#still not used to drawing full things in a sketchbook so some things are crooked and sorry for cutting off your elbow Grillby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

orbitariums · 3 years

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟑)

note: hey y’all i know it’s been literally FOREVER since i’ve released a new part. i miss y’all and i’m ready to get right the fuck into this. chapter 13!!!

warnings: smut heavy, mentioning of age difference

word count: 13k

playlist *recently updated, go check it out!*

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

You woke up to the feeling of Steve’s body heat against yours, the flimsy fabric of his sheer white t-shirt bristling against your bare skin. He was laying next to you, a book open in his lap and a pencil in his hand. You weren’t quite paying attention, still settling into the day as the blur in front of your eyes slowly disappeared. Memories of last night flooded your mind fondly— Steve’s soft touch against your thighs as he carried you in from the car into the bed, the thought of someone caring so much to even do that for you, the plush feeling of his pink lips against yours.

You felt your heart swelling just to think of it, so pleased by the events of yesterday and last night especially. You felt like everything was just right at the moment. Before, some part of your brain was afraid that since things were going so well, something would inevitably go wrong later on, but you were past that fear stage. Now, you were just settling into enjoying the good moments and expecting nothing but good to come next.

Since yesterday, especially after the grand afternoon you’d had, and the way Steve treated you carrying you into his apartment, there had been a shift. It was almost imperceptible aside from the way your heart seemed to surge even higher when you were around each other. Yesterday had been such a relief once you both met Bucky and cleared that up. Any unnecessary fear or anxieties that would’ve stemmed from that dilemma were removed.

And now you felt so drawn to Steve, so inclined to trust him impossibly further— again your mind ran back to thoughts about his touch on your thighs as he carried you inside, his soft but strong hands against your smooth skin. And you thought about how you wanted his touch all the time. You’d been physically close multiple times, but only once in the intimate sense, and you were yearning for more of his touch. Though you both wanted to go slow, you found each other irresistible in every sense of the word. And you only had two weeks together—why not get closer?

Steve noticed you shifting, and looked over at you, the side of his lip quirked up into a grin. You stretched out like a cat below him, batting your lashes inadvertently.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Steve teased, and you chuckled.

You were still getting comfortable with each other, but it was easier with each and every day. The more time you spent together, the more you felt used to each other, like waking up next to the other was the norm. The thrill wasn’t gone, but the atmosphere was comfortable at the very least.

“Morning,” you said back.

You snuggled into his shoulder, hesitating a bit in case he wanted personal space, although you were craving an even closer proximity to him. But he squeezed you in closer to him, sensing your hesitation and reassuring you that there was no reason for pause. You noted how much you loved to be near him. The last few days had felt so unreal, almost childish in nature, like a silly little schoolgirl crush that wasn’t anything more, though you both knew you had strong feelings for each other. Yet now, you were sinking into the realization that being near him felt like being near a source of warmth and light that you were so grateful for— you needed it. And he needed the warmth you gave him too.

Your eyes widened as you realized Steve was drawing in his sketchbook.

“You’re drawing?” you grinned excitedly, and he laughed sheepishly and shook his head.

“Yeah. Haven’t done it in a while, it’s just random sketching… it’s a mess, honestly,” he brushed it off, but you frowned.

“I like it. I like your random sketches. You should do it more often,” you tilted your head up and kissed his cheek, another leap of courage that made Steve’s cheeks heat up, along with your words of encouragement.

“Maybe… I got time. But,” he grunted, closing his sketchbook and turning to face you. “I wanna spend time with you. Go head, get dressed. I wanna take you out today.”

How ready Steve was to take you out made you perk up. His tone, his demeanor, just the prospect of going out with him on this lovely day full of sunshine amped you up. The fact that Steve had plans for you was so refreshing. He really did want to show you just how much he cared, and he was putting in the effort, day after day. He was doing everything to make sure you knew how much he wanted to be with you and be around you. Even though it seemed as though the bar was low, that wasn’t something you were used to. Just thinking that he made time to plan things out between you and him made you feel all warm inside.

So you got ready with ease, taking a shower and getting dressed, putting on just a bit of makeup. Steve complimented your dress when you came out from the bathroom, looking you up and down with the purest, kindest admiration in his eyes.

“You like it?” you echoed, flouncing around, unable to fight off the urge to grin. You didn’t struggle with confidence in the physical sense, but Steve made you feel so sure of yourself, like even in these strange circumstances you two were under, he still wanted to show you off and make you feel good about yourself internally.

“You… look gorgeous all the time,” he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, pulling you close under his arm.

“You’re sweet,” you grinned, and laid your head in the crook of his armpit, letting him lead you out of the apartment, letting him lead you to bliss.

When you got in the car, you saw that in the backseat there was a picnic basket and a blanket. You gasped, clasping your hand over your mouth and gaping wide eyed at Steve.

“Are we going on a picnic?” you cooed, grinning wide.

He smiled back,

“You figured it out. Listen, it’s nice out, and I know a great woodsy area where we can be alone and in peace.”

You raised a brow,

“And here I was thinking New York was a concrete jungle.”

“Gotta go up north for the good stuff,” Steve shrugged. “It’s nice and secluded, so we won’t have to worry about laying low. Just wanted to take my girl out officially.”

You leaned your elbow against the window, facing Steve as you pressed your palm to your cheek with a smug smile,

“Your girl, huh?”

Part of you was teasing him, the other part of you just wanted to hear him say it again. Neither of you had had the conversation about labels yet, but it had only been a few days. It was safe to say you weren’t quite worried about labels. You just liked each other’s company. Steve was a man of formality and tradition though, so there would be a point where he probably made things official between the two of you. But for now, he was taking it slow out of respect for you.

Steve glanced over at you, dimples forming at his cheek as he smiled back,

“My girl.”

“I like the sound of that,” you cooed, your eyes glimmering with admiration for him.

“Me too. Glad you like it,” Steve replied, his chest warming up with satisfaction.

He was testing out how calling you his girl sounded, and he loved the thought of it. Even though you were his girl, you were still entirely your own woman. That’s what he loved about you.

Steve’s hand shifted over to your lap, a gentle grip on your thigh, tapping his foot absentmindedly. He thought nothing of it, but it made your head swarm. Even days after meeting him in person his touch was electrifying and every thought of being close to him thrilled you. You’d been intimate only once with him and not again since then, but every kiss since then seemed to last longer and each one was somehow better than the last time. But even though Steve’s hand on your thigh made you feel warm all over (all over), you just grinned to yourself and faced the boundless road ahead.

| | |

“Oh, this place is so beautiful,” you said for probably the third time since you’d arrived.

The woods where Steve had brought you reminded you of California. It was bright and full of summer colors, yellow flowers springing up from the earth and surrounding the verdant grass that crushed underneath the soles of your Converse. The sunlight peeked through the forest canopy through gaps in the leafy honey locust trees and tall redwoods. Everything was lush and green and the air in the woods felt and smelled fresh and much better than the city. Steve knew you all too well, because this was the kind of place you’d go on a weekend with friends back home. You were definitely down for an adventure in the woods.

Steve set the things down on a nice clear patch of grass— he had refused to let you carry anything no matter how much you insisted— and started to set up.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” he grunted, spreading out the blanket and gesturing for you to sit down as he started to unpack the picnic basket. “I was planning this for the other day when it rained and we stayed in and…”

Steve trailed off, his cheeks threatening to go red as he remembered what you did instead of a picnic that day. He couldn’t deny that he thought about it often— that he thought about touching you over and over again because there was nothing better than that feeling you gave each other. But nothing much had happened since then, mainly due to lack of time— you just recently had to deal with Bucky finding out, but now that that was over, you’d have more than enough time. You both felt like the fact that that situation was over called for celebration, and you knew just how you’d celebrate.

Luckily, you had been distracted by a flower poking out by the tree Steve set up the blanket next to, and you wouldn’t poke fun at him or make him any more hot and bothered than he already was just from thinking of that night.

“For you,” you stood in front of him, tucking the flower right at his ear. “Aw, Steve. You look so soft.”

As soft as someone like Steve could look. It was funny— you watched him consistently and he constantly switched between looking like this scary macho man to becoming the softest Golden Retriever puppy when he looked at you. Your chest swelled with pride at this hunk of a man you’d managed to get. Nothing screamed Alpha dog more than Steve Rogers and while manliness wasn’t your top priority, you liked knowing that you were with a man when you were with Steve. So many people would die to get to know him on a personal level, but it was just your luck that you were actually able to.

Steve grinned, fiddling with the stem of the flower behind his ears for a moment before settling down and opening up the picnic basket. He pulled out all the food, along with a bottle of sparkling rose and two wine glasses for the both of you. You sunk down to the blanket, sitting on your knees and marveling at the miniature feast before you. Steve was constantly putting in the effort and making it look so effortless, and you couldn’t help but watch everything he was doing with a smile glued to your lips.

“Not too early for a drink, is it?” Steve asked, tilting his head up to the sky, glistening with sun.

“Never too early,” you grinned mischievously, biting down on your lip as you watched Steve pour two glasses of rose.

He handed you yours and then raised his own, and you reached forward to clink the glass in a toast.

“To us,” Steve said, and you nodded in agreement.

“To us.”

You humphed, wanting to be closer, and practically crawled over to him. Steve’s eyes lowered as he watched you approach him, then settle into his lap with your legs on either side of his thick legs. The faintest grin appeared on his lips as you slung your arms around his neck lazily, holding the glass of wine between your fingers in one hand behind him.

“You really did all this for me, huh?” you asked, letting a finger trail along his chin, prickly from the beard he was growing.

He bit down on his lip, his hand traveling to grasp your wrist softly and keep your hands touching his face, coming down to cup his chin.

“I hope you love it,” he replied, and you giggled.

“Are you kidding? We have to go out here again before I leave,” you decided then and there.

You still had loads of time left with Steve, and luckily there was so much you had yet to do together.

“I promise we will.”

“Steve,” you sighed out his name, leaning in closer to him. “I’m so happy here.”

You kissed his lips, a sweet and full lipped kiss that left both of you wanting more. Your lips tasted like cherry flavored gloss and rose. You giggled to yourself at the way that Steve leaned in, searching for more when you pulled away. His voice was low and soft,

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

You both laughed quietly and Steve pulled you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck making you lurch forward as he led you with his lips.

Your tongue slipped in against the roof of his warm, firm mouth. His grip on your neck got stronger, his hand drifting down to the nape of your neck and squeezing just right, eliciting a lush moan from you. The touch of your body in such close proximity to him combined with the vibrations your moans made in his mouth got him hard. Like a reflex, he shifted his hips upward, pressing the outline of his hard length into the white cotton underwear that was exposed when you fit your legs around him.

“Mmh,” you whimpered when you felt him. You unlatched your saccharine lips from his, which tasted faintly like rose, and threw your head back only slightly, which urged him to lurch forward and press his lips to the exposed skin there, all sunkissed and warm. You grabbed at his hair. “Fuck, Steve.”

“We haven’t even eaten,” you realized aloud, a giggle bubbling up in your throat that became a moan as Steve purposefully nudged his knee against your clothed clit again, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves easily underneath the fabric that hid it.

“No, not yet,” Steve shot back in a suggestive tone, and you raised a brow.

“Steve, are you trying to tell me something?” you teased him, choking on your words halfway through because Steve was practically making you ride his thigh, rocking your body back and forth between his erection and his thighs after you slid down his knee.

Every movement he made, he did it with ease, bringing you closer to climax just by rocking against you. He could feel every contraction your pussy made against the outline of his erection as you squirmed and bucked your hips and rolled into him. Any logical thought process had left your mind— here you were, riding Steve’s thigh in the middle of the morning during what was supposed to be a sweet picnic in the woods. He had you gripped close to him, so even with all your squirming there was no way you were going to be able to move away from him, not with how strong his arms were.

He didn’t seem to notice, but this was just another way he asserted that nonchalant dominance over you that you died for. His hands fit perfectly around the small of your back, keeping you in place. He kept suckling at your chin and occassionally leaving tiny love bites on your neck as you rolled your hips euphorically. The slow, tantalizing pace he kept you at only drove you closer to your impending orgasm, the friction between his body and your own unbearable.

Steve had this unbelievable control over you while you helplessly, wordlessly rode his thigh, brushing up against his dick every now and then. And to think you were doing this in such a beautiful outdoor surrounding, removed far enough from others that no one would walk up on you. The silence was filled with restless panting from you as your orgasm drew closer, and the ambience of wilderness - the birds chirping, the greenery scuffling in the breezes of wind that drew past.

“Gonna come, princess?” Steve whispered hotly into your ear, reaching his fingers down and feeling the wet mark that had formed in your underwear, pressing against your throbbing clit.

“Mm, mhm,” you groaned, arching your back as your hips rolled in tune with his fingers. You came with a shuddered moan, soaking your own panties as your climax coursed through your veins. Your whole body seemed to shake, only stabilizing once Steve dug his fingers into your hips to ground you again.

You stayed there for a moment, still grinding your hips against his and kissing him, holding him tight against you until you pulled away and pushed him back, still straddling him. He was laying on his back and marveling at the sight of you on top of him as you began to kiss him, your lips leading the way down against his toned body where they’d soon reach the place you wanted your mouth the most. How desperately you wanted your lips against those muscles, kissing there and really being able to feel him. You could feel Steve’s heart pounding when you layered kisses on his chest, and he was glad you couldn’t hear the thoughts in his head because they were positively swarming with nerves.

“There’s- oh,” Steve groaned when your lips reached his v-line, unsure of how he was still even able to talk with the way that his voice felt so constricted. “There’s still food-”

“Just relax,” you interrupted, and he accepted without argument, throwing his head back and letting you do the work.

| | |

Today, Steve was out at work until further notice, but he made up for it by ordering breakfast for you, accompanied by a lovely note that he left on the kitchen table that morning.

Had to go in today. Promise me you won’t miss me too much. Be back soon.

- Steve Rogers

The note had made you chuckle—he was such an old man, signing his first and last name like you were colleagues and you didn’t give him the best head of his life just a few days ago. With each passing day you were growing more and more used to each other, more comfortable with expressing intimacy and acting like… well, a couple. It was just, you hadn’t exactly given what you had a title. And while you thought about labels off and on, you weren’t rushing. Steve probably thought about it much more than you did—even though he was adapting to this modern world and the products of modernity (ie: cam girls), he was still traditional in a sense.

He didn’t want to string you along in a weird, titleless relationship. And while he knew that what you had didn’t need a title because of its unconventionality and the fact that you truly liked each other, he knew he’d feel a whole lot more secure when he could call you his girl, and have it be official. So he was brooding on it, because he knew that you didn’t want to rush things either, and in the back of his mind he knew you’d probably be fine going through these two weeks without an “official” title, but he decided the time for a conversation was due soon.

Though right now, he decided he’d take it easy, leave the harder conversations for later. He had something he wanted to show you. Now that you both seemed to have settled down, he wanted to take you out as much as he could. At least, while keeping a low profile.

You had only spent a few hours alone when Steve came home through the front door. You sauntered over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek when you saw him. He kissed you back, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“Hey!” you chimed.

“Hi,” Steve grinned, smiling down at you with that very same look in his eyes— it was funny, neither of you seemed to notice how infatuated you looked when you set your gaze upon each other, but you always noticed it on each other. “How was your day? Didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

You smirked, placing a hand on his chest,

“Maybe a little. Maybe.”

“Well, I missed you,” he grinned, his voice getting softer. He nodded towards the open door behind him. “Get dressed, I wanna take you someplace.”

“Ooh,” chills ran down your spine again at the prospect of Steve taking you out again—and again, you got that feeling of appreciation for the fact that he was planning things for you. The way Steve treated you felt like the difference between someone saying “if you want!” versus actually taking the lead. It was all part of your growth, but you liked feeling wanted. “Where are we going?”

“Well, it’s a place near my childhood home where I used to come just to sit and think and draw sometimes. Great view of the sunset. You down?”

“Always.”

You got dressed in a simple white crop top with a skirt, and followed Steve out the door into his car. The whole ride there, you had your head out the window, letting the evening breeze rush across your face.

“Here we are,” Steve pulled up to a vacant and vast parking lot.

You looked ahead of you, and lo and behold, the sunset was right in front of you. It seemed to be reaching for you, seemed to feel so close even though you knew it was light years away—now you had the sudden urge to ask Steve how far he’d flown on missions. Did he go up into space? Was his job like the real life Star Wars? These questions were all at a loss when you saw the hues of the sunset ahead of you, rich, deep purples and flaming orange-reds.

“This is so beautiful,” you sighed out in awe, Steve glancing between you and the sunset in front of him— to him, he had two amazing views. “You used to just come here as a kid?”

“Yeah. It was the parking lot to a factory building that’s out of business now. But Bucky and I, and a couple of other friends used to sit here… on the nights when it was peaceful. Then, things got too crazy to just sit and watch the sunset,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head as a nostalgic smirk tugged at his lips.

You glanced over at him, blinking slowly,

“I bet it was really nice.”

“It was,” Steve nodded. “One of the times I didn’t feel so alone. I used to just come here and draw.”

You perked up at Steve mentioning his drawing,

“My little artist!”

“Little?” Steve chortled, and you shoved his chest.

“Just pretend. I’m glad you’re getting back into drawing though. Think you’ll show me someday?” you cocked your head to the side, biting down on your lip, unintentionally trapping him with an irresistible puppy dog face.

“Anything, darling,” he grinned.

“Maybe you can paint me like one of your French girls one day,” you suggested, snorting at your own joke.

Steve shook his head,

“I wouldn’t be able to do you justice. It’s been a while since I’ve really drawn.”

You rolled your eyes, propping your elbow up on the dashboard and leaning your chin into your palm, facing him,

“Didn’t you win awards for drawing, Steve?”

Steve scoffed playfully,

“What, did you go on my Wikipedia?”

“Maybe so,” you beamed proudly. “Anyways. Any reason to be naked in front of you is a good reason. You could draw a stick figure of me for all I care.”

“Speaking of naked,” Steve choked out— even though you were adjusting to each other, your boldness still caught Steve off guard sometimes, “you haven’t been doing cam shows since you’ve been here.”

You nodded,

“Yeah, I told them I’m on vacation. But I have a bunch of videos and other cute things to tide them over while I’m gone. God, it’s so weird. They have no idea.”

Steve milled your words over in his mind. It was so strange to think that lots of people on the very site that you both met had had intimate moments with you. And while he knew what you two had was real and raw, and so different, he still wondered how you felt about all the other people that watched you, all the other people that were almost as mesmerized as Steve was.

“Lots of people love you on there,” Steve noted, and you shrugged.

“Yeah, you can say that. I mean, lots of guys wanna fuck me. Some of them really are my friends, you know? People who’ve been watching since I started— it’s hard not to build a bond with them. I mean, it’s kind of part of my job to build a bond with them,” you explained.

Steve nodded, taking in all your words. He knew that this was a job to you, that you had connections with other viewers and that he shouldn’t feel insecure about that. He didn’t feel insecure. But really hearing it was still something he had to swallow hard.

“But, it was different with you, Steve,” you continued without hesitation. “I mean, I talk to so many people there a day. None like you. So don’t be jealous, big guy.”

Steve chuckled softly, though his eyes were trained fondly on his lap,

“I’m not, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” you teased him, poking his cheek. He looked up at you, an amused grin on his face. “‘Cuz I think you’re a little bit jealous!”

