever found out. Would they forgive you this? Would they-

Your panic is interrupted when Eddie pulls you up by the arm. “You were just floating down there!” His voice is panicked. You wrap your arm around his shoulder and he sags into you. “I thought- I’m sorry, Rich, I-”

“I’m all good, Eds.” Eddie snorts at the nickname. “Just waiting for you to get enough of attempting to murder me.”

“Shut up, Richie.” His lips curl up. You wish you could touch them. Your thumb burns as if you already have. You duck underwater and swim away, fast, letting out the rest of your inhaled air in a long, low scream.

If It can hear you, you hope It knows there was never any danger of you being brave.

-----

You know how to ride a dirt bike, and you know how to dolong division,and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unlesshe keeps his mouth shut, which is what youdidn't do,because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore.

“What would you do if you liked someone you shouldn’t?”

Your feet skid on the grass, kicking some of it up as you stop your bike and look back to stare at Stan. “What? You found yourself a Gentile girl or something?”

Stan rolls his eyes, shoving messy curls out of his face. Bill noted once that both of your hair, while similar in texture, matched your personalities. Stan’s, while wildly curly, is tightly-coiled and forced into orderliness. Your dark strands are hopeless, a wild mess of waves and curls that no one can ever hope to tame.

“No, Richie.” He’s the same serious kid he was at fifteen than he was as a kid. You’re a little more serious now, too. High school does that to a guy, you suppose, and if you have a prayer of getting into UCLA and getting the hell out of Derry, taking school seriously had to be a priority. You’re not a fan of the seriousness bleeding into the rest of your life, but oh well.

“Then what?”

Stan looks around the Barrens furtively, as if someone’s listening. You roll your eyes. “Come on, Staniel.”

“Not here.” He sets off for the clubhouse, walking his bike when he can’t ride it. You two don’t speak again until you’re underground, the hatch closed. “I mean...what if you like someone everyone would hate you for liking?”

“Stan.” You kick off your shoes and settle into the hammock. “I don’t think your dad is going to care-”

“I think I like boys.”

Stan says it in a rush. His eyes are huge, owlish and afraid. Your heart sinks to the pit of my stomach and sits there.

Even Stanley is braver than you, whispers that voice in your head that sounds like that fucking psycho clown.

“Oh.”

Stan’s shoulders slump. “Is that all you have to say?”

You sit upright in the hammock. Shove your glasses up your nose. “I don’t... It doesn’t matter to me. You’re still my friend.”

Stan’s whole body relaxes, as if his strings have been cut. “Are you sure?”

“Am I- Stan. Come on. It’s going to take more than- Wait!” You lean forward. “Is it Mike? Please say it’s Mike, Eddie’s going to owe me so much money if its-”

“Fine! Yes, Trashmouth, it’s Mike! Happy?”

You whoop, falling back and swinging back and forth. “You’ve made me a rich man, Staniel!”

Stan flips you the bird. You flip him one back. Then, because you’re trying to not be a total asshole, you sit up again. “Thanks. For telling me, I mean.”

Stan gives you a small smile. “Thanks for not hating me.”

Your voice trembles when you speak again and you won’t, won’t, won’t think about why. “I don’t think any of the Losers could ever hate you.”

“Why are we hating someone?” Eddie asks, climbing carefully down the ladder. You obediently slide over when all five-foot-nine of him settles into the hammock beside you.

“We’re not,” Stan says. You smile at him over Eddie’s head.

“Oh. I thought someone was bullying Bill again.” Eddie takes off your glasses.

“HEY!”

“They’re poking my face and I want to nap,” Eddie says imperiously. You hold still as Eddie makes himself comfortable, forehead against your temple and chin on your shoulder. There’s a burning knot coiling low in your stomach. It’s nauseating. It’s thrilling. You never want to feel it again.

But you will. You’ll feel it tonight when you climb in Eddie’s window. You’ll feel it tomorrow when you walk to school with him and he pops open the first button of his shirt to reveal a small strip of collarbone and skin. You’ll feel it the next day and the next and then next. You might even die from it someday.