“When they fly you out and get to watch the sunset with you, then I can be jealous. But for now… I think I’m good,” he squinted and you grinned, looking from his lips to his eyes.

“Touche,” you noted, and kissed him on the cheek, abandoning the banter for the slow hum of jazz music on Steve’s stereo and the following murmurs of admiration for the sunset you both uttered over the next hour before driving home while it was getting dark.

When you got home, you were racing towards Steve’s cabinets and practically raiding them for liquor. On the car ride home you had begun excitedly babbling about spending a relaxing night in with Steve and making “a date” of it. You were dead set on making a glass of wine and dancing around the kitchen like you would do with your friends back at home.

“Slow down,” Steve laughed, grabbing a bottle of unopened wine from your hands and holding it high above your head so you couldn’t reach.

You whined, standing up on your tippy toes as you tried to reach for the bottle.

“Steve, what the fuck!”

“Where are your manners? You know better,” Steve smirked at you, and you folded your arms and glared up at him despite the rush of warmth his words gave you.

“I wanna drink. You haven’t even opened any of your alcohol, you old man,” you teased him and he rolled his eyes, slightly pushing up against you until your back was pressed against the kitchen counter.

“Very funny,” he replied.

You squinted at him, trying to read his face.

“What’re you doin’?” you asked, your voice laden with suspicion.

Steve was closer to you than he’d been the whole day, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel like it was getting a little bit hot in the kitchen. You wondered if he was doing this intentionally or if he was just so attractive to you that everything he did made you want to jump his bones (in the purest way possible). But that was no longer a question when Steve finally spoke, his voice a few octaves lower than normal, the husky timbre sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll give you what you want, if you give me what I want,” he put it simply, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“And what exactly do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Steve smiled back, shaking his head and putting his hands on your waist, kissing you softly on your lips, then traveling down to your neck.

You let your head roll back for easy access, and let your arms drape down his back.

“When’d you decide to start shit, Steve,” you wondered aloud, but you weren’t complaining, you were just used to initiating things, and you weren’t used to Steve being this bold.

He looked you in the eyes as if asking for permission,

“I just felt like these past few days have been a bit different. We both want each other, right?”

“Of course I want you,” you reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling at how wholesome he was. You even leaned in to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Okay. So let me do my job,” Steve replied, effectively shutting you up.

He lifted you up by the hips and set you on the counter behind you. It felt like everything in the room was all starting to blend together, that was just the effect that Steve’s touch had on you. You wanted him on you everywhere, you were overpowered by his scent and his strong hands on your body. His lips were here, then there, hitting all the right spots on your neck and your collarbone.

“Can I take this off?” Steve asked, gesturing to your white crop top.

You nodded silently, watching Steve as he pulled off your top for you, then you pulled him in for a hot, passionate kiss that told him how much you wanted this right now. When he pulled away he looked down at the basic white bra you were wearing and whispered under his breath,

“Beautiful.”

“Take yours off too,” you almost whined, thinking of the way his back muscles would look flexing when he went down on you.

Steve chuckled quietly,

“Sure, doll.”

“Wait, let me,” you decided, leaning in and taking his shirt off, your fingertips brushing against his sides as you took his shirt off, giving him goosebumps.

Despite his burst in confidence since you got home, he was still in awe of you. And anyways, he really wanted to return the favor from the picnic. He’d been thinking about it in the days following, and now felt like the perfect time to return the favor. Or maybe he was just looking for a reason to go down on you again—not that he needed one.

“Fuck, you look so good,” you swore under your breath just watching Steve make his way down your body, worshipping every inch of your smooth skin.

“I could say the same,” Steve replied, just as turned on as you were, making his way down your stomach.

The hairs on your body stood up at the feeling of his plush, pink lips against your skin, getting closer and closer to that part of you that needed him so badly. You were throbbing already and he hadn’t even touched you there yet. You were wearing a skirt, which he pulled down with ease, and you didn’t fail to catch the satisfied grin on his face at how easily your clothes fell off. Less hassle for the both of you.

“For being so kind,” Steve said suddenly, reaching behind himself and placing the bottle of unopened wine beside you.

You hooted in celebration, clapping your hands once and snatching the bottle from beside you, thanking Steve before twisting the bottle open and throwing back a big swig.

Steve was kissing around your inner thighs now, leaving little love bites here and there that made you yelp out, taking your lips away from the wine bottle.

“Imagine the look on my viewers faces when they see the bruises you’re leaving on me,” you joked, and Steve shrugged.

“Good. They’ll know you’re mine.”

Your heart skipped a beat— Steve was suddenly so confident. You liked it.

“Thought you said you weren’t jealous,” you cooed, leaning back and pressing your palms against the counter, looking down at him.

“Not at all,” Steve replied calmly, and whatever you were going to say then was silenced when Steve pulled down your underwear, a rush of cold air hitting your bare flesh. He moaned at the sight of it, licked his lips like he was looking at his favorite food. “So wet already?”

You nodded with a slight pout, wanting Steve to give you what you needed now. But something told you it wasn’t your turn to speak, and that Steve was in charge tonight.

“Good girl,” Steve praised you, pressing his lips against your clit and leaving a soft, wet kiss there that made your legs twitch. Steve chuckled deviously and even though your brows furrowed at his cockiness, you didn’t say anything— you couldn’t act like you wanted him to stop being cocky.

“Baby,” you breathed out, bringing your hand down to run through his perfect hair, ruffling it a bit.

“Here, let me make you feel good,” was the last thing Steve said before diving in, his tongue drawing an intricate pattern against your folds and on your clit, sending the little bundle of nerves into complete ecstasy.

“Fuck,” you whined, taking another swig of your drink—you had no complaints right now.

Steve knew exactly what to do with it, just as he had the last time, and that was his very first time going down on you. The more Steve got to taste you, the more he wanted. He could see himself doing this for hours, making you cum over and over again until he really got his fix. He was probably just as, if not, more turned on than you were in the moment. His pants were bulged in the center, and he was burning up even without a shirt on.

“Mm, you taste so good,” Steve groaned the one moment he let his lips detach from your clit and your lips. “So wet for me.”

You moaned in response, unable to string any real words together because Steve was doing too good at his job. For a man who claimed he didn’t have much experience, he was the best you’d ever had. It was no surprise that your legs were already starting to shake when he added his fingers into the mix, rubbing soft circles against your clit and letting his tongue slide inside of you, fucking you deep with his tongue. You couldn’t help but grasp onto his hair tightly, your nails clawing into his scalp like crazy.

Steve’s name fell effortlessly from your lips, which were drenched with red wine.

“Fuck, Steve, I’m-I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come!” you exclaimed as if you were shocked by the prospect— your orgasm was coming up fast and hard. “Don’t stop.”

It felt like the breath was getting snatched from your chest as he kept up, moaning against you and roughly rubbing your clit.

He kept your legs spread with his other hand, stopping you from crushing his head with your legs, but you kept on tugging at his hair, which made Steve grunt in pleasure.

You tried and failed to lift the bottle of wine to your lips, your hands were shaking far too much. Steve was pulling this orgasm from you like it was nothing to him, putting all his concentration on making you feel good. You let go, and let yourself come on his face and tongue just like he had been hoping you would. While you were coming, he kept his fingers at your clit and pulled his lips away with a pop, savoring the taste of you as he licked his lips slowly.

“There you go, there you go,” he encouraged you, only making you come even more. You couldn’t speak, only gasp out and let out strangled moans as you rode out your high, your entire body twitching. “It’s okay, baby.”

Steve was cooing to you now, his entire demeanor had shifted— now he was puppy dog Steve again. He had his hand on your thigh to steady you, kissing your knee gently and caressing your body. Soon enough his fingers left your clit and soon enough, you came back to normal. Your heavy breathing and trembling had subsided and you were just sitting there blissed out. Your eyelids were heavy with tiredness, like Steve had worked you out.

“Steveee,” you groaned tiredly, a dazed smile spreading across your lips.

Steve kissed gently up and down your inner thighs, calming your shaky body with every touch. He stood up with a pleased grin, licked his lips, and patted your thigh.

“Okay. Time to get you up,” he declared, and you hurriedly took another swig from the bottle before stretching your arms around Steve’s neck.

He chuckled to himself and picked you up, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“Hey!” you exclaimed when you noticed his boner against you. “You’re hard.”

“And you’re tired,” Steve replied, glancing up into your eyes.

You put on your best puppy dog eyes, trying to grind against his thigh.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t get you off,” you practically whined, and Steve smirked, but shook his head.

“Make it up to me in the morning,” he peeled you off of him and set you into the bed, pulling the covers up and over your body.

“Fine,” you grumbled, turning over on your side. “Only ‘cuz I am tired.”

“I know, I must’ve worn you out,” Steve retorted proudly, and you scoffed.

“Keep dreaming,” you sighed, closing your eyes and almost immediately drifting into sleep.

| | |

The next morning, the first thing you noticed was that your pants were missing, and then you remembered exactly why. Even in the midst of sleep, a smile appeared on your lips. Steve had been so kind and loving to you every day since you got here, but especially so in the past few days. The remnants of last night between your thighs only served as another reminder. Last night was a blur, a glimpse into a more confident Steve who initiated the things that you both yearned for.

You didn’t know how much more obvious you could be, but he still seemed to question the very concept that he was even with you. You were working to reassure him that he deserved you, and he was proving it more day by day. The sexual chemistry between the two of you was off the charts from the beginning, but now it was becoming more natural, more reciprocated.

Even though Steve wasn’t in bed next to you, you pranced around that morning fueled off the memory of last night. You got dressed and soon found yourself leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, ready to return the favor. Steve was elsewhere in the house, so you called his name.

“Yeah?” Steve replied, and you could hear him shuffling about the house, finding his way to your voice.

He paused in the doorway when he saw you, and a devious grin appeared on your face. Steve was unaware of your intentions, but he smiled back because you were. You tiptoed over to him, and put your hands on his shoulders, eyeing him like he was candy.

“I was just thinking… I should return the favor,” you shrugged innocuously, leaning in for a short kiss and pulling away despite his lips begging for more.

“Return the favor?” Steve asked in response.

His face looked clueless, but by the quirk in his voice you could tell he knew exactly what you meant.

“From last night?” you crooned, dropping slowly to your knees in front of him and giving him those eyes— those fuck me eyes that he couldn’t ever resist. If he didn’t have any self control, he’d have lugged you up off the floor and bent you over by now, never mind returning the favor.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, doll,” Steve cocked his head to the side, a devious edge creeping into his tone.

You pouted, furrowing your eyebrows in doubt, palming him through the grey sweats that worked you into a frenzy every time he wore them.

“Really?” you retorted, feeling him get harder the more your hand brushed against him. “This seems to say something different.”

“Jesus,” Steve shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “When’d things get so… good?”

“You tell me, babe. You were the one giving me head completely unprompted on the kitchen counter last night. I mean, have you no shame?” you poked sarcastically at him, because you weren’t complaining at all, you just weren’t used to Steve being so bold.

“‘M only gonna have you for two weeks,” Steve murmured, his jaw ticking involuntarily as he glared down at you through eyes that were growing heavier by the minute. “I wanna make sure I can still remember how you taste when you leave.”

Now, you were usually the one making Steve blush, but now it was your turn, heat rising up your cheeks and making you look away inadvertently.

“Hey,” Steve used his fingers to gently lift your chin up so you were looking at him. “I wanna be able to see your face. You’re beautiful.”

“Steve, you’re sweet. But don’t go being all cute, I’m about to have your dick in my mouth,” you snorted, wasting no time and pulling down his sweats.

Your hands, soft and delicate, ran down his thighs, the barely-there touch making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. You bit down on your lip, eyeing his length through his boxers, and put your lips around the tip, which was already leaking precum through the dark fabric. You looked up at Steve, who was already in shambles, his eyes clenched closed and his head leaning back against the wall. It was clear to you that, even though Steve took you by surprise last night, you were still the one in control, and you loved knowing you could have such an effect on him.

“Feel good?” you asked in a hushed, sweet voice, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

Steve sucked in a breath when your lips left him, and grunted in response. You took that as your sign to get on with it, and pulled his boxers down, his cock meeting the cold air and standing erect in front of your face. His tip, dripping with arousal, was red and swollen, practically begging to be put between your lips. You giggled, a devious glint flashing in your eyes as you inched your head forward, taking his cock in your mouth, just plump glossy lips around the tip and your tongue just barely teasing the shaft. His dick throbbed in your mouth as soon as you got a taste of him on your palate, salty and bittersweet, a taste you knew you would never be able to get enough of since the day you’d finally gotten a try.

Steve opened his eyes and lowered his head slowly to look down at you. You had your cheeks sucked in and your lips puckered around the tip, the perfect little image on your knees in front of the captain.

You managed as best a smile as you could without letting your lips leave his tip, and Steve smiled back, a wolfish grin that was more mischievous than his usual golden retriever beam. You fluttered your lashes up at him almost comically and received a chuckle from him in response. He shook his head slowly, playfully, and you took him further into your mouth, keeping his entire length lodged in the back of your throat, tightly constricted around him like a snake.

The entire room was quiet except for the sound of you gagging around his cock, which pulsated in the back of your throat and even threatened to finish quickly— despite all his endurance, you gave Steve a run for his money. Steve couldn’t even deny it himself— he had to stop himself from coming down your throat because you were just so good, but it was so early on. The feeling of your throat and mouth wrapped tightly around him felt like a warm glove or even a sweet hug.

You tested both your limits by swallowing while he was practically trapped in your throat, the sound it made incredibly obscene. Steve groaned loudly, his deep, gruff moan echoing in your ears like a lovely choir. You let go and started bobbing your head up and down, your lips wrapped around him tight, tongue brushing the underside of his shaft. He shuddered, then moaned, sucking in a deep breath with his eyes trained on you. Your eyes flickered down at what you were doing, focusing on the way he disappeared inside your mouth. You even raised your hands up to stroke what you couldn’t take in your mouth, though you devoted yourself to taking all of him because you were just that good. But Steve lowered his hands and softly pushed yours away, shaking his head. His voice was unusually low even for someone as gruff as him when he said,

“No hands. And look at me when you’re sucking me off.”

You looked up at him almost immediately and nodded quickly, brows furrowing in the middle as your puppy dog eyes turned on inadvertently. You liked how much more confident Steve was becoming day by day. He had no shame in telling you what to do and wasn’t nervous about how you’d react anymore. You had your hands practically pinned behind your back as you bobbed your head at a consistent, steady pace, spit drooling from the corners of your mouth and onto him. He sighed out in contentment as he looked down at you, unafraid to get messy and perfect at your job.

He ran his hands through his hair, raising his eyebrows at you as if he was in disbelief. And a part of him still was— though he got more and more comfortable with you every day, your inner and outer beauty and glow would always remain fresh to him. He would never get used to you, never get bored of you. He had never had much luck with love, and, to put it quite bluntly, the fact that a beautiful girl like yourself was on your knees for him was quite unusual for him.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” the apple in his throat bounced as he swallowed hard, then he clenched his jaw tight, staring down at you in deep concentration.

Duh, you wanted to reply, but you had to remind yourself it was rude to talk with your mouth full. You just gazed up at him with smiling eyes, slurping from the shaft to the tip, then taking his balls into your mouth, switching from sucking on them to licking beneath his shaft. Each time you shifted between one or the other, he moaned deeply, the sound reverberating in your stomach and triggering slick between your legs. You dared to venture your hand between your thighs and touch yourself, gently gliding your fingers from the dripping slit to your throbbing clit. Steve groaned as he watched you get yourself off while you got him off, inching a few steps forward, his dick sliding against your deft tongue.

“You look so good, doll,” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You offered him a small smile, spit mixed with his arousal dripping down your chin. You spit on his cock, then got back to work and put your lips all the way around him again. You got back to bobbing your head up and down and Steve swore he was going to lose his mind at the sight of you playing with yourself and sucking him off so eagerly. You were so good at everything you did, but especially this, and so effortlessly hot. He almost forgot you had just woken up. He chuckled devilishly and smirked down at you.

“You do love doing that, don’t you?” he asked.

You nodded and batted your lashes, hollowing your cheeks out and making sure to pucker your lips hard around his lip.

“Mm hm,” you moaned around him in response.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered under his breath, gazing into your eyes and earning another slight smile from you.

You let your eyes flutter closed as you worked Steve to the end, and Steve’s eyelids fell too, his hands balling into fists and his chest rising and falling heavily as you did your job.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re so goddamn good, you’re gonna make me come, baby,” Steve’s voice grew lower and deeper as you drew his orgasm closer and closer, and you grew more sloppy and untamed with your mouth around him as you slurped away. You could tell he was going to come the way he was pulsing inside your mouth, and the way his groans grew less inhibited the longer you sucked him off. He even started to stutter, his teeth grit as he started to come, shooting ropes of his cum down your warm throat, “Fu-fuck, that’s… yes, yes, YN, I’m coming.”

You kept sucking until he was done, which drove him crazy, and even after, you still kept your lips closed around the base, only departing when you were ready. You loved the taste of him, and wanted to keep him on your lips forever, but sadly you knew that’d be impossible. But like Steve, whenever you got the chance to have him, you’d have him. Even now, when you’d just woken up not twenty minutes ago. When you finally pulled away, Steve had gathered himself. You grinned at him, beaming even, looking so innocent and angelic despite the fact that you were on your knees with Steve’s dripping cock in front of you and spit running down your chin.

“How was it?!”

Steve just laughed, shaking his head and pulling his sweats back up.

“How was it?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t think I have the words for it, doll.”

Steve, polite as always, helped you up off your knees, and pulled you close to him, grabbing you by the hips, kissing you on the lips.

“That’s fair!” you shrugged, giddy from the sweet gesture. “You coming so hard was evidence enough.”

You teased him, bopping his nose with your finger, and he shook his head and rolled his eyes playfully at you.

“What can I say, you’re a natural,” he played along, then suddenly lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder, parading through the house with you as if you were a ragdoll.

“Steve!” you cried, flailing your arms against his back and laughing raucously. “Asshole, put me down!”

“Oh no, we’re gonna make breakfast like this,” Steve denied you, shaking his head with a mischievous smile.

“I just ate,” you snorted, and Steve’s hand landed on your ass in response.

“Don’t be nasty,” he teased you, and you sighed,

“Steve, you prude.”

The rest of that morning was spent making breakfast and listening to music. Or more like, burning all the pancakes, spilling the egg whip and blasting the radio, forcing Steve to listen to “new age” music that he didn’t understand, but he endured it because you loved it. (“It’s Megan Thee Stallion, not Megan The Stallion.”) You danced and laughed and sang with him, but by the time you ran out of flour (because a majority of it ended up on your face, and then Steve’s face as revenge), you really hadn’t succeeded at making anything, and it was lunchtime by then, so you just decided you would go out instead.

Steve didn’t seem to mind going to a more populated place this afternoon. You figured it was because perhaps he had loosened up a bit this morning after your little surprise gift. That still didn’t stop him from wearing a cap and fake glasses, which surprisingly disguised him quite well. Although, in the car ride over to the restaurant Steve was taking you to, you couldn’t help but ask,

“Why the cap and glasses though? Isn’t it a little, I don’t know, rookie for someone like you? I guess I always expected your disguises to be top class, like prosthetics and all that.”

“They can be. But trust me, it’s easier to deceive than it looks. And besides, if I’m out with my girl, I don’t want to look like a whole different person. I wanna look like me.”

There it was again, that sweet phrase of his— “my girl.” You made a soft cooing noise and tilted your head over to him, a pleased smile set on your sweet lips.

“My girl,” you repeated, laying your head on his bicep as he turned down the road where the restaurant was.

He glanced over at you and grinned down at you, loving the feeling of your head against him and the sound of your airy voice.

“Don’t you forget it.”

“Okay, baby,” you cooed again, your heart practically soaring with how content you were, biting down on your lip to restrain a goofy smile.

He had to do the same, a pink blush spreading to his cheeks at the sound of your voice and the pet name.

He parked soon after, opening the door for you as usual. He got a table for the two of you in the back of the restaurant beside of a big window. It was a fancier restaurant, bustling with people, light jazz playing on the speakers.

“You always bring me to the cutest little places,” you grinned softly at him, leaning close to him at the table.

Steve grinned back at how close you were to him, the way you leaned in as if to close space between you, talking to him like you were telling a secret just for you and him. He clasped his hands together and shrugged nonchalantly, like his heart wasn’t swelling from the compliment.

“I got a lot more to show you, doll,” he replied. “So much to do and such little time.”

“I know! It’s been about a week, hasn’t it?” you beamed, your cheeks rounding out when you leaned your head against your palm. You glanced out the window with a distracted smile on your lips. You laughed goofily. “I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track of the days.”

“That sounds about right,” Steve said, wistful eyes gazing at your face, the afternoon sun glinting on your side profile.

You looked so angelic in this moment, and you weren’t even trying to look divine. Steve was silent for a moment, and you looked back at him to see that he was just staring at you with lovey dovey eyes. You laughed, shaking your head.

“What?” you giggled. “Earth to Steve.”

“You just look so pretty,” Steve replied casually.

“Aww, you too, lover boy,” you teased him, reaching across the table to squeeze his cheek playfully.

A waiter approached you and began to serve you. You ordered a mimosa to start, very typical of you, and Steve stuck with water. When the drinks came you slurped eagerly at the mimosa and Steve shook his head playfully, laughing at the sight of you drinking greedily. You looked up from the bottomless depths of your glass and raised a brow.

“What?” you asked cluelessly. “It’s good!”

“I bet. You college girls and your drinking,” Steve poked fun at you.

“I’m a college grad,” you corrected him, pointing a finger at him.

“Close enough,” Steve shrugged.

“Steve, you perv,” you smirked, folding your arms and slouching back in the booth. “You just like me ‘cuz I’m young and hot.”

“That’s part of it,” he admitted.

You fake gasped.

“Steve, you devil!” you leaned in close to his face and narrowed your eyes at him, biting down softly on your lips. Your voice was low and crooning, a fiery look in your hooded eyes. “You have a thing for the age difference, don’t you?”

Even though you were only kidding with him, your close proximity, the subject matter and your tone of voice had Steve shifting in his seat and clasping his hands together in his lap, clenching down on his jaw. His face was getting warm and he wished more than anything that you were alone together in this moment, because then he would—

“I’m… not interrupting anything am I?” the waiter returned with a pen and pad, ready to take your orders.

You slunk back instantly, an all too innocent smile on your face, perking your head up to look over at the waiter,

“Not at all. We’re ready to order!”

Halfway through the lunch, you had gone through a few mimosas and you were starting to get giggly and cutesy. Steve found it adorable. He’d never seen you in such a state, and you were somehow more bubbly and fun than normally.

“You don’t drink much,” you mentioned to Steve with a slight frown, eyes squinted and lids heavy from the drowsiness that the alcohol was setting in.

“Nah,” Steve smiled. “Doesn’t do anything for me. I mean, I’ll drink, but I can’t get drunk.”

“Hmm. Guess being a superhero has its ups and downs,” you chirped happily, burping a little bit afterwards.

Steve laughed, handing you a napkin for the bit of alcohol that was sitting at the corner of your lips.

“Superhero,” he repeated your own words, chuckling and shaking his head as if in doubt.

“What?!” you cried. “You’re a superhero, a-” you shushed yourself, remembering that you were in public, then whispered, “an Avenger.”

“Me? I’m just your average Joe.”

“You say potato, I say potato,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes drunkenly. “You say you can’t get drunk… I would like to test that theory some day.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head again,

“I got a feeling you were a wild child.”

“Oh yeah,” you said sarcastically, nodding. “Yeah, I was a real handful. Going out surfing and hiking every weekend of high school like a ne'er-do-well.”

Steve chortled at your drunken sense of humor. You were sarcastic enough, the mimosas just turned it on ten. He didn’t even mind that you were drunk in front of him right now— it let him feel reassured that you were comfortable enough with him to do this. After all, every day you were getting past all the niceties.

“A true rebel,” Steve replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh huh,” you took a forkful of salad into your mouth, chewing and swallowing. “My parents had a looot on their plate.”

Steve suddenly shifted, remembering what you had said about your parents. There hadn’t been much of an update since the last time you’d talked to Steve about them.

“Right, your parents. How’s that going? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Steve,” you squeezed his cheek. “It’s alright, I guess. We haven’t talked much since the incident, but… we’ve talked. I mean, it sucks that things went down the way they did, but at least I’m not hiding much from them anymore. I mean, besides this. But, them supporting my career is… cute.”

“Cute?” Steve smirked at your choice of words, and you hiccuped, smiling dazedly.

“I mean, nice. I don’t know, I’m drunk,” you giggled. You settled in, sighing and folding your hands on the table, fiddling with your fingers. “I just… I told them I need my space, you know? I don’t even really wanna have some big conversation. I feel like it’s like, whatever, you know? We move on and I move on, try to make the best of what we have of our relationship, for the remainder of time we have left together. That’s all I really have the mental and emotional energy left for, to be honest. I mean, we’re getting old. Them especially. But right now, I don’t wanna think about them. Or talk to them. Right now I wanna be with you.”

You finished your little soliloquy with a grin, gazing at Steve with friendly eyes. Steve nodded, understanding every word. He’d always be there for you when it came to your family matters, or anything you were going through. But he was glad you were taking this route. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, not be so stressed about everything the way you used to be.

He’d only been with you in person for a short amount of time, but he knew your habits, he knew your character— you thought maybe even better than your parents did. And for that, you were eternally grateful. Steve wasn’t just a lover, he was a friend. Someone you felt you could trust and give your all to.

“I understand,” Steve nodded. “I wanna be with you, too.”

He reached out and squeezed your hand, stopping you from your half nervous, half mimosa induced fidgeting. You perked up again, a big grin on your face,

“Yay! We should dance now.”

Steve scoffed,

“Yeah, this is where I get the check. We gotta get you home.”

No matter how much you fought it then, by the time Steve was carrying you from the car to his apartment, you were more than happy to be back home. He sat you down on the bed where you took a long nap, and spent the rest of the day indoors with Steve, crossing more and more modern day movies off his little bucket list. No matter how you spent the day, it was always good. And Steve treated you oh-so-right, no matter whether you were drunk or sober.

| | |

“You feel so fucking good,” Steve practically whimpered into your ear.

Right now, Steve was buried to the hilt inside you from behind you, spoonfucking you and stretching you out almost offensively from this delicious new angle. You’d suggested it to him that morning when you woke up to Steve’s hard on against your ass, rolling your head over sleepily and casually asking him, “wanna take me like this right now?” If anything could wake Steve up so quick, it was that question. He loved the accessibility. He barely had to move to get inside you where he was quickly realizing he belonged. Any way he could be close to you, sexually or otherwise, was ideal for him.

His thrusts were soft but firm and deep, his girthy, long length allowing him to hit every spot that he needed to hit. You were both delirious from morning fog and the euphoric sensations you were sharing together, like on a thick cord of energy that was impenetrable. Steve felt so deep inside you, deeper than the first time, deeper than your mouth could take him. You were rocking back and forth each time he fucked into you at that sweet, steady pace. He wasn’t wasting any time with you, but he was taking his time all the same.

His breath was warm on your neck, coming and going in heavy pants, and your breath was winding out along with the ever-pleased moans Steve drew from you.

“Fu-uck, baby just like that,” you groaned, hardly able to open your eyes until he hit a spot so right inside you that you had to crane your neck because you wanted to look at him.

He opened his eyes a bit wider when he saw you, and locked eyes with you. The very sight of your face had him throbbing inside of you, stretching your walls out impossibly further. He slammed his hips up into you, and you whined at the hard, pleasing sensation, your brows furrowing in the middle.

Steve looked down at where your bodies met, absolutely enamoured by the sight of him disappearing in and out of you, his favorite place. Your chest and stomach began to surge with that familiar, burning feeling, and you couldn’t help the warbled moan that came out of you. The eye contact combined with the feeling of Steve rocking his hips steadily into you was so deliciously overwhelming, you thought you had never been so turned on in your life. No one had given it to you this good.

So early in the morning, Steve was ready for you, and you’d been going for a while, the time filling with endless cycles of him making you cum on his cock over and over, no end in sight. He held back every time he was going to come because he wanted to cherish this time with you. So close and so intimate, the light of dawn tickling the morning sky outside.

“I’m gonna come,” Steve moaned, and you nodded— you had been more than sated in the long period of time you’d been fucking.

“Come inside me,” you prompted him, reaching your hand over to stroke his cheek. “Keep looking at me, baby.”

Steve gazed deep in your eyes, fighting the urge to look down at what he was doing. There was nothing more personal than this right now, looking into your fucked out, glazed over eyes while he rode out his orgasm, coming inside you until he was sure he had nothing left in his entire body. Even after he came, egged on by the sounds of you cooing words of encouragement, telling him how you wanted him to stuff you and fill you up, he kept rocking his hips up into you, slowly and softly, even lovingly.

“Make sure it’s all in there,” he kissed your sweaty neck and you stretched it out, facing away from him and burying your cheek in the pillow, still feeling his thick length inside you, stuffing all his come deep inside you.

Even then, there was so much that when he pulled out, some of it leaked out of you and onto the bed sheets, spread out on your pussy. He used his fingers to slick it all up, then reached over your shoulder and pressed gently to open your mouth, inviting you to suck the cum off his fingers. You did it eagerly, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. And then you both laid there for a while in silence, you still recovering and laying on your side, Steve pulling you into him so you could lay the back of your head on his outstretched arms while he lay on his back.

“That was disgusting, in the best way imaginable,” you breathed, a pleased, hazy smile on your face, turning to face him. “Again?”

“Again?” Steve laughed, shaking his head and looking over at you, surprise laden in his ocean blue eyes. He had no problem going again, it was you he was concerned for. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head and nearly biting down on his lip at just the thought of going rounds. “I’m not gonna go easy on you, you do know that right?”

“You call that taking it easy? I came like…” you drifted off, not able to keep track.

“Five times. I counted,” Steve answered proudly.

You chortled at his prideful demeanor. Steve could be such a different person in the bedroom, and you were absolutely not against it. It was kind of cute how cocky he could get, and it was lovely seeing him blossom like a flower and get more and more physically confident with you.

“Yeah… I think we should just cuddle for now,” you decided, not able to fathom what Steve might do to you if you actually followed through with your delusional suggestion. Steve was silent but his face said it all. You playfully shoved his face. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“What smirk?” he asked faux innocently.

“Shut up,” you giggled, cuddling in closer to him and practically coiling up next to him.

He put his arms around you instinctively. It felt like he was wrapping you in a sheath of protection.

“You’re so warm,” he noted, kissing the top of your head.

“It’s that Cali weather stuck on me,” you decided quietly, letting your eyes close.

“You’re like that Katy Perry song,” Steve noted, and you laughed to yourself. He glanced down, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You’re getting more modern by the day.”

Steve laughed with you, and in the silence that followed, the thoughts he’d pushed away earlier that week started to flood his mind. Labels, officiality. The idea of the conversation gave him plenty of nerves at first, and he’d been brooding on it. But these past few days, you’d grown so close, almost unexpectedly. You were close from the start, but now topics like these felt a bit easier to approach. You got much closer physically and emotionally in the course of a few days. He still didn’t want you to feel rushed, but this felt like quite a comfortable, languid moment to bring this up. The light was poking through the blinds in just the perfect manner, and you looked so delicate and content laying on his arm, nuzzled into his chest like that.

The room was quiet and fuzzy with the aftermath of what you’d done, but the energy couldn’t be purer. It was like soft music was playing over the silence that wasn’t quite silent at all.

“You awake?” Steve asked, fixating down at you.

“Mm hm,” you hummed, your eyes still closed. You were extremely relaxed and cozy in this moment, your mind and body wrapped up in Steve’s snug arms.

“I’ve got something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Steve’s fingers traced light strokes on your collarbones, soothing and gentle.

You eased even further into his touch, but poked one eye open, raising a curious brow,

“Good or bad?”

“Good,” Steve laughed quietly, fingers still gently caressing your supple skin. “Always good.”

“Okay, shoot,” you smiled, the apples of your cheeks turning upwards in that way Steve always noticed— there were so many small things about you that Steve absolutely died for.

“I’ve been thinking about us. And we haven’t spent a lot of time together, and this isn’t something I’m used to. I mean, I’m really kind of still new to all this.”

“Mm hm,” you hummed, the vibrations of your voice easing him.

“And, you know, I’m still a kinda traditional guy. I like to be sure that I’m treating you right. And I feel like part of that includes, you know, what I’d call you. Like… if I would call you labels.”

“Mm hmm,” you hummed again, looking up at him and making eye contact. “Be more specific.”

You were sure you understood what he meant, but you wanted crystal clear communication— even though you trusted Steve, it was just one of those things you had as a result of your past. A condition. And he understood that completely, another reason why you felt you could trust him. Plus, it was kind of nice to see Steve get his words out, this big strong man trying to figure out what to say to you, a simple, special girl. So special on your own, and so special to him, a kind of pleasant surprise to you.

“Say if I were to call you my girlfriend. I… I just find myself thinking about when the time is right to ask. Or if… if I should, at all. I don’t wanna go too fast, or-or pressure you into anything. And, a part of me realizes that we don’t need a title because, well, this isn’t a normal relationship and I get that you young people— for lack of a better word— don’t care much about labels anymore, which I respect. And I know you’re not looking to rush into anything too soon because of how you’ve been treated in the past but…” here, Steve almost got emotional, thinking of how special you were to him, unable to believe that you’d been treated so poorly in the past— all he wanted was to show you just how you made him feel. “But I just want to treat you right, and make you happy because well, you make me happy. And it’s… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. And I’m sure that for you and me both, these feelings are rare. And I can treat you the same regardless of whether or not we put a label on it, but… it’s just been on my mind.”

He continued,

“And I’m not asking anything of you right now. I just wanted to get it out there. I know how important it is to you that we communicate. And I wanted to be able to talk to you about it before I spring anything on you.”

You swallowed down everything he was saying, and even you were getting a bit emotional. He had said so much, and everything he said had resonated so heavily. He truly cared about you, and to even bring this up in this way showed how much he understood that you needed your own personal time and space.

As much as you liked Steve, and wanted to pursue something, anything with him that was good for your emotional and mental health, you still highly valued communication and your time. It was just how you were structured, it was how time and your life experiences had built you. And you understood what he was saying.

Right now, you still weren’t even sure what you wanted. You just knew that you liked this, even though it felt like a commitment. He’d flown you out after all. He really wanted to see you and be with you, and the same went for you. But you didn’t get the vibes that he was forcing you to commit or that he expected anything from you because of your amazingly unique circumstances. It would just make sense to put a label or be official… but all the same, it would make sense to just keep things playing out and enjoy your time together.

That didn’t have to mean you were just fooling around, because you got the feeling that you both took each other quite seriously in the relationship area of life, exclusive or not. And it had been on your mind as well, but you were just living in the moment.

You finally replied, a small smile on your face, placing a consoling hand on Steve’s chest,

“Thank you, Stevie. Really, it means the most to me, you coming to me like this. And everything you’re saying makes complete sense to me.” You gave him a short, sweet kiss on his jawline. “And honestly, I can tell you were still a little nervous to bring this up to me. But there’s no reason for you to be. I want you, there’s no doubt about that. And I really respect your traditional tendencies. And I feel like even though we’ve only known each other in person for so long, we’ve been talking for quite some time. I feel like I know you well.”

“So do I,” Steve grinned, almost letting out a sigh of relief as he listened to your words.

“And I really am open for anything. I think, these days though, I’m just trying to live in the present. I’m gonna be with you, whether I’m officially your girlfriend or not. I’m not obsessed with labels right now, and neither are you. Being asked officially would just be a nice little perk to what we already have. So I’m not in a rush. But I’m also not at all against it. I’d love to call myself your girlfriend one day. It’s our call.”

Steve nodded, grinning stupidly to himself. To hear those words was so reassuring. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he was glad you felt the way you did, though he wouldn’t have been upset if you felt any other way. He just wanted to be with you, the same way you just wanted to be with him. You were comfortable enough with each other not to feel like you needed to rush into anything exclusive, and also comfortable enough to be able to put a label on what you had and move on accordingly.

“Our call. I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Me too,” you agreed— unity over one person wearing the pants in your relationship.

If and when the time did come that Steve should ask you to be his girlfriend, you would be happy for the day—ecstatic, even. But you were comfortable enough in your own skin to just keep on living through the days. And the days with him were quite wonderful.

No rush, just serenity.

AHHHHHHHH!!!

it’s been done

i hope y’all loved that :)))

tbh i think this series is gonna have 20-25 parts, 30 max. ion want it to get too crazy! there is an end in sight, but fear not, there is a lot to go <3

*tags added later*

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 3 years

Text

gotta say I’m particularly pleased with Loki using magic fireworks to show off, because I literally put that in the Steve/Loki fic I wrote for @veliseraptor a few years ago, where they sort of grow up together as childhood friends because of handwavey time-travel shenanigans:

Loki shrugs, looking down. After a moment he says, “We Aesir live such long lives that we mark such events differently as we age, or at least that is the common practice. Young children’s birthdays are celebrated every year; later, perhaps the day is marked in small ways but is truly celebrated once each decade, or once per century for adults and those nearing adulthood. I am approaching that age myself, so it is not as though I expect a regular, lavish celebration or anything of that sort. It is only…”

“Thor gets a bigger party?” Steve guesses.

“A feast of some kind, most years,” Loki says, his voice flat. “It is good for our warriors’ morale, you see. When he turned 750, the festivities lasted nearly a fortnight, and he was gifted with Mjolnir, a weapon of great power. So I thought…well.”

“Yesterday was your 750th too,” Steve says (it still feels unreal to him to measure someone’s lifespan with numbers that high, but when he does the math in his head, he’s pretty sure that’s about equivalent to 15, so basically Steve’s age).

Loki looks down again and nods. “In truth, I am not sure anyone remembered this year was anything out of the ordinary.”

Steve and his mom have never had much, but she’s always managed to make Christmas and his birthday special in some small way, taking extra shifts to afford an art book for him or ingredients for a cake. He’s been a little jealous sometimes of the stuff other kids’ parents can afford, but he’s never, ever felt forgotten. In every other way, Loki’s so much richer that Steve can barely comprehend it, but—

“Well,” he says, “I can’t throw you a feast, but I can take you to Coney Island for ice cream or something.”

“Ice cream,” Loki says.

“Yeah, haven’t you—no, of course you haven’t had ice cream, that’s my fault. I don’t really want to spend money on the rides right now, but just walking around is fun, and I can at least do ice cream.”

“I would like that,” Loki admits.

***

“Here we go, this vendor doesn’t charge extra for toppings.”