Could you ever do what Stan did? Throw out such a deep, dark secret into the world and hope it didn’t throw it back at you with enough force to bruise? Could you be that brave?

No. You’re not brave. You never have been.

You time your breathing with Eddie’s. When you inhale, you breathe in coward. When you exhale, you breathe out secrets.

-----

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired.

“Richie?”

Eddie’s not looking at you. His head is leaning against the window of your car and he’s staring out at the dark night ahead of you. It’s summer in Derry, a dry heat and too-quiet nights to keep you company on the drive out to the Hanlon farm, where tents and a movie night await.

“Yeah?”

“I... I need to tell you something.”

Something about his tone strikes you. You pull over and put the car in park. “What’s wrong, Eds?”

He looks over at you, lips parted. His breath comes short. You think about reaching for the inhaler you started keeping in the glove compartment when you started driving. He hasn’t needed it in years, but you hang onto it anyway. Just in case. “I...”

He can’t say whatever it is. You wait. His eyes are impossibly wide, his shoulders heaving with his breaths. There’s color high in his cheeks. You wish, vaguely, like you do every time, that you could kiss him there. Or better, that you could shut off that urge entirely. That would be better.

“Eds.” Your voice is weirdly soft. You don’t even know if Eddie can hear you. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll love you no matter what.”

How many times have you told him you love him? He’s your brother, your best friend, your confidant. Of course you love him. Why wouldn’t you?

Not like that, though, you know it’s not like that, and it makes you dirty and wrong and terrible and-

“I- I love you.”

“I know.” You frown. “I love you too.”

You figure out what he meant a split second too late. His eyebrows knit together, and you understand, and you feel like you’re going to die, or maybe throw up all over this car because “oh. Oh. OH.”

“Forget it.” Eddie sounds miserable. He curls in on himself. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry.” You unbuckle your seatbelt. Lean forward to touch his cheek. It fits so well in your hand. “Eds. Thank you for telling me.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it. “Bill,” he says instead, pointing out your window. “Behind you.”

Bill is leaning against your car, balancing on Silver. “Are you c-coming or not?” he asks through the glass.

Your heart in your throat, you answer. “Yeah. We’re coming.”

Eddie bolts from the car as soon as you park, rounding the back of the farmhouse in search of Mike and Stan. Bill is waiting for you when you get up to the porch.

“He t-told you.” is all Bill says, but you know he knows.

“Yeah.”

“P-please tell me you weren’t Trashmouth about i-it.”

“Bill, please. Have a little faith.”

Bill sees through your bravado. You know he does. He’s been like your brother since you were born. “Did y-you tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

You’re going to throw up. If Bill knows...If he knows, then you don’t know what you’re going to do. Run, probably. Run so far away your secrets can never catch you.

“Rich.” Bill steps down so you’re eye to eye. He’s not taller than you anymore, but he’s still your Bill. Your leader. Your brother. The almost-man you would follow anywhere. “You’re in love with him. Aren’t you?”

You hate everything about this. The tears in your eyes. The tremor in your hands. The fear that chokes you. The urge to run run run.

But you nod, because you’ll be damned if you don’t try to live up to every ounce of bravery you always tried to instill into Eddie.

Bill smiles. Soft. Fond. “I l-love you, R-Richie.”

He pulls you into a hug. You don’t notice you’re crying until you pull away and his jacket is stained with your tears. “Sorry.”

Bill brushes his fingers through your hair. “D-Don’t b-be s-sorry. Be h-honest with E-Eds.”

As If on cue, Eddie rockets around the side of the house, shouting something incoherant. He bolts past you and Bill, then pauses at the doorway.

“You’re crying, Rich.”

You shake your head. Push up your glasses to wipe your face. He’s even pretty like this, blurred into soft browns and tans, pink and red. “I’m okay, Eds. I’ll tell you later.”

Eddie disappears inside. Bill follows him and, despite the catharsis of crying into your best friend’s jacket, you go around to the back of the barn and puke your guts out.

-----

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.

“Do you hate me?”

You stare at Eddie as if he’s lost his mind. It’s so dark you can’t see him without turning on the car’s dim overhead light. “Wh- Why would I hate you, Eds?”

“Because I’m gay.”

“The- What? No! I meant it, I love you no matter what.”

“Oh.” He sounds so small. You hate it. Eddie Kaspbrak should not ever be small.

You pull over again. The stars glitter above you. Eddie looks up at them and smiles a soft peaceful smile you’re used to wishing you could kiss. “Eddie.”

He hears you breathe his name and looks over. “Yeah, Rich?”

“I...” Fuck. “I love you too.”

The roles are reversed. “I know, you just said- Oh.”

Nothing feels real in this moment. Your body is shaking. Your hands are cold and your face is warm. You want to run. Want to take it back. Apologize maybe, because you’ve ruined everything and a boy who loves his best friend is a dead boy, and It was right, this is why you would go missing or die alone, because you’re wrong and disgusting and-

Eddie kisses your cheek.

“Thank God,” Eddie whispers. “I love you so much, Rich, I thought I was the only one who-”

“Beep beep, Kaspbrak,” you say, leaning forward to kiss him properly, dry lips against soft ones, both of you shaking from fear and relief and probably a little bit of want.

When you pull away, he’s smiling so wide his cheeks might burst. You pinch one between your fingers. “Cute, cute, cute!”

“Shut up, Richie.” He folds up the center console and rests his head on your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You sigh. “I was scared.”

Your cheeks light up like a firework when he presses a kiss to your arm through your shirt. “Me too.”

You look down at him, his delicate hand knotted in the front of your shirt, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Something in your heart settles into place, clicking like a lock.

“I love you,” you say again, just because you can. Your heart soars and carries you both home.

#idk how to end fic who cares #it #reddie #(that's their ship right? eh)#Anonymous

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imcrushedbyarainbowoffical · 4 years

Text

Deceitber Day 8: Snake Charmer (Fluffy ship)

This is a long one but I hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: Fluffy Ship

Word Count: 2016

Characters: Deceit, Remus, Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil.

Relationships: Demus/Receit

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Remus being Remus, and kissing.

Despite being half of the creativity, Remus wasn't very good at the whole romance thing. Now when it came to the sexy part, he knew how to get down and dirty in a flash. But romance? He was clueless.

Therein lied the problem, because if you wanted to catch a certain snake. You had to be charming and irresistible.

So how do you charm a snake? You enlist some help of course!

Remus popped up in the light sides commons with the biggest grin on his face while holding his chin in his hand. Yet, the light sides didn't pay him any mind as he stood behind the tv.

"Hey!" he shouted "I like Deceit, like /really/ like Deceit and I want to go on a date with him! But I don't know anything about that romantic shit! So can you all help me?!?!"

Everyone looked at Remus with confusion clouding there faces. As though he had just told the strangest joke any of them had ever heard.

"Um, what?" asked Roman

"You like who now?" asked Virgil

"I like Deceit and want to date Deceit," Remus emphasized

"And you want us to help....you?" said Roman with an eyebrow raise

"Yes!"

"Why are you enlisting the help of us, Remus?" asked Logan

"Because I don't know shit about romance and you all do so...help me!"

"But we aren't-" Logan began

"We'd be happy to help!" squealed Patton, cutting Logan off.

"We would?" asked Roman and Virgil in unison.

"Of course! We can't leave a Side hanging now can we?"

"Uh, ya, I agree. We'll help you in your quest for love Remus!" Roman said triumphantly as he pulled out his sword and aimed it toward the sky.

"We will?" asked Virgil "But how? Remus isn't the most charming person in the world you know."

"Virgil's right, how do you plan on doing this?" asked Logan

"We'll figure that out soon enough. Now let's get you ready for tonight's date, Remus" Roman replied

"Yay! Thank you, dork!" Remus shouted as he jumped up and down on the balls of his feet.

Remus was practically squirming as Roman brushed some blush onto Remus's pale cheeks. Then adding some dark green eyeshadow along the ridge of his eyes that went perfectly with his black and green suit he was wearing. As with the green bowtie they added for an extra touch up.