Loki balks again when Steve pulls out his wallet. “You needn’t, truly.”

“I know,” Steve says. “But it’s your birthday, and I want to.” He buys them both double-scoop cones with chocolate sauce and hands one to Loki as they head down the boardwalk. “Careful, it’ll melt and start dripping if you don’t eat it fast enough. Uh, but don’t eat it too fast or you’ll get a headache. You just lick it.”

Loki smiles sidelong at him, looking faintly amused. “I think I can manage.” He licks at the ice cream once, delicately, and then his eyes widen a little and he returns to it with a lot more enthusiasm.

“I guess you like it,” Steve says, grinning.

“This is good. I wonder if the cooks at home could make something similar.” He catches a drip running down the side of the cone. “How is it made?”

“No idea. I bet we could look it up somewhere, though. I think it’s milk, ice, and sugar, mostly.”

“Mm.” Loki’s almost reached the cone already—maybe Asgardians just don’t get ice cream headaches—and is finally slowing down. “Well, if you can find me a recipe, I will see what can be done.” He neatly sidesteps a child running between them and smiles at Steve in a way that makes his heartbeat pick up. “Thank you, my friend.”

Steve ducks his head. “Glad you like it.” His own ice cream is starting to melt, and taking care of that keeps him occupied for a few minutes. Then Loki hops up to sit on the boardwalk railing, facing the beach and the water. Steve scrambles up next to him a lot less gracefully, but he manages, and for a little while they just watch the boats and beachgoers, with the Wonder Wheel standing sentinel overhead.

“When is your birthday?” Loki asks.

“July 4, actually. Just a couple months away now. There’s always…” His lips twitch. “My mom used to say the fireworks were just for me, like the city was wishing me a happy birthday too.”

“I am afraid this is another custom with which I am unfamiliar.”

“Right, yeah, of course. July 4 is America’s independence day, since back in—well, actually, that’s not important. Everybody celebrates with fireworks, they’re like colorful little explosions, and we don’t have a great view but my mom started taking me up to the roof to see better.” Steve laughs a little. “I think she felt bad after a while for telling me the fireworks were for me, but I’d already figured it out, and honestly I didn’t mind. I’m nobody special, I know the city’s not going to celebrate me, but it’s still nice feeling like everyone’s celebrating with me.”

“Well,” Loki says, “to your assertion that you are ‘nobody special,’ I would be inclined to point out that you are almost certainly the only living human to count a prince of Asgard as a friend. Which…focuses on me rather more than I intended.”

Steve snorts. “That was pretty much luck anyway, right? You could’ve stumbled across anybody.”

“True enough. But I met you instead, and I am glad of it. If either of us has cause to be grateful for that luck, I think it would be me.” He darts a glance toward Steve and then away, studying the shoreline, and Steve is suddenly struck by how beautiful Loki is. He’s noticed before, but not quite like this, with the breeze ruffling Loki’s hair and the sun highlighting those fine, sharp features Steve is always itching to draw. He doesn’t just want to draw Loki now, though; mostly he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

***

The next time Steve sees him, it’s slightly more than two months later and he’s sitting on the roof sketching the skyline when Loki pops into existence next to him. He’s doing a terrible job of trying to hide a self-satisfied grin, so whatever his latest prank was, it must have gone well. Before he can ask, Loki says, “Your birthday is soon, yes?”

“Last week, actually.”

“Damn. I’d hoped to find you on the day itself, but—well, nothing for it now. I wanted…” He reaches into a satchel, hesitates, and pulls out a small wooden box. “I brought you a gift. A small thing, but—I hope you like it.”

Steve sets his sketchbook aside and takes the box, intrigued. The top opens on a hinge; inside, cradled in a nest of straw, is a black crystal ball about the size of Steve’s two fists, with a polished wooden base. When he pulls it out, flecks of color glint across its surface wherever the sun hits it. It’s pretty, but he can’t think why Loki would give him a fancy paperweight, and he’s not sure how to ask without sounding ungrateful.

“Put your hand on the sphere,” Loki says, his voice still full of suppressed excitement, “and think of your fireworks.”

Steve does. A tiny spark of light shoots up from the base of the globe and bursts under his fingers, then another and another, red and blue and gold and green, spiraling downward and fading out before exploding again, and his confusion turns to wonder as he stares at it. It’s like a snow globe but it’s full of little fireworks instead, fireworks that look just like the real thing in silent, miniature form. He turns it in his hand and the lights follow the motion, sinking back to and shooting out from what’s now the bottom, in spirals and spiders and starbursts.

“Fireworks in a jar,” Steve says. “This is incredible.”

Loki grins. “It is, isn’t it? I didn’t make the globe, of course, I bought that, but the enchantment is mine, built from scratch.”

Steve turns the globe again, marveling at the tiny little world in his hands. “I thought you didn’t know what fireworks were?”

“As it happens, they are a very old invention—as Midgard marks time, anyway—so I was able to observe some myself at a celebration of some kind in China, and I replicated those. So…now you have fireworks that really are just for you.”

The globe is slightly warm against his palms, and Steve closes his hands over it. “This is—way better than anything I gave you.”

Loki looks at him with a crooked smile. “I suppose that is a matter of perspective.”

I mean, I guess I was wrong about fireworks not being a thing on Asgard, but still, it’s fun. :)

#loki #steve rogers #loki show #loki spoilers #frostshield #steve/loki #fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #me shamelessly using new canon to plug an old fic? it's more likely than you think #look I'm practically incapable of finishing anything

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the prompt fill, number 3 for Indruck seems pretty fitting!

Here you go! Prompt 3 was “sweet” , Indrid’s design is based on a barracuda and I went with SFW on this one.

“Duck, can you do me a favor when you lock up?” Leo dumps orange taffy into a glass jar.

“Sure, what d’you need?”

“Got some locks for the garbage cans; put ‘em on after you set the alarm out back. Somethin’s been getting into our trash every damn night for the last week. It makes a god-awful mess and I’m worried we’re gonna get a fine for littering.”

Duck nods, turns his attention back to the flock of tourists approaching the window. The afternoon is swallowed up in a pit of sugar-sticky air and blasts of welcome cold from the freezer. There are worse places for a summer job than Tarkesian’s Sweets--he’s right by the water, can watch the wildlife on his lunch break, and Leo is low-maintenance boss--but after eight hours on his feet getting splashed with soda or burned on the popcorn machine, he’s ready to head home. The trash locks have other ideas.

It takes ten minutes of cursing and fumbling to get the first bin secured. He doesn’t even know how the damn things are getting overturned; they seem too heavy for a raccoon or seagull to knock to the ground.

A tiny splash behind him, probably a fish jumping.

Then a crooked, shiny pole slowly enters his periphery. In dim yellow of the streetlight, he can tell the end of it is curved. It pokes inelegantly at the wall, then the locked can, then the wall once again, and then Duck’s leg.

The hook pulls back, pauses, then pokes him again.

“The fuck?” He grabs it when it goes for another jab, pulls up only for his arms to be wrenched towards the water. Not to be outdone, he tugs harder. His opponent retaliates with enough force that he almost tumbles off the pier. He growls, braces his foot on the railing, and hauls the hook and its owner up onto worn wood with him.

It’s a guy about his age, angular face framed by a mess of silver hair and pierced ears. Figures it’s some sort of artsy punk swimming around poking people in the leg. That explains why he’s shirtless too.

It does not, however, explain why he has a tail.

“Rude.” The guy sits up on his hands, silver and black tail flicking droplets of saltwater everywhere, “I don’t go around stopping you from eating.”

“Look man, I just wanted you to stop jabbin me and knockin the trash over.” Maybe if he doesn’t mention the tail it will go away.

“How else am I supposed to get at those odd, pulpy tubs full of ‘cookies and cream’ or ‘bubblegum’?”

“The fuck--wait, you were tryin’ to get the ice cream containers out of the trash?”

“Yes? I also want more of the caramel apples” he pronounces the last word “applees” causing Duck to giggle in spite of himself.

“Look, I have to piece words together from the signs on your store. And you obviously know what I meant or you would not be laughing, so do you have any in the cans or not?”

“Nope” Duck gets his laughter under control, “sold out of caramel apples today.”

“Drat” the visitor starts scooting across the pier towards the unlocked trashcan, “I’ll see what else I can find.”

“Wait don’t fuckin knock that over, Leo’ll be pissed at me if he comes back to a mess, and I don’t feel like pickin up trash because you want a snack!”

“But I’m starving!” The merman, because at this point there’s no way he can deny that’s what’s been rooting through the garbage, whacks at Duck with his tail.

“I know for a damn fact there’s food down there.” He points at the bay.

“Only if you can catch it, and only if it is not in another mer’s territory. Which much of this area is; I am new here, young, and thus have no claim to any patch of sea.”

“You ain’t got any family?” Something pings in his chest. It’s the part of his heart that made him pick out the runt of litter when his mom let him get a cat on his thirteenth birthday, that means he always splits his lunch with Juno because she’s running track and needs it more than he does, that makes him tear up when he thinks about everything a sapling has to survive to become a tree.

“Merfolk leave home at sixteen.” The merman shrugs.

Duck sighs, grabbing his keys, “If I bring you somethin to eat, will you leave the trash alone?”

“Yes.”

He shuts off the alarm, grabs a cone and fills it with bright blue ice cream. The merman is back in the water when he returns, arms resting on the pier.

“Oooh, my favorite!” He takes the ice cream, biting huge chunks out of it as Duck re-arms the door.

Crunch

“...The container is edible!!”

He sits next to the merman’s arms, “Guess you wouldn’t have had an ice cream cone before, huh.”

“No, but it is lovely. I wish humans threw these away more often.” He polishes off the treat, licks his fingers clean with moans Duck hears in his dreams later, and smiles, “thank you for the meal. Goodnight.”

There’s a final flash of silvery tail, and then Duck’s alone in the breezy night air.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“That’s a sandwich, correct?”

“AHfuck” Duck knocks over his water bottle in surprise. He’s eating behind the candy store like usual and not expecting an aquatic dining companion.

“Apologies. I have seen you eating here before and thought you may like some company.” He sets a sea urchin on the ground and proceeds to bang on it with a rock.

“Found some lunch?”

“I followed some otters; I was mainly trying to draw them, but they led me to a kelp bed no one else was in.”

“...Wait how do you draw underwater?”

“Let me finish cracking this open and I will show you.”

Duck spends the rest of his lunch break on his belly, the merman showing him a sketchbook and enchanted pen that conjures whatever colors the illustrator envisions. The mer is genuinely excited to talk to him. He assumes the nuzzling is due to him smelling like cotton candy; he doesn’t mind, the mer’s skin is cool and he makes cute little noises whenever he touches Duck.

Before the stands, Duck asks, “You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“Duck.”

Indrid’s eyes flick to the nearby estuary.

“Yeah, like the bird. It’s a nickname.”

“I like it.” Indrid smiles, dives, and flaps his tail once in farewell.

------------------------------------------------------

“Cutting school again?” Indrid’s voice bubbles up by his feet.

“Yep.” Duck watches the spring clouds roll by from his favorite spot on the beach. It’s secluded and far from town, meaning no one will give him shit for skipping class and nobody will see Indrid.

He worked at Leo’s until this past summer, only quitting at the start of his senior year of high school when Indrid pointed out that much of Kepler was surrounded by water and that, if Duck wanted to see him, he did not have to keep working at the candy store in order to do so.

“Not that I mind the free food.” Indrid winks.

“Just gonna bring you bulk ice cream from Safeway; no way am I missin out on that chirpin you do when you eat it.”

Duck slides the grocery bag towards the surf, “not like KCC is gonna rescind my offer. Ain’t a fuckin Ivy League or some shit.”

“And you will be happy there?”

“Yeah. They got a decent work-study program with the park, so I can still get a job as a ranger if I want to.”

“Oh. Good.”

Indrid sounds sad, and Duck sits up on his elbows. His friend’s torso is fully on land, his tail fidgeting in the foam.

“What’s up?

“I...Barclay told me his human is going to a school further inland, and I know there are many places you could got to learn. You...you did not choose to stay in Kepler because you feel the need to look after me, did you?”

“Course not.” Duck is sitting up now, aching to stroke Indrid’s hair, “I mean, I’m glad we’re still gonna be able to see each other, and I really hopin I can get a room near the beach so it’s easy to come talk. But this is the right choice for me; if I really want to, I can transfer to a different school in a few years, and I can learn a lot here without takin on a shit-ton of debt. Besides, ain’t like I think you’re helpless; I love bringin you stuff and rubbin your fin when it’s sore, but that’s because you’re my friend. Don’t think you’re helpless. I never have.”

“Not even when I was stealing trash?”

“Thought you were a fuckin nuisance, not helpless.” He playfully nudges his shoulder with his toes.

Indrid turns his head and nips his calf, “How’s that for a nuisance?”

“Not much, felt kinda nice. Uh, I mean, uh, fuck, so, where’d that worry about my stayin come from?”

The mer crawls and wiggles until they’re shoulder to shoulder, “I think my future sight is finally developing; my fathers arrived around the time he turned eighteen, so it makes sense mine would arrive at a similar point. The trouble is, I am having a hard time telling the futures from my own imaginings and worries.”

“That fuckin sucks.”

“I’ll manage. All seers struggle at the beginning. I just wish I was quicker at learning whether certain timelines are really more likely or if they are just ones that I want to be likely.”

“Like what?”

Indrid glances at him, opens his mouth, then shuts it and faces the sea.

Duck smirks, “‘Drid, there somethin you wanna ask me?”

“No. Yes. Maybe? I, I just don’t want to pressure youOOOHhhh that’s not fair” he flops on his back with a groan as Duck scritches his upper tail, “you know I’ll do anything when you touch me like this.”

“Damn right I do. And what I want is for you to tell me the truth.”

Indrid whines, covers his face with his hands.

“Do it or I’ll stop.”

“Rude” Indrid lowers his hands enough that his red eyes peer over the top, “is that any way to treat a mer who wants to kiss you?”

Duck gives his answer by pouncing on his friend, pinning narrow shoulders into the sand as he devours his mouth in kisses.

“You like that treatment better?”

“Goodness, yes.” Indrid pulls him back down, slipping his tongue between his lips and nibbling his neck when he finally stops to breathe. Then his hand flails sideways, grabbing the plastic bag and chucking it further up the beach.

“The, the tide is coming in and I, ah, foresee us working up quite the appetite.” He tugs Duck’s collar down with his teeth, nuzzling and licking across his skin with little hums of pleasure, “so I want to save those for afterwards. Who knows” he grins, “maybe we’ll need energy for round two as well.”

Duck cups his cheek, inhales the scent of the sea and the sight of his future, “I like the way you think, sweet thing.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills

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lluvguts · 3 years

Text

just pretend for now // reddie

(mostly posting my ao3 fics here for now // i’ll take requests too!)

pairing: eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier

genre/warnings: none! fluff

word count: 2,037

summary: a loser’s club wedding...but kids!

“Let’s just skip it.”

“Our own wedding, Rich?”

“We already got married, Eds,” Richie murmured as he turned over in the sheets to reach for Eddie in the mid morning light. He was well aware of the plans that had to be set into motion, as well as the many things they must actually be present for―like getting married, for one―but all Richie felt like doing was spending the rest of their Friday afternoon in the hotel bed. Well, Eddie had brought separate bed sheets for the hotel bed, but still the same idea in spirit.

Eddie pulled Richie closer and rested a hand in his tousled hair. Though he did not fully bring him to his chest―the wound had healed months ago, but Eddie was still extremely careful. It made Richie wonder what their wedding night was going to look like if Eddie wouldn’t touch him. Not like it made much of a difference considering all the other times…

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but we can’t just not go to our rehearsal dinner,” He stated, craning over Richie to stare at the clock displayed on the hotel nightstand with a groan.

Richie tilted his head up to stare at Eddie―or the foggy shape he assumed was his soon-to-be husband, having forgotten to put on his glasses.

“You don’t remember when we got married as kids?”

“I don’t think that a children’s cereal box ring counts towards marriage.”

“Oh, please. It wasn’t a cereal box prize…It was a Ring Pop,” Richie said with dignity.

“You’re gonna have to tell me the story of our so-called wedding, since there’s clearly some pieces I’m missing.”

Richie flourished a hand, in an old British clip. “With pleasure, Mr. Tozier.”

“Tozier-Kaspbrak,” Eddie corrected him.

“Nuance. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was one hot ass summer when we were all sitting in Bill’s backyard, eating candy…”

The Denbrough’s yard was stifling that summer in Maine, and all of the Losers crowded under the aged umbrella from their outdoor patio furniture to stay cool in the grass. Mike and Stanley were huddled close, admiring a bluejay that had perched on the fence, while Ben passed around a plastic bag of assorted candies from Costello’s Market―one that his mother had purchased for him the morning of―and tried not to sneak a glance at Beverley’s smile, or the way the sun made her hair glow like an open fire.

“It’s so fuckin’ hot,” Richie whined, popping a cherry Ring Pop into his mouth.

Ben shifted uncomfortably on his place in the dead grass. “You shouldn’t say that word Richie!”

“Oh hush, Haystack. I can say whatever I’d like,” He replied coolly and fell onto his back to stare at the cloudless sky.

“There’s nothing to do out here,” Eddie said in a soft voice, still awed by Richie’s crude remark. The brown-haired boy had some color on his cheeks, but not from the heat. He was startled, and maybe a little captivated by how confident Richie was, and Eddie wondered if some of that confidence could work on him the next time Belch Huggins shoved him off the playground equipment at school.

Bill fished inside the shopping bag for a candy bar that wasn’t already melted. “W-We have some board games i-i-inside.”

“Let’s go to the library,” Mike murmured. “There’s a new issue of Superman out and if we don’t act now all the other kids'll take them all.”

Stanley leaned in toward Mike’s neck and used the binoculars he was wearing, pointing at the bird. “No, let’s go back to my house for my sketchbook so I can draw her. Look, she’s so pretty.”

The three argued about what to do when Richie pondered over his candy, then said thoughtfully, “We could get married.”

Eddie looked away, knowing full well that Richie’s finger poking into his side meant that he was talking to him.

“W-What?” Bill spoke above Stanley and Mike’s chatter. Ben was too busy sorting the candy to pay much attention.

Richie shrugged, wiping sweaty hair out of his face. “We’ve got the rings, right Eds?”

Eddie crossed his arms, scowling at the Ring Pop on his own finger and spoke to the ground.

“Don’t call me Eds. You know it’s not my name.”

“It’s just pretend…unless you’re too chicken to do it,” Richie challenged.

Beverly glanced between the both of them, her eyes finally landing on Richie as a wicked grin lit her face.

“I’ll be the lucky lady, if my daddy doesn’t find out,” She giggled.

Richie sat up, wiping the grass from his shirt. “I was talking about Eddie Spaghetti, Bev. But you can be my best man.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Stan said.

“Fine! I’ll marry Beverly, then Eds. Okay?”

Stan pulled his binoculars down. “You’re still not getting the point.”

“Oh, whatever. We’ve got a wedding to do,” Richie stood alongside Bev and held out his hand.

Eddie blinked at him for a speechless moment but took his hand warily.

“This is a bad idea,” He mumbled with a red face as the three sautnered over to the Denbrough’s rusting trellis, its vines once lively now hung dead across the scorching metal.

“Bill! Will you come marry us?” Beverly shouted across the lawn, even though the boys were only a few feet away.