"Hold still Remus. I can't make you look decent if you're jumping all over the place," said Roman

"Sorry, I'm just really excited," Remus replied

"I know you are but just keep it in your pants until tonight. Alright?"

Remus grinned "I'll try" he mocked

Remus sat at the table with his thumbs twitling. It was 6:55 and in five minutes, Logan would being bringing in Deceit. The dinner would start at exactly 7:00 o'clock meaning Remus only had five minutes to compose himself and prepare for his date with Deceit.

The room had been set up just the way Roman and Patton said it would. With the table dittied up with a fancy white table cloth and a candlestick in the middle. While fairy lights were strung around the room with roses and hearts accompanying them.

It was certainly beautiful, by Roman's standards anyway. But Remus couldn't help but feel nervous. He was half hoping Logan would be a little late. After all, he wanted to be prepared for everything and anything that should transpire throughout the date.

However, when the clock dinged at 7:00, Logan popped up with Deceit, who was wearing his black and yellow tux with a yellow bowtie. His face was clouded with confusion but quickly turned to an amused smile when he saw Remus.

Remus tried to keep down his excitement and popped a breath mint into his mouth. Roman had suggested he keep his breath smelling good. (Though Remus didn't see the point of it). Remus got up from the table as Deceit approached.

"Remus" Deceit acknowledged, with an eyebrow raised.

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and grabbed Deceit's hand. Gently planting a slow kiss on the top of his glove.

"You look stunning tonight my dear," Remus said.

He looked up momentarily to see if the snake side was blushing, but was only met with the same smile.

"Right this way," Remus said, clearing his throat.

He pulled Deceit along and pulled out a chair for him. Deceit carefully sat in the seat and Remus pushed the chair closer to the table. Remus then went to his own seat and sat down, smiling fondly at Deceit.

"I must say, Remus," Deceit said, "For someone as daft as you, I wouldn't think you'd be able to pull something like this off."

"Oh well, you know me. Always coming up with crazy ideas. However, this time I thought we could do something a little more simple. But with style of course."

Remus snapped his fingers and Roman appeared at his side. Dressed in a waiters uniform with a fake brown mustache hanging from his nose. He handed Remus a menu (that was really a folded piece of paper with the word "menu" on it) and Remus pretended to look at it.

"Well have the special tonight," Remus said as he handed the menu back.

"Yes, of course," Roman replied

Roman skipped into the kitchen and came out again carrying a large platter in one hand. He set the platter down on the table and removed the silver lid, revealing two plates of spaghetti.

"Spaghetti al a Pat," said Roman

Deceit raised an eyebrow and eyed Remus curiously.

"I hope you don't mind pasta. Patton helped me make it," said Remus.

"Not at all," Deceit grabbed his fork and wrapped a bit of the spaghetti around it. He took a small bite and smiled. "It's delicious," he said.

Remus smiled back and dug into his dinner, slurping up the noodles so quick the sauce was flying everywhere. He was halfway through when he noticed Roman was behind Deceit chair, frowning and waving his hand against his neck in a frantic motion. Remus glanced at Deceit who was holding his hand over his mouth and seemingly trying not to laugh. Remus cleared his throat and straightened himself, properly eating his food this time and garnering a thumbs up from Roman.

Remus and Deceit kept up a pleasant conversation throughout the meal. Talking about their likes, dislikes, hobbies, etc. However, Remus felt as though they weren't getting anywhere and snapped his fingers. Roman or the "waiter" was summoned to his side and Remus motioned for him to come closer. Roman put his ear up to Remus's mouth.

"I think we need to spice things up," he whispered

"On it," replied Roman

Roman clapped his hands twice and music began to play. Remus adjusted his bowtie and approached Deceit, extending his hand.

"May I, have this dance?" he asked

Deceit smiled cooley and took Remus's hand, standing up. "I would be honored," he said with a slight bow. Remus felt the heat rushing to his face but smiled. He brought Deceit over to the living room and they began.

You're in my arms And all the world is calm The music playing on for only two

He grabbed Deceit's hand and wrapped his other arm around Deceit's upper back. Then two began, their feet moving the rhythm of the music as their bodies danced back and forth, left, right, and back again.

So close together And when I'm with you So close to feeling alive

Their hearts were practically beating as one. Deceit and Remus moving so slowly yet in a sort of trance.

A life goes by Romantic dreams must die So I bid my goodbye And never knew

Remus felt like he was going to lose himself in Deceit's heterochromatic eyes. The way his brown and yellow became soft in the light and yet curious. He could feel himself getting weak in the knees.

So close, was waiting Waiting here with you And now, forever, I know

Remus lifted his arm and spun Deceit around slowly,

All that I wanted To hold you so close

Remus pulled Deceit in closer as the energy in the room picked up.

So close to reaching That famous happy end

Deceit looked into Remus's eyes as the two of them twirled around the room, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Almost believing This one's not pretend

Remus spun Deceit a few times again. Dipping him low and raising him high as there bodies intertwined with each other.

And now you're beside me And look how far we've come So far we are, so close

They stopped for only a short moment to catch their breath but immediately resumed afterward.

Oh how could I face the faceless days If I should lose you now

Remus slipped his hand down Deceit's back and onto his waist. Deceit's breath hitched but he soon relaxed into the touch.

We're so close to reaching That famous happy ending Almost believing This one's not pretend

They were swinging fully now, lost in each other's bodies and eyes.

Let's go on dreaming For we know we are

The music began to fade as they slowed down and stopped. Remus grabbed Deceit's chin and lifted his head slightly. Hot breath landed on each other's faces as Remus leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to Deceits.

So close, so close And still so far

Remus pressed his lips against Deceits, enlisting a sudden gasp from Deceit. Remus entangled his fingers through Deceit's hair and felt his body burning with passion. Though the kiss only lasted a moment before Deceit pushed away. Tumbling back from Remus with the human half of his face blushing wildly.

"Are you alright my dear?" Remus asked

Deceit composed himself and straightened his body, "I-I'm fine. I was just a bit surprised is all," he said.

Remus chuckled and walked over to Deceit. He wrapped an arm around Deceit's waist and leaned in again, but Deceit put a finger to his mouth. "I-I think we should, um, watch a movie. You know? To relax a l-little."

Remus nodded and led Deceit over to the couch. Remus then snapped his fingers and summoned Virgil.

"Nightmare Before Christmas, if you would," he said.

Virgil smirked and popped the DVD into the player then threw the remote at Remus. "Have fun," he said as he sunk out in a flash.

Remus hit play on the remote and glanced over to Deceit, who was still noticeably blushing. He seemed to be trying to keep his attention on the movie and not on Remus.

Remus smirked and slid a little closer to Deceit, pretending to stretch and yawn as he wrapped an arm around Deceit's shoulders. Deceit immediately tensed up but relaxed as Remus gingerly massaged his shoulder. Deceit's eyes slid closed and he leaned into the touch, curling into Remus's chest with a content sigh. The movie continued to play in the background but Remus wasn't even paying attention at this point. He shifted his weight and positioned himself to lay down on the couch. Making sure Deceit laid comfortably on his chest. This wasn't exactly what he was planning on doing that night. But for whatever strange reason, it felt right.

Remus wrapped his arms around Deceit and snuggled him closer. Combing the Deceit's hair with his fingers and kissing his forehead. Deceit sighed happily and climbed up Remus's body a bit, till their faces were in line with each other. Without even opening his eyes, Deceit leaned down and kissed Remus's lips, making the rat side blush. Then Deceit nuzzled his face into the crook of Remus's neck. Remus could tell by Deceit's slow breathing that he was asleep.

They could get down and dirty another night. Cause, for now, Remus was content on just holding Deceit close like this. It wasn't the same as getting the fiery passion of sex but it was close. Close enough for Remus anyway.

#deceitber #fluff #kissing #ts remus #ts deceit #remus sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fuff #ts sanders sides #thomas sanders

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