“S-Sure Bevvie,” The boy immediately stood and went to her.

“Got yours, Bev?” Richie held up his candy ring, as well as the one on Eddie’s hand, still clasped in his own.

“Let go of my hand!” Eddie flung his arm back, nursing the Ring Pop in hopes that neither could see his expression. It was the only comfort he had, that sweet taste of blue dye, he’d left his inhaler at home.

Beverly showed them her ring, fresh from the package and shining a neon green on her pale finger.

Bill clapped his hands together, nervously looking to Bev. “Alright, uh, R-Richie go stand by Eh-Eh-Eddie, I’ll marry Bev and you f-first.”

Richie grabbed Beverly’s hands and grinned sheepishly at the young girl. The other three watched from the shade of the umbrella, a mix of amusement and anxiety filtering across their faces. Luckily Bill’s parents were not home to see the ceremony, but the Losers knew neither mother nor father would take much interest in their antics.

“Do y-you Beverly Marsh tu-tu-take Richie T-Tozier to be your, uh, husband?”

“It’s ‘lawfully wedded husband,’ Bill!” Mike commented, while Stan slapped his shoulder.

Richie winked at Bev, which made her laugh harder. “I do.”

Bill nodded in agreement. “Okay, D-Do you, Richie Tozier t-take her to be your,” He turned to Mike, remembering the phrase, “Lawfully wedded wife?”

“Sure do, Big Bill. Now, how bout a good one, right here, Bevvie?” Richie clicked his tongue and tapped a cheek with his finger.

Bev blushed and leaned forward to peck his cheek. Eddie closed his eyes, trying not to picture Richie’s lips on his face. She pulled back, smiling and waving around her ringed finger in the hot air. Richie did the same.

“Eddie, your t-t-turn.”

Beverly gave Richie’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before dashing off to hide under the umbrella. Eddie ran his tongue across the dry roof of his mouth and stepped forward, accepting the boy’s sweaty hands.

He hardly understood Bill’s words, not because of the stutter but more so because of the way Richie cleared his throat, and the firm grip he had on his hands, as if it were an actual ceremony and not something thrown together in a small town backyard.

Richie was busy staring at Eddie and stammered out an ‘I do’ just in time for him to whisper the same.

Bill bristled at the next line, his eyes flickering to Richie, who nodded his approval and said, “You m-may, uh, kiss each other?”

“On the cheek!” Eddie squealed, but Richie used their locked hands to propel him forward, smacking their lips together with an unceremonious crash of saliva. Richie’s mouth moved quickly across his, with neither having the slightest idea what they were doing or what it meant, but were drawn further into the kiss by the sugary taste left from their Ring Pops.

Richie’s glasses drove up against Eddie’s face in the seconds that their kiss lasted, and when he moved away Eddie let a small smile break through his resolve at Richie’s crooked glasses and wet curls of messy black hair. Eddie wouldn’t realize it until much later in the day but that hot summer afternoon, and Richie’s cherry flavored kiss was a brisk line in the sand on his feelings, and the memory of it would linger in his mind every time the dark-haired boy passed by. He kissed me, he kissed me, his mind would scream with gleeful abandon. Now go tell him you like him.

“See? Just pretend,” Richie released Eddie’s hands and stuck the Ring Pop into his mouth, biting it clean off the plastic ring. He stuck his tongue out, it was still red from the artificial flavoring and Eddie could almost feel that cherry candy in his own mouth. He shuddered at the thought and hurried away from the other boy, terrified and amazed at him.

The patio door slid on its hinges, and a small mousy haired boy stepped out―George, Bill’s little brother.

“What's going on? Who got candy without me?” The boy commanded, looking hurt by the other’s failure to include him.

Bill rushed to his side, holding out what was left of his chocolate. “S-Sorry Georgie. We were just gonna ask i-i-if you wanted some.”

“Uh huh.” Georgie snatched the candy bar, then sought out the plastic bag that promised more treats.

“So what’re you gonna do now Richie, with your new husband and wife?” Mike asked. Stan was bent over his travel-sized birth encyclopedia, so lost in thought the boy was getting smudges of milk chocolate on the pages.

Once Richie went back to the umbrella he slung an arm around Beverly and Eddie’s shoulders and looked up at the sun with a weary grin.

“Take a nap.”

“See Eds? Married,” Richie sighed happily as he concluded his story.

“Rich, there’s no way that you kissed me in front of everyone at ten years old.”

“Would you like me to call Bev for clarification?” Richie said, lovingly resting his head against Eddie’s waist, smiling where the other man could not see―because for a minute Eddie did not flinch away.

Eddie eased Richie’s head away from him and slid off the bed, throwing open his luggage.

“I’d like for you to take back the past twenty minutes, because now we’re going to be late. Ask her tonight at our actual wedding rehearsal.”

Richie rolled over Eddie’s side of the bed and found his phone and glasses while trying to tug off the shirt he’d slept in. “Yeah, Bev? Remember that one time at Bill’s house when we got married?”

“You’re calling her, Rich?” Eddie disappeared into the bathroom so he didn’t have to witness the reason they were going to inevitably be late for dinner.

Richie stopped and listened, slipping into a pair of dress pants. He rolled his eyes and threw the phone onto the rumpled sheets with a childish whine.

“What did she say?” Eddie asked smugly, poking his head out of the door.

“She said, and I quote, ‘If you don’t show up in the next five minutes I am telling your parents you decided to elope at age forty.’”

Eddie grinned and straightened his shirt collar, exiting the bathroom to kiss Richie’s smooth cheek. At least he’d done one thing: shave.

He took Richie’s arm and they headed out the hotel door. “Let’s go then, Mr. Tozier.”

“That’s Tozier-Kaspbrak, according to you,” Richie grumbled.

“I said I was fine with Tozier.”

“Are you ‘fine’ with it? Just fine? ‘Fine’ is like, ‘I’m fine with my shitty low-end job.’ That sort of fine?”

“How about, ‘I’m more than fine with it for the rest of my life?’”

Richie chuckled. “Sounds good to me, Mr. Tozier. The wedding planner’s gonna give us hell, though.”

“We’ve been through worse.”

#richie tozier #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #reddie #it 2017 #it fanfiction #it fandom #reddie fanfic #reddie fic #gay richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #fanfic #gay fanfic #kid fic

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writingformymentalhealth · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2

Josephine Fawley or as her brother liked to call her the tomboy Princess had a striking romance with Hogwarts very own Pureblood rebel Sirius Black.

Sadly her parents deemed his Brother the so called Slytherin Prince as a better fit and arranged a marriage with the younger Black.

Possible Tw: Arranged marriage, possible smut, swear words, lots of fluff, angst,

Part 1

Part 3

Wattpad book link

Masterlist

The Fawley twins stood on Platform 9 3/4, already having left their parents behind at the station as Isabella Brown came in their direction.

Quentin always described Isabella Brown as the perfect sidekick, and Rory always found that unfair. Quentin’s reasoning was that Isa was pretty average, her dirty blonde hair and dull eyes not making her ugly but certainly not pretty either. Her grades were tolerable and her intelligence questionable.

But despite her brother’s hatred towards the girl, Rory liked to think of her as her best friend. After all, they have been sharing a dorm since the age of eleven...

“Isa!”

“Josie.”

The girls hugged, completely ignoring Quentin, whose eyes were transfixed on a certain blonde arguing with Lucius.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” He mumbled, making his way to the couple, but the girls didn’t hear him already gushing to each other about their Christmas Holidays.

At the time Quentin reached Narcissa Lucius was long gone and silent tears were falling down her porcelain skin.

“C’mere,” Quentin mumbled pulling the girl into a hug.

“You shouldn’t be here he doesn’t like me hanging with you.”

“You aren’t his property, Cissy.”

“I don’t want him to hurt you.” Narcissa’s deep blue eyes met his for the first time today.

“I’m not scared of Lucius.” Quentin said his eyes subconsciously drifting to her lips, the lips he used to kiss so often...

He shook himself out of the trance taking Narcissa’s trunk leading her into the train to find an empty compartment.

Silence engulfed the Teens while Quentin secured both their trunks and Narcissa fidled with her fingers nervously.

“You shouldn’t let him treat you like that.” Quentin said seating himself next to the beautiful girl.

“I will marry him.”

“Cissy-“

“I will do what is right for my family Quentin.”

“But what about what is right for you?”

“What are you saying I should do?” Narcissa asked something desperate in her voice as if she hoped he could show her a way out.

Quentin wanted to say a lot of things, run away with me, he wanted to say, I’ll protect you, but he didn’t have the chance to open his mouth as Lucius entered the compartment a cruel glint present in his eyes. “Fawley, thanks for taking care of my fiancée for me.”

“Pleasure.” the Ravenclaw answered dryly forcing himself to look into Lucius eyes who looked taken aback at the bold response.

“Cissy, Babe, why don’t you tell your dear ex boyfriend what you told me?” Lucius asked a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

Narcissa’s eyes widened in disbelief as she looked at him but her boyfriend just quirked his brows, his stare cold and dominant giving her no other choice than to oblique.

Quentin’s eyes darted back and forth between the couple trying to find out what was going on. Narcissa wasn’t able to meet his eyes as she swallowed visibly a few times.

“I don’t want my clingy ex boyfriend hanging around me all the time.” she said looking at her hands her voice barely above a whisper.

Quentin froze, his jaw clenched and he felt like he was about to cry but the devilish look in Lucius’ eyes stopped him.

“Well,” he stood up, clearing his throat “I should get going then.”

“Oh no,” Lucius faked kindness, “You don’t have to leave.”

Quentin pressed his lips together trying hard to swallow the lump in his throat, “no worries.”

“No really,” Lucius said the sardonic smile reappearing, “everybody knows you don’t have friends because nobody likes you, so we understand that you are so clingy.”

That hit home.

Narcissa seemed to try to disappear in her seat not daring to look up from her hands.

“I’ll go find my sister.”

“Oh yes family, they have to at least try to like you don’t they?” Lucius taunted but Quentin was already out the door.

On the other end of the train to Hogwarts, Isabella filled Joey in on the latest gossip.

“Regulus hexed a student - a muggle born he probably won’t come back to school,” she just said dramatically, wringing her hands.

“I guess they call him the Slytherin Prince for a reason.” Rory answered dryly, not sure what to think about all these rumors about a boy who used to hide behind his older Brother at any given moment.

“He is pure evil! Have you seen his cold stares? As if he is about to kill someone.”

Joey thought about the girls’ argument for a moment, Isa was right, Regulus always had a cold, unreadable demeanor which intimidated even the older years greatly.

“Maybe.”

Isabella just scoffed. She hated it when her friend didn’t take part in her gossiping.

Thankfully, Quentin entered the compartment in this moment, his lips pressed together in a thin white line.

“What’s wrong Quen? I thought you were sitting with Narcissa.”

“Narcissa and Lucius made up.” He said snappily, getting his sketchbook out of his pocket and started drawing, clenching the charcoal so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Quen-“

“Don’t” Quentin interrupted his sister.

“You could help your sister and sleep with Nicolette.” Isabella said, brushing her fingers through her dirty blonde hair, seemingly unaware of the silent conversation the twins held with their eyes.

“Why would that help me?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Nicolette wants to steal your boyfriend. Which isn’t an immense surprise after she slept with half the school, and don’t you remember the incident with Carter?”

Of course Joey knew the story about how Carter cheated on his long-time girlfriend Dorcas with the seductive blonde, everybody did - Dorcas made sure of it. Some rumors about Nicolette giving Carter a love potion went around, but Joey didn’t know what exactly went down. She only knew that every girl avoided Nicolette like the plaque and she herself surely didn’t want that girl near her boyfriend.

“Where do you get all your information from?” Quentin asked, still sketching furiously.

“Well, Fawley, A is for information and-“

“According to what alphabet?” Her brother scoffed, making Isa pout and look out of the window. But Joey couldn’t bring up the energy to comfort the girl, her thoughts being occupied by Nicolette, and the possibility of her stealing her boyfriend.

“You did what?”

“We made Slughorn’s toilet explode.” Sirius explained, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“And how the hell did you make his toilet explode?” His girlfriend asked, trying to sound stern, but the smirk on her face gave her away.

“I can’t reveal all my tricks, love.”

“Aren’t you scared of getting detention?”

“What’s life without a little risk?” Sirius asked, throwing an arm around the petite girl.

Joey always thought of Sirius as a true Gryffindor, he was chivalrous, bold and daring, while she wasn’t a true - anything, known as the longest hat stall in the history of Hogwarts the hat jumping back and forth between all four houses for an hour before reluctantly placing her in Gryffindor. She never felt like she truly belonged there, but Sirius always knew how to make her feel like a true lion, involving her in pranks and bringing out the rebel in her and Joey didn’t want to think about next year when he would be in the Uni sector of Hogwarts - so close yet so far, in a completely different world of alcohol and parties - even more than they already had.

“What’s going on in your pretty little mind?”

“The Future.”

“You don’t look too happy about the future then.” He said, gently pulling her into his lab.

“I don’t want you to go to Uni.” She blurted, and he frowned.

“I’ll still be in the same building, Love.”

“We all know that the Uni students and the school students are strictly separated.”

He laughed his barking laugh, and Joey knew she would listen to his laugh for hours if she could.

“They are separated so some innocent first years won’t see some drunk teens shagging in the hallways, but it’s not forbidden to visit the other side of the castle.”

Joey had to suppress a smile at his crude wording.

“Still, you will live a completely different life with parties and alcohol and-” she paused, hiding her reddened cheeks in the crook of his neck, “girls.”

Sirius had the biggest, cockiest smirk plastered on his face as he turned towards Joey. “You jealous love?”

She tried to hide her face with her hands, but he easily pulled them away from her, exposing her flushed face.

“It’s just with alcohol and pretty Uni girls, I just don’t want you to fall out of love with me.” She mumbled, and Sirius’ amused expression suddenly disappeared, changing into a serious one.

“Josephine Fawley, I’m always going to love you. I’m going to love you in your weakest moments to your strongest ones. Don’t you understand? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” His grey eyes stared straight into her green ones. “I want you, and only you, every piece of you. And I’m always going to want you, I’m always going to be here loving you with everything.” He said, and a smile tugged at Joey’s lips.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m always Sirius” he smirked making her roll her eyes at the overused pun, “but yes I am completely serious.”

“I Love you Siri.”

“I love you more Josie.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Yes, it is”

“No, it isn’t”

“Yes, it is”

“No, it isn’t”

“Yes, it-” his sentence cut short by Joey pressing her lips onto his passionately while positioning herself so that she was straddling him, peppering soft kisses along his jawline.

The quidditch game Gryffindor against Slytherin was coming up and you could practically feel the excitement buzzing in the great hall.

“I don’t get all this excitement over a stupid game.” Isabella complained playing with the food on her plate.

“We don’t have to go,” Joey said with her mouth full of cornflakes, “Sirius doesn’t play this year.

“Why? Did he want to have more time for other types of exercises?” Isa asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Actually, I wanted to have more time for my beautiful girlfriend,” Sirius said from behind, seating himself next to Joey.

“Hey Siri.” Isabella said, ignoring Sirius’ scrunched-up face as a person other than his girlfriend used this nickname.

“Hey Isa. Are you guys coming to the match today?”

“No, Isa just-“

“Of course we are coming.” Isabella interrupted, earning a weird look from Joey.

“I thought you weren’t playing this year?”

“I am not playing but McGonagall asked me to be the commentator.” He smirked devilishly.

“She’s going to regret this.” Joey mumbled while Isabella congratulated the boy.

The stands at the Quidditch game were annoyingly full and Isa and Joey stood together tightly, watching the Teams warm up.

“On the one side we have the captain of the Slytherin Team, the always unhappy looking Lucius Malfoy while on the other side we have the much more attractive James Potter as the team captain of the Gryffindors.” Sirius’s voice echoed through the pitch making the Gryffindors burst out in laughter.

The game went on James being the first one to possess the quaffle, “James being slightly distracted by a certain redhead still doesn’t stop him from being a better chaser than Lucius.”

“Mr Black.” McGonagall shouted, and Joey could swear that she could see Sirius smirk right in front of her.

“Mathew McKinnon blocking a bludger while maintaining his ever perfect hair, and I know we all ask ourselves how does he do this? Well, I happen to know tha-...yes Professor I do think this is important informa-...look the people deserve to know...no it’s not irrelevant to the game...see now you made me miss a goal.”

Joey saw a defeated-looking Professor McGonagall walk away from the commentator stand making a dismissive hand gesture.

“James stop laughing. I know I am hilarious but you have a game to win.” Sirius announced and Joey looked up, seeing an almost falling of the broom James potter crying tears of laughter.

“Mulciber here seems to be slightly distracted by the fact his girlfriend cheated on him with Lucius” Joey saw out of the corner of her eye that Narcissa left the stands Quentin following her immediately.

Joey sighed standing up from the stands making her way through the crowds to her boyfriend, as she knew his comments would only get more heated from now on. His body rushing with adrenaline from all the cheers and laughter filling the pitch. That was the thing between the two of them. They balanced each other out; he was fire, and she was water; she cooled him down when his fire burned the people around him and he melted her when her water turned to ice, too stubborn and scared to move in any direction.

Just as she wanted to climb up the commentator stand she saw the Slytherin team erupt into cheers as Regulus Black had catched the snitch.

Sirius hopped down the commentator stand, seeming absolutely content with himself.

“Enjoyed the show, Love?” He asked, grinning proudly.

“You never know when to stop do you?”

“It’s one of my charms.”

“It’s most definitely not. You made Narcissa cry.”

“Everything I said was the truth.” He said furrowing his brows.

“You still embarrassed her in front of the whole school.”

She could see something stir in his stormy eyes but just as he opened his mouth a figure in a short skirt and unmistakably red lipstick approached.

“Nice Job, Black.” Nicolette said smiling coquettish and Joey wanted nothing more than to rip out her just-the-right-kind-of-messy-but-not-too-messy hair.

“Thank you, Nici.” He smiled looking at Joey triumphantly.

Nici.

Why did he call her by a nickname?

“I wondered if you could help me in Transfiguration this weekend? McGonagall says you’re one of the best.” The girl asked, smiling brightly showing off her pearly white teeth.

“We already have plans this weekend.” Joey said through gritted teeth and although Sirius quirked an eyebrow at her he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, Okay Sorry.” Nicolette said clearly, forcing a smile as she turned around, walking away without another word.

“Having a jealous streak are we?” Sirius asked, his grin only widening as he saw his usual calm girlfriend all worked up.

“Shut up.”

Part 3

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somilkyshaky · 4 years

Note

au - joana is deaf, cris learns sign language

I’m soooo bad at au and never really posted any of the one I’ve written, but let’s try something.

Wednesday, 15h48

A sign language club… seriously, what am I doing here? Cris deeply sighs, hesitating to open the door in front of her when she feels a hand on her shoulder which almost makes her gasp.

Well… here’s the reason why I’m here. Joana.

She arrived a week ago and I was assigned to show her the school and kind of “help her to fit in” as the headmaster would say.

“What’s up?” signs the raven-haired girl with joyous eyes. Oh fuck, how do you say “I’m fine” already? Oh yeah. Cris opens her hand wide and taps her thumb against her chest as she articulates the words with a shy smile. Joana grins brightly before grabbing the blonde’s hand and adjusting its position.

Cris can’t help but stare at their joined hands as she feels goosebumps crossing her forearm. Joana notices her gaze and slowly releases the blonde’s hand with her usual smirk. “You’re coming?” she asks, nodding towards the door as if nothing had happened.

They enter an already full classroom, laid out so small groups can sit together around tables and practice. Wow, I wasn’t expecting to see so much people here…

“Oh, hey Joana! I see you’re already bringing some new friends with you, that’s great.” softly says and signs an almost thirty-year-old woman with a bright grin, carefully looking at Cris.

The raven-haired girl signs something in answer, but of course I can’t understand her… Damn, she’s so much faster than when she tries to explain me something.

“Oh, I see, how nice of you Cris!” affirms the woman, before quickly realizing that the blonde is completely lost. “She just explained me that you two have a project to write in literature and you accepted to learn some words in sign language so it would be easier for both of you.”

“Oh ye…” starts Cris, but she’s interrupted by Joana pulling her by her arm and already leading them to the last remaining table for two persons, of course.

Immediately after sitting down, Joana starts to write something in her sketchbook/notebook/mess we use to communicate in class. Let’s say it’s useful when you’re supposed to be silent but still want to talk with your classmate. Well… we weren’t that quiet yesterday when we both burst out laughing in the middle of Pedro’s class, but whatever.

The raven-haired girl takes Cris out of her daydream with a small tap on her forehead before showing her what she just wrote.

J: It’s Aurelia, she’s nice but a little… clingy? sometimes; I preferred fleeing than having to talk with her for an hour

C: I see. You know other people here?

J: Well I know you, that’s enough right?

Cris rolls her eyes before shaking her head in disbelief as Joana gives the blonde her best smirk and playful eyes.

J: Alright, Madame isn’t here to joke around... I mostly know everyone here. They all came to talk to me because it’s rare to meet a deaf person in a public school I guess?

“Girls, I know it’s easier to write things down, but we’re supposed to learn sign language here.” admits Aurelia with raised eyebrows, especially looking at Joana when she signs, who replies with the most forced smile on earth.

When she turns away from the two young women, the raven-haired girl sighs deeply and quickly signs something as she leans against the back of her chair. The blonde starts giggling; I don’t need an explanation to understand this word.

“Well, we don’t need paper, you can read on my lips, right?” affirms Cris, sitting up and looking at Joana as she tries her best to slowly articulate.

Joana raises her eyebrows and starts signing in answer; when she’s done, she crosses her arms in front of her chest, nodding towards the blonde and waiting for her to reply with a smirk.

“Are you challenging me right now?” asks Cris, falsely offended and resting her weight on her elbows as she leans forward on the table. Joana only shrugs in answer, trying to hold a smile. “Okay, repeat what you just said- well, signed.”

The raven-haired girl gladly signs again, a little more slowly this time. Me… read?... you… you… me… Well, I’ve got everything- without the verbs and nouns. Great. Oh wait.

“Maybe… I can read on your lips, but you can’t understand me?” hesitantly says the blonde, frowning. Joana’s smirk slowly disappeared as she stares at her, kind of pensive. “Listen- sorry, look, I think we both know I’m bad at…”

Joana interrupts her with a small gesture and starts writing something on her notebook.

J: That was it.

“Really?” asks Cris with a proud smile forming on her lips.

J: Well, not exactly, but you have the main idea, that’s the most important!

The two young women exchange a small smile when their gaze meet. I haven’t realized but- we’re so close from each other… Joana slowly moves backward before sitting up.

“You’re smart.” she mouths with a tender smile as she signs.

“Thank you.” replies Cris, avoiding the raven-haired girl’s gaze with a crooked smile.

Joana carefully taps the blonde’s wrist with her fingertips to draw her attention. She brings her hand to her chin and slowly moves it forward as she mouths “Thank you.”

Cris smiles softly and repeats the same movement under Joana’s proud gaze.

After all, it’s not that bad to be here… especially if it’s with her.

#crisana #crisana fic #croana #I had fun writing this one #thanks nonny for the idea

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roguelioness · 3 years

Text

Stop and Stare

I’m back with more Gwenji nonsense, don’t at me. Benjamin Fox belongs to @ma-sulevin!

Picking up where the two left off here.

Benjamin Fox/Gwen Porter 1658 words, complete

Gwen gets her arms up over her head and stretches, sighing at the way the kinks work out of her shoulders. The scene outside her window is grey and dreary; there’s even a little bit of drizzle to really rub in what a miserable day it is. Everything about it says bundle up, stay at home, and she knows there’s a bottle of good whiskey in her cupboards - hell, she could get a real nice fire going, sprawl out on the carpet in front of it, ignore the email from the publisher and the rest of the world and instead just spend the afternoon daydreaming about-

About what, indeed, she chastises herself, her cheeks faintly pink as she recalls wide shoulders and wider grins.

She checks the little orange clock that’s up on the mantel; it’s a quarter to three. A bit too early for the whiskey, then, but perfect for a cup of tea. She gnaws on her lip as she stares outside… she could remain at home, but on the other hand, she might catch Benji if she makes her way to Haley’s bakery…

Besides, she could use some fresh air. It can’t be healthy to be cooped up all day at home, can it? It’ll be good for her mind! She might find some inspiration out on the- grey skies… and grey cobblestones… and… brown eyes…

Gwen mentally chastises herself for what is all-too-quickly becoming a rather overwhelming obsession with Wayhaven’s detective. Keep this up, and he’ll be serving you a restraining order, she rues, even as she slings her purse over her shoulders and tightens the scarf around her neck. She’s not going to see him, she’s doing this for herself, because she’s been at home for two days now and she really needs a change, she’s tired of staring at the sage green walls of her apartment and she hasn’t found the energy to pick up her brush because everything’s just been so grey and blah outside.

She nearly reconsiders her idea once she’s out of the door and the full force of the chill wind smacks her straight in the face. The cold quickly numbs her ears, gnawing at her even through the woolen beanie, and she lets out a gasp as cold air manages to sneak beneath her coat. Gwen speedwalks her way to her little sedan - she is not built for the cold, not one inch - and gets behind the wheel of her old-but-in-pretty-good-shape sedan, shivering while she waits for warm air to flow out of the vents. “Holy fuck it’s cold,” she mutters, rubbing her gloved hands together before she places them on the steering wheel.

The drive to the bakery is uneventful, most of Wayhaven’s citizens having done the sensible thing and stayed at home - a fact that isn’t lost to her as she pulls up by the storefront. Gwen can see, through the large glass window, that the bakery’s empty. Damn. Her phone says it’s three-fifteen, and she just happens to know - thanks to Rita, her next-door neighbor, and another volunteer at the PD - that Benji has a late patrol tonight�� I’m not here for him, she reminds herself, and takes a breath to steel herself against the wind outside before she gets out, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering as she rushes into the cozy warmth of the store.

“Gwen!” Haley’s smiling, clearly surprised to see her. “A little cold for you to be out, isn’t it?”

“I needed a change,” she smiles, trying to squirm at the glint in the baker’s eye. “Thought it might help with the artist’s block.”

“Well, you just make yourself comfortable, and stay for as long as you’d like,” Haley says kindly. “What can I get you?”

“A tea, and-” she points at a cinnamon roll. “One of those, please.”

She seats herself as close to a window as she can without being right up against it and pulls out a sketchbook. Letting her fingers flow across the page, she draws The Square in quick, sure strokes, detailing the cobblestone streets and the quaint iron lamp posts, the unused park benches and the leafless trees. She’s so caught up with what she’s doing she starts when the door opens, feeling her cheeks heat up when she recognizes the tall man who steps into the store.

He hasn’t seen her yet, and she takes the time to study him. Strong jaw set taut, brows knitted together, lips thinned out in thought. He looks tired, his usually neatly style hair mussed by the wind outside, and the stubble on his face is heading towards what she has no doubt will be a quite fetching beard.

Her pencil files across the page, the soft rasp of lead against paper so familiar to her she barely pays attention to it. His jacket’s not so much worn out as it is lived in, and she knows that it will smell of him, all fresh soap and deodorant. It’s not as thick as her parka, she knows, but he makes it look so much warmer.

He turns, and he sees her, and he instantly breaks out into that wide, open smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling up. It gets her heart speeding, and she silently curses the way he can so effortlessly make her feel this way, like she’s the sun after a never-ending night. “Hey, Gwen!” his voice is so cheerful she can’t help but grin in response. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. What are you up to?”

‘Oh, just-” she raises her pencil, wags it at him. “Trying to catch a muse.”

He chuckles, but his attention’s grabbed by Haley before he can respond. Grabbing his coffee from the counter, he makes his way towards her, and before she can react he’s pulling out the chair next to her and makes himself comfortable.

Dammit, why do his eyes have to be so warm?

“So,” his lips quirk up into that smile, the one that makes her chest flutter and her stomach do flips, “do you think I could have a look?”

“Huh?”

“Let me see what you’ve been working on?” his smile turns cajoling. She’s too weak to resist that look - not that she even tries, because what kind of fight can she put up against chocolate brown eyes that look so friendly and open and so, so attractive? His attention on her, so entire and so steady, tears down even the most resilient of her defenses.

Gwen glances down at her page, her heart spiking in alarm as she realizes that the part her hand is currently blocking out holds a very familiar face, and if she doesn’t do something quick he’s going to see-

“Um-” she hurriedly goes to turn the page, to hide what she’s been doing, but her haste makes her clumsy and she knocks over what’s remaining of her tea onto the book, the brown liquid spreading across and seeping into the paper. “Oh, shit,” she jumps up, trying not to get any on herself.

“Here, let me help-” Benji grabs a handful of napkins and rushes over to her.

She gratefully takes them from him. “Thanks.” She tries to mop up as much of the spilled liquid as she can, but the damage is done - the pages are too warped for her to use again. “Oh, well,” she sighs, staring down at the now-brown paper with its smudged artwork. “So much for that idea,” she gives him a crooked half-smile, half-grimace.

“I’m so sorry,” he looks genuinely contrite as he eyes the ruined sketchbook. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have startled you-”

“No, no, I’m just clumsy,” she lets out a little laugh, the sound awkward. “Don’t worry about it, honestly. I have loads more at home.”

His brows are still furrowed with regret. “Let me make it up to you - how about I get you another cup of tea?”

“You don’t have to, Benji, it wasn’t your fault-”

“Please, let me.”

He’s so earnest, she can’t turn him down. “Okay.”

Benji has to return to the station, so she lets him walk her to the car. “I’m sorry about your book,” he says again. He has to bend his shoulders quite a bit to meet her gaze through the window.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she sighs. “Please stop blaming yourself, you’re making me feel bad.”

His lips quirk up at the corners. The way he’s looking at her, his gaze scanning her face, the way his breath fogs the space between them, scented with the coffee he’s been drinking - Gwen finds herself mesmerized, finds her eyes dropping to his lips, finds herself wanting to yank him closer so she can taste his mouth.

“I’ll get you another,” he promises.

“Benji. Stop.”

He gives her one last, bright flash of a smile. “Drive safe.”

“I will.”

Neither of them seem inclined to end the conversation - she certainly isn’t - but a particularly freezing gust of wind has her shivering, which makes him take a step away, which leaves her feeling bereft.

“I’ll see you around, neighbor,” he grins, raising his hand in a quick salute.

“Bye,” she knows her cheeks are red, and that she’s smiling like a loon, but she doesn’t really care as she pulls away from the curb. When she turns to look again, he’s still standing there, a hand in his pocket, a grin on his lips. There’s a pull within her, a yearning to turn around and go back to him, but she ignores it and instead waves one last time before she leaves.

The next morning, there’s a plain brown paper-wrapped parcel on her doorstep. Curious, she opens it to find a brand new sketchbook and an accompanying note: Maybe this time I’ll get to see your work?

She shakes her head and laughs. And falls just a little bit deeper for warm brown eyes and broad shoulders.

#oc: gwen porter #foc: benjamin fox #gwen x benji #we're calling it gwenji okay #roguelioness writes

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beanie-on-a-string · 4 years

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to those people and places I can never go to

So I wanted to get back into the swing of writing and all, and ended up writing this thing about Kairi and Lea immediately after the events of Kingdom Hearts 3. I absolutely loved their friendship and wished they had shown more of it in the game. So, here’s this thing no one asked for...

The past few days on Destiny Islands had been perfect. Sounds of laughter and chatter resounded from the beach. After everyone gathered for the celebration, they figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay on the islands for a little bit. It was just the right amount of hot so that it wouldn’t be stifling, and the ocean was just the right temperature to wade in at any time of the day.

Kairi let the waves lap at her feet as she watched Lea – sorry, Axel - all but drag Isa into the water, the latter halfheartedly protesting as the former flicked water droplets at Isa and teased him, telling him not to ‘die in my arms a second time’. Roxas and Xion were not too far off, giggling as they floated on their backs, each one trying to outlast the other. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around, already knowing who it was.

“Riku,” she said, smiling softly at one of her oldest friends.

He smiled a similar smile in return, hiking up his pants a little as he stepped beside her, letting the ocean run over his feet like she was. The sunset framed his head like a halo, coloring his silver hair shades of pink and orange.

“Beautiful day, huh?” she said, moving a little closer to Riku and nudging his arm. Barely swaying at the contact, he hummed in agreement. There was a sentence left hanging in the air between them that was left unsaid.

it would be better if Sora were here

Kairi leaned a little against the taller boy, who wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, watching Mickey and Minnie exchanging soft smiles as they talked on the dock, watching Namine drawing them from inconspicuous glances over her sketchbook, watching Axel complaining about his now drenched hair as Isa held back laughter, watching Xion wade over to Roxas to show him a pretty seashell she had found.

A loud quack of irritation startled them both. They turned around to see Donald being held back by Goofy as he squawked about how Ventus ruined his sand statue yet again. The accused stood by the crime scene, flying disc in hand, cheeks pink as Aqua and Terra stifled giggles behind him.

“Oh,” Riku said after a moment, posture a little straighter as if he remembered something. “Ventus and I were playing around with Axel’s discs earlier. Want to join? It’s fun.”

“That’s sweet, Riku, but perhaps tomorrow.” She gave a small apologetic smile.

“Alright, then,” he said, then added, “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

A little more silence, filled with more questions and answers left unsaid. “Well, I’m going to go back to them, alright?” He raised his eyebrows in an ‘is this okay?’ motion. Kairi nodded, lips quirking up in another smile. He squeezed her shoulder lightly, and then he was gone.

Most everyone had headed back by now, having either gone back to their respective houses or whoever’s house they were staying at for the time being. Kairi stayed behind, the wet sand between her toes feeling more like hardening cement. She didn’t move from her spot by the waves for a while, letting the ocean pull the sand from under her feet over and over. She stepped away when the sun was barely peeking out over the ocean, the sky slowly deepening from its dark orange to something of a dark lavender. She didn’t know where her feet took her from there, exactly, but she wound up at the large, crooked paopu tree she spent so much of her time looking out at their small world on. She stared at it for a moment, then reached out and pushed herself onto the tree, swinging her legs over the thick trunk and sitting down. She watched the sunset for a while, right hand sitting expectantly on the rough surface, like it wanted a hand to hold. His hand to hold.

His name hadn’t left her mind since the Keyblade Graveyard. It was always on her tongue; to the point where she would catch herself almost saying his name instead of what she really intended to say. Often times after that, she’d forget what it was, anyway, and would dismiss herself with a little ‘nothing’ or ‘I forgot’.

She gave a sad, halfhearted smile to the empty space next to her. She thought she had seen him here, with her, a few days ago. She felt the weight of his hand on hers. Maybe he was there. She’d like to believe he was. She’d like to believe he’d appear again. Maybe it was all some sick dream, and he’d show up behind her like nothing ever happened. She squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to wake up, if she could.

She opened them. Same lavender sky, same waves, same salty air, same lack of a certain someone. Her chest hurt where Xehanort had run her through only a few days earlier. She bowed her head and shut her eyes again, a futile effort to hold back the tears falling down her face and making dark spots on her dress.

“Sora,” she choked out between her sobs. She hid her face in her hands, although there was no one to see her cry.

It could have been a minute, or it could have been an hour, but however long it was, she jumped and a quiet shocked noise escaped her mouth when she heard a twig snap from behind her. She hastily wiped her tears (trying to make it seem like she was rubbing her nose) and turned around.

“Axel.” She looked up at the fiery-haired figure standing behind her. “You’re still here.”

“Oh no, I’d left a while ago,” he said, his ever-present nonchalant air apparent in his speech. “I just came back out since I never saw you head in. I think Riku may have noticed too, but I don’t know if he said anything.” He took a few steps towards the tree, but stopped as a weak ray of sunset shone on her face.

“Oh… kid, were you crying?” He rested both hands on the trunk and leaned forward, concern written plainly on his face.

“It’s nothing. Just… something in my eyes.” Kairi knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second.

“I wonder where I’ve heard that before,” Axel replied simply, but no menace in his voice. Kairi mentally cringed. I knew he wouldn’t buy it. She furrowed her brows and looked down.

“Can I…” Axel gestured to the empty space beside her.

no not there

“Sure,” she replied, scooting over a bit so he could sit down. Her heart gave a barely felt twinge as he shifted on the bark.

Neither of them said anything as the sun sunk below the horizon. Eventually, she felt a light tap on her shoulder, and was met with a blue ice cream bar and the strong smell of sea salt and vanilla filling her nose.

“That’d better not have been in your pocket this time,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips as she took the ice cream. Her eyes were still damp, yes, but she was already feeling better with Axel around.

“Picky,” he teased as he produced an ice cream for himself. “Everyone forgets that I wrap them after I make ‘em. And besides, I was holding them in my hand. Not my pocket.”

Kairi bit off the corner of her bar. Axel followed suit, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Ah.” Kairi lifted a finger, eyebrows raised. Axel squinted in a mock glare, then swallowed the ice cream, rolling his eyes at her a little. She giggled, thinking back to how she’d always have to remind Sora not to speak with his mouth full.

Sor-

“You know, for a while, I used to not like these,” Axel said, gesturing to the ice cream with his free hand. “When I was a Nobody, anyway. I would eat them all the time – you know, with Isa – when I was younger. But when I was a Nobody, I don’t think I ate any more of this until Roxas came along. I don’t know why, but he wanted ice cream. So I went out to get some, and, remembering how much I used to eat it, I chose the sea-salt. When I tasted it for the first time – well, not really the first time, but you get my idea – it tasted awful. I didn’t know why I used to be so fond of it.” He cringed, as if he were reliving the memory. “I got used to it, though, eventually. I think I ended up getting the recipe myself, somehow.”

Kairi hummed in response, looking at Axel, red hair looking aflame under the fading rays of the sun.

“I didn’t tell you before, but… I like your outfit,” Kairi said, lightly touching the sleeve of Axel’s shirt.

He looked down at it as if he hadn’t realized he was even wearing it, then chuckled in a decidedly Axel-esque way, nudging her lightly. “Thanks, kid. You don’t look so bad yourself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kairi replied, nudging him back. The sky was in that odd transition phase between purple and blue, and right now, it was the color of Sora’s eyes. Kairi smiled at the sky, but it was pained and just brought yet another round of tears to her eyes. She ducked her head quickly, hoping Axel didn’t see. Obviously, he did.

“I know you miss him,” Axel said quietly, tentatively placing a hand on her back. Kairi nodded, too choked up to say anything back. “I’m not happy about it either,” he continued. “Didn’t expect it to happen, you know? Kid had a knack for surviving.”

Kairi nodded again, although she didn’t quite know what she was nodding at. She spoke, voice so quiet she could have been talking to herself. “Sora and I shared a paopu fruit here.” Axel raised his eyebrows in question. “Legends say that when two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They’ll remain a part of each others’ lives, no matter what.” She swiped at her eyes. “When you miss someone, they’re everywhere. They’re in everything you see. It’s unbearable.”

“Yeah,” Axel said. Kairi looked up at him a little, wiping a tear from her chin. He looked vulnerable, just like he did that day when they were training in their little corner of time. “It was the same with Roxas and Xion. It felt like a part of me was missing. A large part. We had spent so much time together, and then… they weren’t. They just weren’t there anymore. While we were training, there were times when I looked at you… and Xion was all I could see.” Kairi could see Axel’s cheeks glistening, although it didn’t seem like he had realized it himself. “It hurt. It hurt so bad.”

“Axel,” Kairi said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He jolted, like he had forgotten she was there. His grip on his half-eaten ice cream stick - which had gotten so tight the wood seemed like it was going to choke – loosened, and he touched his cheek, staring at the tears that came away with his hand.

“Guess we both need those markings under our eyes, huh?” He joked, the delivery halfhearted. Kairi laughed, the sound coming out wet and a little pained. He inched a bit closer to her, his hand moving from the middle of her back to wrapping around her in a one-armed hug.

“You must be cold,” he said simply after a quiet sniff.

“I’m not anymore,” she said, curling up on the branch and leaning into his arm. They stayed that way as the sky turned from its odd blue to indigo, from indigo to navy, from navy to a star-littered sea of black.

By now, Kairi felt herself drifting off. She didn’t know if Axel had already done that – he was lying back on where the tree bent, his shape curving with the trunk. Kairi was still curled up by him, head resting on his legs. The moonlight was illuminating his face and hair in strange ways, making him look almost alien, but not unpleasant.

Her eyes fluttered. She was going to fall asleep soon enough. “Axel?” She murmured, voice impossibly quiet. No reply. “Axel?” She tried again. “Lea?”

After a moment, a barely audible reply of “Kairi?” came drifting back.

Kairi smiled sadly at the sound, then curled into herself further, finally closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

xxx

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kairi #kingdom hearts kairi #kingdom hearts axel #kingdom hearts lea #kingdom hearts fic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #my writing #kh axel #kh lea #kh kairi

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lilysilver2722 · 4 years

Text

Jungkook High School AU - Part 4

Master List

Anonymous Said: Can I request a fluffy highschool au! with Jungkook where he has a giant crush on the noona reader (a grade or two ahead of him) and is always blushing and stuttering around her? Thank you!! Love your blog btw, you’re and amazing writer!!~

Part 4

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Noona Reader

Word Count: 2,849

Summary: You were Jungkook’s noona classmate and while you were extremely close with his friends Jimin and Taehyung, Jungkook always seemed to keep more to himself.

I couldn’t sleep that night, my mind kept turning over and over as I replayed the kiss on my front porch for the thousandth time. I knew what I wanted, but I had no way of knowing how to get what I wanted, or even if it was possible. The problem wasn’t really whether or not it would end well, but rather what would happen to my friendships in the process of gaining what I truly wanted. I was concerned with how much my happiness meant to my friends and whether or not I would lose one or even both of them in the process.

By the time the sun rose and my alarm clock went off to signal time for school my eyes were dry, red, and drooping with tiredness as I shuffled around my room and bathroom getting ready for school. I walked alone that day having left too early for Jimin and Taehyung to even consider arriving at school and busied myself in the library working on my sketch of Jungkook that I’d failed to complete the day before. My charcoal pencil traced the rough outline covering my previous markings, my eraser making the unnecessary lines disappear, the outline turning into Jungkook’s face on paper.

I was stumped when I finally arrived at his eyes, having skipped them several times already, unsure of exactly what expression to portray; his lips were equally as inexpressive, for some reason those two features that I could picture with ease were suddenly so difficult. Thankfully, the second warning bell for the beginning of the first period had rung and I quickly stuffed my sketchbook back into my backpack making my way carefully down the hall towards my History class. The next two hours of the day would be hopefully uneventful as I shared both of them with Jungkook and Biology with Jimin – both classes I was assigned to sit next to Jungkook.

I hesitated my hand hovering on the handle of the classroom door, beyond that door was the one person I was looking forward to seeing more than anything and yet, I still hesitated. What about the kiss?

Taking a steadying breath I opened the classroom door and kept my head down as I made my way over to my desk, my desk mate already seated his book open and notes scattered. Today was our first test and many of my classmates were murmuring to each other about what the content could be over. Jungkook glanced up at my arrival a wide grin on his face, but my lack of acknowledgement of his greeting soon caused the happy expression to turn quizzical.

My heart was racing for the entire class, my fingers tapping on the edge of my desk as I had finished my test early and was now watching the clock tick slowly counting down to when this period would end only for the second to begin. Jungkook’s brow was furrowed – and even though I never looked directly at him I caught enough of his profile out of the corner of my eye as I watched him warily. I was worried about what he might say when the bell rang, but I was even more worried about what he wouldn’t say. The next class was going to be troublesome, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for Math class or not – because after Math came lunch, then more classes where I would see Jimin and then Jungkook.

When the bell finally rang I snatched my books and quickly made my way towards the exit, I could feel a piercing gaze following my every step. I was ignoring him – too scared to speak to him – and now Jungkook knew for certain that I was avoiding him. The question remained – what was he going to do about it?

I somehow managed to make it through the remainder of my classes with little trouble – Biology was no less awkward than History had been, the only difference was it wasn’t just one pair of eyes looking at me, but two. Jimin thankfully respected my space and when I went to our usual spot for lunch he didn’t say much only made noncommittal grunts from time to time to appease Tae.

Taehyung knew something had happened, but being the good friend that he was he kept his mouth shut, filling the silence between Jimin and me with his own tales. English class was much the same as lunch, Tae continued to fill the silence when we were free to work on our writing assignments, most of the class spent the extra time chatting about plans for the upcoming weekend.

I had pulled out my sketchbook opening up to the last page which just so happened to be my sketch of Jungkook. Jimin’s eyes had drifted over to take a peek at my book; his brow furrowed, but said nothing. My cheeks heated and I coughed lightly as I casually turned to a blank page trying not to draw further attention from Jimin’s curious gaze.

Quietly I began sketching a moon scene over the ocean. I loved reflections on water and in my free time I liked to take pictures of reflective moments to sketch later on. The great thing about light was that it was a beautiful thing to recreate on paper, but if you weren’t fast enough it was gone in the blink of an eye.

My heart was racing as I walked slowly to Art, my eyes drifting to the hall clock that told me I had thirty seconds before the bell rang.

It’s now or never.

I stepped into the room with seconds to spare and made my way quickly to my desk and Jungkook as Ms. Park took a stand at the front of the room.

“Afternoon class, I want you all to continue working on your sketches from yesterday. If it helps you to move around the room or even the school grounds I’m giving you all a free pass today.” Most of the class started to murmur in excitement at the prospect of going outside.

“That being said, I want you all to be back in this room with thirty minutes to spare so I can take a look at your progress so far.”

My eyes wandered over the room as the class began to divide up. A couple of the pairs went over to the windows while most of the class headed for the exit door that led outside.

“In or out?”

My eyes shot over to Jungkook who was looking at me with concern etched on his face. His lips turned down slightly as he waited for your response.

“Personally, I prefer In ‘n Out’s animal fries.” The joke slipped out from between my lips without even a second thought.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed in confusion then he burst into belly laughing. His hands clutching his sides as he pushed back against the chair with mirth written all over his face.

My cheeks flamed bright red as the remaining class looked over at us in curiosity to see what had Jungkook in such a laughing fit. Wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, Jungkook chuckled before gathering his sketchbook and pencil case. “Outside it is.”

We sat in somewhat uncomfortable silence for the first fifteen minutes. Jungkook appeared to be concentrating on shading his piece, but I was still struggling to get his eye shape right. Groaning in frustration, I flung my sketchpad down on the grass, reaching for my sharpener I began to furiously grate my pencil to get it as sharp as possible. I needed the finest detailing out of it I could get, but I was still struggling with the fine lines.

“I like it,” Jungkook spoke softly – so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.

I glanced up from my furious sharpening to see Jungkook clutching my sketchbook lightly between his slender fingers. My cheeks flushed pink as I watched him observing my work.

“I-it’s not done, or anything.”

“I know.” He stated, eyes glancing up at me with a piercing look before turning his attention back to the sketch of himself.

“I-I haven’t even managed to get y-your eyes right.” My cheeks grew hotter as I stumbled over my words a little more this time.

“I know.”

The tone of his voice was still pointed, his eyes not lifting from the page this time as he cocked his head to the left to look at it from a different angle.

“My nose isn’t that crooked though.”

My eyes widened as I shot to my knees to lean over the sketchbook in his outstretched hands. “What do you mean crooked? I used a ruler and everything.”

Jungkook started to chuckle lightly, my eyes shot up to his fact which was only about a foot away from mine. “I hoped that would take care of your stutter.”

I smiled slightly, my eyes drifting back down to the sketch as I tilted my head to make sure his nose wasn’t crooked.

“It’s not crooked.” My voice held a slight tone of indignation.

Jungkook laughed again as he handed my sketchpad back over to me. I plopped back down on the ground in a huff as I turned the book upside down and around to check it from other angles. “It’s not.”

“I know,” Jungkook’s voice was playful as he picked up his own pad again this time he was writing something in the lower corner.

“Are you done already?” My voice raised in awe at the flourish with which he wrote his signature on the paper.

“Yeah, I finished it yesterday for the most part; I was just smoothing out some of the lines and adding shading.” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal.

“Can I see it?” I asked my voice full of awe.

Jungkook’s doe eyes looked back up at me in shock, his own cheeks turning pink under my gaze. With slight hesitation he handed the sketchpad over to me, mumbling something about not touching it to mess up the shading.

My eyes scanned over the whole page taking in my own face on paper and not in a mirror. I’d never seen myself from someone else’s point of view before, but I was seeing it now. I was seeing what Jungkook saw when he looked at me.

The pose was of me sitting in what appeared to be the library based on the large window in the background of the portrait, the shadow of a desk and books scattered in front of me. My hair was swept to the side, hiding my face from those to my back, but not to the person across from me. I knew this spot. I even knew this pose. It was the seat I always sat in at the back of the library by the large window surrounded by stacks of books, my back always to the rest of the room. Jungkook always sat across from me and now I knew why.

Even through black and white on paper I could see the way he captured the light reflecting on my face, parts of it were in shadow, others were the color of the paper underneath, white and highlighted. My brows were creased a little bit and I was biting my lower lip in concentration. Every detail was laid out on paper before me and I was in complete shock.

Jungkook not only managed to do this over the course of the previous class period, but he had to have worked on it after school as well. The amount of detail he’d put into this showed way too much work and made my half completed portrait look like amateur hour.

“Wow,” My eyes lifted from the pad in front of me to Jungkook who sat patiently his eyes trained on my face as he waited for my feedback.

“I-I don’t,”

“Noona, I thought we got past the stuttering,” Jungkook chided his tone playful as his lips parted in his signature bunny smile.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, my eyes drifting down his piece in front of me. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Ouch, noona, you wound me.” Jungkook’s hands immediately went up to grasp at his heart his brow furrowed in mock pain.

“All of this,” I paused. “All of this, from memory? You didn’t even use a picture or anything?”

Jungkook didn’t take his eyes off mine as he shook his head. My heart dropped again, my stomach doing flips as the reality came crashing down around me.

“Hey you two, it’s time to go back in,” My head shot up to see one of the girls from our class motioning for us to go back inside the classroom.

Silently, Jungkook and I gathered up our things as we made our way back to the school in silence. I was still too stunned to speak, but Jungkook’s spirits seem to have lifted a bit more.

They continued to lift as Ms. Park gushed over Jungkook’s technique and his clear talent with art. He smiled widely as she handed the pad back to him her smile wide as she took mine to go over what I have done.

“Very nice, Y/N, especially for someone who had a fear of drawing people when entering this class. I can tell you really know your subject from what you have done already.” My cheeks flushed with the praise, I was used to her admiring my landscapes, but when it came to our previous people assignments, I mostly got a kind smile and nothing more.

“I see the eyes still need a little work though; maybe try an expression that is more natural, less posed.”

I nodded in thanks and took my sketchbook back glancing down at the half done eyes. She was right, and my mind drifted back to a little while ago when I had asked Jungkook to see his sketch. He’d given me such a soft expression of genuine shock, his eyes were wide with surprise, but soft, I had grown accustomed to it. His lips had been parted just slightly in surprise as well, but they’d quickly lifted at the corners into a soft smile.

Flipping the sketchpad closed I carefully placed it in my bag with my pencil case as I headed out of the classroom with Jungkook in tow. We bid farewell, I explained that I had the perfect expression in mind for his eyes, but I wanted it to be a surprise for the final reveal. I received a small pout in return, Jungkook’s pouty bottom lip jutting out in sadness as he tried to plead with me to let him see it before that, but I only waved him off going up the stairs to my locker to switch some of my books around.

I didn’t see Taehyung or Jimin around the lockers when I arrived or even as I was finishing up. Sighing heavily, I was thankful to avoid Jimin this time, but I was sad not to see Taehyung as he was almost always at his locker after school.

I was halfway down the front stairs by the cafeteria when I heard my name coming from the gym area. Jimin was waving me over enthusiastically.

“Y/N!” Jimin shouted again as he continued waving frantically. He was alone, it looked like he was just coming from the showers as his hair was still dripping a bit, but he seemed to not notice or care.

Cautiously, I walked over to him. This whole day we’d equally been awkward around each other in an attempt to not bring up the kiss from last night, but here was, now, waving me over.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly, my lips forming a crooked and cautious smile, my hands gripped onto my bag strap a little tighter. Jimin’s eyes took in my clenched hands and smiled warmly.

“Hi, yourself,” His eyes glowed with mischief. “Look, Y/N, I just wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“Jimin, I-”

Jimin held up a hand silencing my protest. “Please, let me finish. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you.”

My cheeks flushed pink as I recalled the kiss, his tender touch; even if it hadn’t been the one I wanted.

“I, I screwed up.”

My eyes widened in shock, mouth opened to speak, but Jimin hurried on.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. It was wrong, I get that now, but” Jimin stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans sheepishly. “I’m glad I did. Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized that my feelings for you weren’t as deep as I always thought.

“Can we start over?”

My eyes widened at Jimin’s words, his warm brown eyes were filled with hope, a small smile tugging on his lips.

The sound of a loud thump broke the both of us out of the moment. Jimin turned, which allowed me to see past him at the sound – or rather who made the sound.

Jungkook.

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itsmyusualphannie · 4 years

Text

something wrong in the village

Chapter 1/5: genesis Beta: @candanandphilnot Rating: T Warnings: None Read on ao3

Summary: Fiona Lester has a secret. Dan Howell thinks they hate each other. Dan meets an online friend and comes to realize something important about himself while juggling a changing relationship with his parents, friends, and Fiona.

Author’s notes: this was written for the phandom writer discord server’s gift fic exchange! happy holidays @sudden-sky you’d better enjoy your present

~~~ next chapter ~~~

"Mr Howell, are you with us today?"

The voice broke through Dan's concentration on his sketchbook and he glanced up, meeting the cool gaze of his English teacher. "Uh," he said. He didn't set down the pencil gripped in one hand. "Yeah."

His seat juddered as the person sitting behind him kicked it. Dan's pencil, the tip still set to the sketchbook, skidded across the paper and left an angry scrawl across his rough sketch of a drum set. Dan could feel the smirk of the person sitting behind him. He fumed, but had to do so silently as his teacher cast him one last glance before turning back toward the board.

"As I mentioned, Dan, we're reviewing parenthetical citation today, since everyone's essay is due next week. Can anyone tell me how in-text citation for MLA format is used in research essays…?" Her voice faded into the background as Dan focused back onto his sketchbook.

He scribbled ineffectively with his eraser at the deep gash carved into the paper for a few long moments, then pursed his lips and stared down at the ruined sketch. Finally, he let out a slow breath and reached for the corner of the page. This barely-begun sketch was completely ruined now. His fingers rustled against the edge of the paper and he lifted it, trying his best to avoid any more attention from his teacher, but his chair was kicked again, and Dan almost ripped the paper as he jumped. He hastily flipped the paper over to a new page and hissed over his shoulder, "Stop it, you dick."

There was no response, but it was a smug silence. Dan was almost at the back of the classroom, so the person sitting behind him was in the very back and had little regard for the teacher, anyway.

Dan held still for a good minute, but no other kicks jarred him. Cautiously, he lowered his pencil to the blank, full-of-potential paper, and outlined a swift cylinder. He had just begun to add a matching cylinder, the next drum in the set, when another kick, the most ferocious all day, shook his seat. Dan dropped his pencil and clenched a fist. "Cut it out," he snarled.

This time, the person just laughed, a quiet, mocking thing.

Dan considered his options. He could, a) Raise his hand, politely tell the teacher, politely be told off because Dan was disturbing the class, and be sent to the principal when he inevitably snapped at the teacher; or he could, b) Very carefully place his sketchbook, pencil, and various class materials into his backpack so he wouldn't get them mussed, very carefully slide out of his seat, and then very carefully place a well-aimed punch to the cheek of the asshole behind him, and then be sent to the principal, but with a much more fulfilled feeling in his chest.

Dan did take his time weighing these options, but the second option was ultimately decided for him when said asshole's shoe thudded into his chair again. Dan very carefully collected his materials and slipped them into his backpack, and then he very carefully slid out of his seat, and then he very carefully aimed a punch at the cheek of the asshole behind him.

Well, that last part didn't end so well. The asshole had evidently been expecting this, as Dan's fist was neatly avoided and Dan was instead caught by the elbow and slammed face-first into the hardwood floor.

Thud, went Dan's body.

Thud, went the asshole's body only a second later when Dan grabbed the nearest ankle and yanked.

“DANIEL HOWELL,” went the teacher, which Dan found quite unfair, as he was clearly not the only one sprawled across the floor at the moment.

~~~

They were both sent to the principal's office.

Dan had miscalculated feeling any fulfilment in his chest, as the only feeling he had right now was a dull ache where his breastbone had cracked unceremoniously into his desk leg upon a furious kick from the asshole. Their flailing on the floor had taken a full two minutes for the teacher to break up, and Dan had gained his share of throbbing injuries. He'd done his fair share, though, as the other was nursing a tender eye that was sure to bloom into a beautiful black eye.

They glared at each other in the secretary's area until the principal called them in.

"Why am I not surprised to see you two again?" was all she said upon seeing them. She rubbed the space between her perfectly-plucked eyebrows and then raised both eyebrows at them. "What happened now?"

A mutinous silence reigned.

"Sit down," she sighed.

They sat mutinously.

"Daniel Howell," she began.

"Louise," started Dan, in the same tone.

"It's Dr Pentland," she continued in the exact same intonation, "and I'd like to know what, exactly, persuaded you to attack the lovely Miss Fiona Lester?"

The asshole seated beside Dan cringed back into the seat. Dan refused to look over, just stared at the principal with a carefully bored expression plastered across his face.

Dr Pentland kept his gaze for a moment, and then she sighed deeply and turned to Fiona. "And you? You're both troublemakers. You’re constantly on your phone in class and Dan is always drawing and not paying attention to his teachers. I'm sure that Dan didn't decide, out of the kindness of his heart, to paint your face instead of his sketchbook."

As if she hadn't remembered until just then, Fiona touched careful fingertips to the bruise slowly blooming beneath her eye. She winced, then tossed a long, wavy lock of dark hair over her shoulder and stared ahead with uncanny amusement. A deliberate shrug, then a sly glance sideways at Dan.

Dan ripped his gaze away from her and glowered at the floor. He definitely had not been watching her.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Dr Pentland buried her face in her hands. The words were almost indecipherable, muffled. "Oh, god. Are my kids going to be like this when they get to sixth form?"

Dan and Fiona took the chance while she wasn't looking to exchange mutual sneers. Fiona's was considerably more impressive, Dan noted, but that didn't damper his resolve. They hastily looked back at Dr Pentland when she lifted her head.

"Alright," she said, and then nodded, firmly. "Alright. I've had enough of this. Ever since you two began this year, you've been at each others' throats. It's quite time for this to end."

Incorrect, Dan thought with glee. He and Fiona had been at each others' throats since they were twelve and thirteen, respectively. They just hadn't physically tussled in school until sixth form. It was a perfect, mutual hatred. Dan didn't think many other 16-year-olds could say that they had a real-life, mortal enemy.

At least Dr Pentland was one of the few who didn't insist that it was just sexual tension and that they would get over it soon enough. She took their mortal hatred seriously. Well, if her almost-weekly exasperation was serious.

Besides, Dan would never be attracted to someone like Fiona. He may only be sixteen, but he knew what he liked, and that was not Fiona. Well, Dan maybe knew what he liked. He thought he knew what he liked. He didn't know what he liked, but it was not Fiona.

" - and you're going to take a note to your parents, too," finished Dr Pentland, which was just about where Dan tuned back in, having heard nothing she had said in the past two minutes. She regarded them both sternly. "Understand?"

Fiona nodded. Dan nodded more apathetically, never one to be outdone even if he definitely did not understand.

"Great. Get your notes from the secretary. I expect you both to behave once you come back to school. I hope your time off will give you some time to think about your actions."

There was a pause, wherein Dr Pentland traded suspicious stares with both Dan and Fiona. "You're dismissed," she said finally.

Dan scrambled to his feet and for the door, but Fiona beat him. She yanked it open and waved him through with a wide, obnoxious smile. "Ladies first," she said, teeth bared. Her eyes were ferociously beautiful.

Dan threw himself through the door with aplomb and snapped back at her, "I'm a fucking queen, thanks."

~~~

They were suspended.

Dan wasn't exactly surprised when the secretary had scribbled something onto a note and handed it to him. "I already emailed it to your parents," she told him with a too-smug expression as if to tell him that Yeah you can't get out of talking to them. Dan had just yanked the paper from her hand and shoved it in his pocket with no regard for its carefully-folded lines.

Fiona had elbowed him aside and the secretary had begun to rise from her seat, alarmed at the prospect of another fight, but Dan just scoffed and turned his back, grabbing his backpack from the seat he'd been waiting in earlier. He'd left much less dramatically than he'd hoped, as the door slid shut with a quiet hush instead of slamming.

He'd stood defiantly on the kerb for a good ten minutes before giving in and dialling his mum. Fiona had passed him with an air of disinterest, but when she'd peeled out of the parking lot in her old, rumbling car, she'd waved two very specific fingers out of the window at him and just laughed when he returned them. Dan had only been left with the superimposed image of her open, crooked grin and sleek hair whipping around her face. He hated her.

"Dan?" said his mum when she answered, but it was more resigned than anything else. She already knew why he would be calling at nine in the morning on a school day.

"I'm suspended," he said, voice still brittle from the hoarse memory of screeching when Fiona had yanked on his hair during the fight.

She sighed. "I'll call your dad. He'll get there sooner."

"Thanks," he said reluctantly. He kicked the kerb with the tip of his worn Vans. They scuffed a little more than they already were.

"We'll talk when I get home from work," she promised, "just...do your homework, okay? Don't let it be like last time."

Last time meant the one-day suspension a few months ago. Dan had walked the three miles from his house to Fiona's and hurled tiny rocks at her bedroom window until she'd yanked it open. He'd generously exchanged the rocks for eggs, gratified immediately by her shrill screams.

No one seemed to remember that Fiona had returned the favour when she slipped a rotten egg in Dan's bag a few days later. No one remembered her part of anything.

Dan hung up without saying good-bye to his mum. His phone chimed a moment later with a text from her. Stay out front & text me when yr dad gets there.

Fine, he texted back, then shoved the phone deep into his pocket and glared at the empty parking space that Fiona's car had vacated until his dad arrived.

~~~

"Homework," his dad reminded him one more time before rolling up his window and peeling away from the kerb in front of their house, on his way back to work. Dan glowered after him and whirled to make his way into the house. Their front door slammed, at least, which left Dan with a burning fragment of pleasure as he stormed toward his room. He hurled his backpack onto his bed, then made his way back to the front room and into the kitchen. Raiding the pantry and the fridge yielded a chunk of cheese, a bag of crackers, and a chilled half-bottle of Ribena.

Dan had mostly calmed down by the time he'd eaten most of the cheese and crackers and the Ribena bottle was empty. He'd sprawled on the chair in his room, slumped over the spoils he laid out across his desk. Brushing the crumbs off his open laptop, he apathetically watched them bounce to the floor and nestle between the curls of carpet. Future Dan could deal with it.

Sometimes, Dan wished he had even one real friend. He didn't think a gaggle of casual acquaintances who didn't even really know him counted as friends. His self-named mortal enemy certainly didn't, although sometimes it felt like she knew him better than his friends did.

A good two hours passed as Dan lazily scrolled through his Tumblr dashboard, occasionally reblogging or liking a post. He briefly considered doing his homework, but he had three full days to do that now. He briefly considered collecting some eggs and going for a walk but decided he was in enough trouble as it was. Fiona might not even be home, too.

It was only when the clock above Dan's desk clicked as it hit noon that Dan glanced up and noticed how much time had passed. He scowled at the clock and rebelliously continued scrolling through Tumblr.

Need Freinds?

Dan stopped scrolling.

He didn't know if it was the typo, the horrific bouncing image of two generic white girls smiling brightly at each other, or even the advertisement itself that made him do a double-take.

"Who the hell wants to make friends?" he said aloud. "And especially on Tumblr. These advertisers should know better."

He rolled his eyes and resolutely continued scrolling.

Two minutes and twelve posts passed, and then Dan scrolled back up to the advertisement. The two girls were still grinning at each other, their falsely-white teeth gleaming. One was curling her hands in the shape of a heart.

It was disgusting, Dan resolved, and he clicked on the ad. It was purely for the irony of such a decision, of course.

The ad popped open a new tab, which rapidly cycled through a few sponsored links and subsequently, briefly panicking Dan as he thought frantically that it must have been a virus and oh, he'd fucked up now. Finally, the link settled on the homepage of a website that declared 'FRIENDS on Fleek - Find the FRIEND For You!' It was suitably themed, with overly bright colours and cheerful anecdotes from people who had supposedly used the website and found 'friend' matches.

We're location-based! declared the 'About' section about halfway down the homepage. We guarantee that your BFF won't be halfway across the world, so you can eventually meet them in person with no problems! Find your FRIEND match now!'

Definitely disgusting, Dan decided.

He clicked on the 'Sign Up' button in the top right corner. Just for the irony, of course.

He filled out the forum that asked for a username and password, his name, which he simply put as 'Bear,' age, gender options - She/Her, Him/His, They/Theirs, and a personalized option made some small part of Dan a little more interested in the website - and a brief biography. Dan put "lol rawr xD" in the biography and laughed for a solid two minutes before clicking to the next page. This one asked for his favourite songs and bands, favourite foods, and about fifty other random questions that Dan mostly skimmed. This probably-a-scam website had a considerable amount of effort put into it. Dan wasn't sure whether to be worried or impressed at the detail they'd invested.

The last page asked him for a profile picture and to reveal his location.

This information is secure, promised the website, as any scam website would likely promise, but to make sure no one lies about their location, you must activate the location tracker on your device. This is similar to location-based dating apps such as Tinder but is much vaguer. Your location will be in a general 50-mile area.

However, continued the cheerful, almost blindingly-bright font a few lines down, you do not need to share a profile picture if you do not feel comfortable! Please check 'Decline' to decline this option.

Dan considered the warnings his parents had given him for the past sixteen years of his life about revealing his location and picture to strangers. He considered the talking to he was going to get tonight about his suspension, and decided to - ironically, he insisted to himself - only obey half of the warnings.

He revealed his location, but he clicked the Decline button for the profile picture.

Congratulations! chimed a message as soon as the screen had finished loading, absorbing his personal information into the Matrix, probably. You're in our system to find a FRIEND! Please be safe when meeting all new FRIENDS.

"Gross," said Dan.

The new personalized page showed his profile and a few options in the website page bar to 'Upgrade' his account. There was a notification bar in the upper-right corner and a tiny envelope icon, which Dan assumed was for messages from "FRIENDS," he announced, loud in the silent house.

0 New Matches, said the notification bar when he clicked on it.

Dan scoffed. Of course there were zero matches. Even a scam website couldn't find a fake friend for Dan. Then again, it probably wanted him to 'Upgrade' his account.

"Nice try," Dan told the website. "I have exactly enough money for the music festival in three weeks, and I doubt I'll be getting anymore for another month or two because my parents are mad at me now. I'm not upgrading shit."

The website automatically refreshed.

Dan just blinked at it. "The fuck? Are you trying to communicate with me?"

The website unhelpfully did not do anything else. Dan squinted at it and slowly moused over to click on the notification bar.

1 New Matches, announced the notification bar.

"Sure," said Dan. He flicked the mouse, ready to exit out of the entire website, but his gaze caught on the notification again.

It taunted him.

"Fuck you," said Dan, and he clicked on it.

The page reloaded again, revealing a profile that was fully-fleshed out other than the profile picture, just like Dan's.

85% FRIEND match! declared the banner above the profile.

Dan rolled his eyes generously and skimmed it. Hi my name's Phil, said the biography, and since you're probably a creepy stalker I'm not putting personal information in this, other than my favourite TV show because you need to watch it. Stranger Things is the best and oh I'm running out of space ok.

Name: Phil. Age: 17. Gender: Male (He/Him). Location: Within 25 miles. Inbox: Open to matches. Message "Phil"!

Dan scoffed, but he could feel interest stirring in his chest. He ruthlessly attempted to squash it, but the interest had no plans of letting go anytime soon. It persistently clung to the edges of his heart. He ignored the tiny envelope icon next to Phil's name which prompted him to initiate a conversation, and scrolled further down the page, taking note of the areas where they had 'Matched' up.

Mutual favourite bands? Muse was the only band they had both listed, but Phil's list also said Like 500 more I'm not naming them all.

Mutual favourite TV shows? Great British Bake-Off Show, Breaking Bad, Sherlock, Queer Eye, Bojack Horseman.

Mutual books? None. Phil had listed a few but Dan hadn't put down any of his. At this point where he'd been answering the questions, he'd just been trying to finish the form.

Mutual favourite foods? Pizza. Dan's had also said Pizza dips, but he figured he'd let that one slide. Phil's also said Sweets, in general, at which Dan crinkled his nose.

Mutual…

Phil had apparently given up on the other fifty or so various questions, as all of these were blank. Dan had filled out only a few of them, but he was disgruntled suddenly, that his lack of effort had been beaten by this guy.

Ah, Dan reminded himself, this bot, probably.

He stared at the screen for another few minutes. He was waiting, although he didn't want to admit it to himself, for a message - even if it was automated - from the match. The minutes passed, and none came. The page stubbornly did not auto-refresh, so Dan did it himself a few times, eyeing the little envelope icon each time.

Finally, he heaved a deep sigh. Irony, he reminded himself. "Do I have to do everything myself?" he muttered at the computer, and then he clicked on the envelope icon next to Phil's name.

A new page loaded. An inbox this time, apparently. It was empty, but a new message opened, automatically addressed to 'amazingphil' and titled "To my new FRIEND match Phil!"

Ask your new match about one of your shared interests! prompted faded text inside the message box. Or tell a funny joke!

"Gross," Dan said again. He deleted the message title and replaced it with "wtf is stranger things?" A few moments of rapid tapping against the keys, and he had 'lol wtf is stranger things & why is it your favourite TV show? & whose fave food is just sweets and pizza?' in the body of the message.

"There," Dan decided. It was just rude enough to put off any actual humans that might be on the other end but random enough that a computer response would find it difficult to decipher. He hoped, at least.

He clicked the send button. Immediately, another prompt from the website popped up, glaring neon colours as it informed him that Once your new FRIEND match responds, you can open the chat and talk with more ease! Until then, you are restricted to one message a day.

Dan scowled heavily at it. This website was obnoxious and far, far too extra. He'd probably been ironic for long enough. It was time to shut this down...unless...well, surely it wouldn't hurt to ironically get a reply from a bot?

As if summoned, his inbox chimed with a new message. Dan stared wide-eyed for a long moment, but then he opened it, fingers trembling subconsciously as he clicked.

'Stranger Things is the best TV show ever!!' declared the message, sender listed as 'amazingphil.' Dan blinked widely. 'tbh you're missing out if you haven't seen it. And sweets are a perfectly normal food! whose favourite foods are just pizza and pizza dips? I'm concerned for your safety'

Dan heaved in a breath. He heaved another. He reached for the keyboard, but his hands disobeyed him and instead yanked the laptop screen down. It thudded shut with a resounding bang!

"I'm going to get murdered," he announced to the empty room.

~~~ next chapter ~~~

#phan #phanfic #phanfic au #high school #trans phil #misunderstandings

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orbitariums · 3 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡.𝟏𝟑 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟑)

hence the title! this is a sneak peek/snippet of chapter 13 which has been in the works for a while and i just haven’t updated!!! but i’ve been so inactive on here, i figured i could at least share a snippet. plus i missed yall :’))))

no telling when ch. 13 will actually be done/out! but i hope y’all like this lil sneak peeeeek <333

words: 3.6k

warnings: smut!

playlist *updated recently, go check it out!*

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭/𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

Steve noticed you shifting, and looked over at you, the side of his lip quirked up into a grin. You stretched out like a cat below him, batting your lashes inadvertently.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Steve teased, and you chuckled.

“Morning,” you said back.

Your eyes widened as you realized Steve was drawing in his sketchbook.

“You’re drawing?” you grinned excitedly, and he laughed sheepishly and shook his head.

“Yeah. Haven’t done it in a while, it’s just random sketching… it’s a mess, honestly,” he brushed it off, but you frowned.

“Maybe… I got time. But,” he grunted, closing his sketchbook and turning to face you. “I wanna spend time with you. Go head, get dressed. I wanna take you out today.”

“You… look gorgeous all the time,” he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, pulling you close under his arm.

“You’re sweet,” you grinned, and laid your head in the crook of his armpit, letting him lead you out of the apartment, letting him lead you to bliss.

When you got in the car, you saw that in the backseat there was a picnic basket and a blanket. You gasped, clasping your hand over your mouth and gaping wide eyed at Steve.

“Are we going on a picnic?” you cooed, grinning wide.

He smiled back,

“You figured it out. Listen, it’s nice out, and I know a great woodsy area where we can be alone and in peace.”

You raised a brow,

“And here I was thinking New York was a concrete jungle.”

“Gotta go up north for the good stuff,” Steve shrugged. “It’s nice and secluded, so we won’t have to worry about laying low. Just wanted to take my girl out officially.”

You leaned your elbow against the window, facing Steve as you pressed your palm to your cheek with a smug smile,

“Your girl, huh?”

Steve glanced over at you, dimples forming at his cheek as he smiled back,

“My girl.”

“I like the sound of that,” you cooed, your eyes glimmering with admiration for him.

“Me too. Glad you like it,” Steve replied, his chest warming up with satisfaction.

He was testing out how calling you his girl sounded, and he loved the thought of it. Even though you were his girl, you were still entirely your own woman. That’s what he loved about you.

| | |

“Oh, this place is so beautiful,” you said for probably the third time since you’d arrived.

Steve set the things down on a nice clear patch of grass — he had refused to let you carry anything no matter how much you insisted — and started to set up.

Steve trailed off, his cheeks threatening to go red as he remembered what you did instead of a picnic that day. He couldn’t deny that he thought about it often—that he thought about touching you over and over again because there was nothing better than that feeling you gave each other. But nothing much had happened since then, mainly due to lack of time— you just recently had to deal with Bucky finding out, but now that that was over, you’d have more than enough time. You both felt like the fact that that situation was over called for celebration, and you knew just how you’d celebrate.

“For you,” you stood in front of him, tucking the flower right at his ear. “Aw, Steve. You look so soft.”

“Not too early for a drink, is it?” Steve asked, tilting his head up to the sky, glistening with sun.

“Never too early,” you grinned mischievously, biting down on your lip as you watched Steve pour two glasses of rose.

He handed you yours and then raised his own, and you reached forward to clink the glass in a toast.

“To us,” Steve said, and you nodded in agreement.

“To us.”

You took a sip of your drink and sighed in satisfaction, smacking your lips. Looking at Steve in front of you felt like such a sight to see. Your heart swelled as you took in your surroundings—the beautiful woods around you and the picnic Steve had somehow put together without your knowledge. And Steve was looking at you just the same way, so unaware of your nonchalant beauty as you leaned back, your skin glistening in the sunlight. You humphed, wanting to be closer, and practically crawled over to him. Steve’s eyes lowered as he watched you approach him, then settle into his lap with your legs on either side of his thick legs. The faintest grin appeared on his lips as you slung your arms around his neck lazily, holding the glass of wine between your fingers in one hand behind him.

“You really did all this for me, huh?” you asked, letting a finger trail along his chin, prickly from the beard he was growing.

He bit down on his lip, his hand traveling to grasp your wrist softly and keep your hands touching his face, coming down to cup his chin.

“I hope you love it,” he replied, and you giggled,

“Are you kidding? We have to go out here again before I leave,” you decided then and there.

You still had loads of time left with Steve, and luckily there was so much you had yet to do together.

“I promise we will.”

“Steve,” you sighed out his name, leaning in closer to him. “I’m so happy here.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

You both laughed quietly and Steve pulled you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck making you lurch forward as he led you with his lips.

“No, not yet,” Steve shot back in a suggestive tone, and you raised a brow.

“Gonna come, princess?” Steve whispered hotly into your ear, reaching his fingers down and feeling the wet mark that had formed in your underwear, pressing against your throbbing clit.

“There’s— oh,” Steve groaned when your lips reached his v-line, unsure of how he was still even able to talk with the way that his voice felt so constricted. “There’s still food—”

“Just relax,” you interrupted, and he accepted without argument, throwing his head back and letting you do the work.

| | |

Today, Steve was out at work until further notice, but he made up for it by ordering breakfast for you, accompanied by a lovely note that he left on the kitchen table that morning.

Had to go in today. Promise me you won’t miss me too much. Be back soon.

- Steve Rogers

“Hey!” you chimed.

You smirked, placing a hand on his chest,

“Maybe a little. Maybe.”

“Well, I missed you,” he grinned, his voice getting softer. He nodded towards the open door behind him. “Get dressed, I wanna take you someplace.”

mkay i hope y’all enjoyed that suuuper short lil sneak peek i miss y’all tons & missed posting my writing on here. i can’t wait to get back to normal <333

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