#their steam baby would be dressed as Wednesday

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

The Wedding

Y/N is stressed planning for their wedding and Harry can’t seem to do anything right.

Warnings: angst, sad ending, explicit language

Word Count: 1.2k

Y/N gazed at the bling on her finger, the stone catching in the sunlight. It had been 6 months since she had said yes and wedding planning was in full swing. Of course with Harry being CEO of one of the largest Fortune 500 companies in the world, their wedding was all any of the tabloids were talking about.

Harry and Y/N. London’s power couple. There were now less than 2 months before the big day and Y/N had everything under control. Well… she thought she did. Y/N sighed and rubbed her temples as she stared at the seating chart, a massive binder beside her. A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of her as Harry kissed the top of her head before sitting down next to her.

“Y/N. You’ve been staring at those charts for the last two hours. Why don’t you take a break?” She raised an eyebrow before taking a deep breath.

“Take a break? Are you kidding me? Our wedding is in 2 months Harry. And the seating plan still isn’t finished. I still haven’t bought my dress, you haven’t been to get a tux and we haven’t booked the flowers. We haven’t booked the flowers Harry!” He chuckled before tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“It’s going to be fine Y/N. Ok let me help. We can have our parents seated together on table 2… wait. Your mom isn’t on this list?” Y/N sighed as Harry looked up at her quizzically.

“I don’t know if I want to invite her. We still haven’t worked out all of our issues and I don’t need her coming in and running the whole show.”

“Why don’t you invite her for a visit? You need to work things out and I’m sure she would love nothing more than to be there for you on our day.” Y/N took a large sip of her coffee, shaking her head violently.

“Nope. No way Harry. I can’t deal with her right now. I’m stressed enough as it is.”

“But maybe if you tried you could-”

“I said NO Harry. Stop pushing it.” She turned her attention back to the seating chart, shutting him out completely. Harry watched her for a few moments before shaking his head and walking to the study. She’s just overwhelmed, he told himself. We’re going to be fine.

~

3 weeks later Y/N felt like she was drowning. She had found her dress but it was the wrong size since she had lost so much weight for the wedding. Everyone was getting on her nerves. Even Harry. Well… especially Harry. She heard the front door open then close and tore her gaze away from her planner to see Harry come in through the front door. Noticeably, without a tux. He leant down to kiss her hello, before noticing her annoyed glare.

“Everything ok hun?”

“Harry… where’s your tux?” Y/N asked coolly. His expression turned to confusion.“Y/N, what are you talking about? You told me last week to pick it up on Wednesday. It’s- he checked the date on his phone- shit. I thought it was Tuesday. Doesn’t matter, I'll just go tomorrow.” Y/N slammed her book shut before glaring at him once more.

“You can’t just “go tomorrow.” They’re closed for the next 3 weeks Harry. You won’t have time to make any adjustments if it’s wrong. God why can’t you just listen for once?!” She bit out frustrated.

Harry laughed dryly.

“Why can’t I just listen for once? Jesus Y/N, I have been listening to you for the past 6 months complain about each tiny thing that has gone wrong. Big deal. I forgot to collect it. I’ll go and get it when I can. Calm down.” Y/N stood up from the couch seething.

“Calm down? Are you fucking serious? I am so busy Harry. I have a company to run and the wedding of the year to plan. Have you seen these tabloids? I am so sick of all of them asking whether or not I’m having a baby because I seem to have ‘gained a little weight’ lately. I’m asking you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. What have you done to help me Harry? I am so sick of you.”

“Oh my god Y/N what the hell is wrong with you? It’s our wedding, it’s not the hunger games. No one is dying if it isn’t perfect. I don’t understand why you-” The doorbell rang, silencing the both of them.

Y/N stalked over to the door and wrenched it open.

“My baby!” Y/N spat out a mouthful of blonde hair as she was brought into a bone-crushing hug.

“I’ve missed you so much! And a wedding? When Harry called me last week to invite me, I just couldn’t believe it!” Y/N tugged out of the hug shooting a death glare at her fiance.

“Harry did what?” Lauren Williams beamed at her daughter, oblivious to the tension in the room.

“He invited me to the wedding honey.” She repeated patiently. Lauren moved around to give Harry a hug.

“I can’t wait to help you with everything sweetie. Have you chosen a dress? Can I see? What about flowers? Because they can be hard to-”

“Mom,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. “I just need to have a quick chat with Harry ok?”

Y/N dragged Harry to the spare bedroom down the hall to make sure Lauren couldn’t hear them.

“Ok what the fuck Harry? I specifically told you I didn’t want her here!” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought it would be better for you guys to sort out your issues before the wedding but it seems like we have some stuff to work out ourselves.” Y/N huffed before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah? No kidding. This is another example of you not listening. You don’t make an effort Harry and it drives me insane since I’m here fighting for this wedding. For us.” Harry snapped.

“Well if it’s so difficult for you then maybe we should call off the wedding! This clearly isn't working for us anymore! He yelled.

Y/N’s mouth snapped shut, her anger replaced with sadness. Her eyes glistened with tears and her bottom lip trembled.

“Are you… serious?” She asked quietly. “You just want to give up on us?” Because of an argument?” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration evident.

“One argument? All we do is argue! I haven’t had a single conversation with you that hasn’t ended with one of us screaming in the last 2 weeks. I don’t know what you want from me Y/N! I’m trying. I swear to god I’m fucking trying.”

“So is that what we’re doing then? Calling it off?”

“No Y/N I didn’t mean that. I just-”

“No, you made it pretty clear what you meant.” She let the tears fall freely now, dodging around him to get through the door, grabbing her purse off the table ignoring the confused look from her mother.

“Y/N, come back! We can work this out.”

“I have to get out of here Harry.” She rushes out onto the street, tears clouding her vision, her one goal being to get to her car. She doesn’t hear Harry screaming her name until it’s too late. The car hits her just as she looks up, but she’s unconscious before she can even feel the pain.

A/N: 🫠

Taglist:

@lukesaprince @intimacywithceline @styleslover-1994

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles ceo #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles fics #harry styles au #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles fanfic rec

[kitashousewife]

winding down

an: this is purely self indulgent but i hope you all love it

pairings: timeskip!sakusa x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, school stress, pet names, lowercase intentional

-

the glow of your laptop against your skin makes you realize how long you’ve been here.

hours of school work, getting you what feels like nowhere at all. the cursor blinks once, twice, three times before you close your tabs and shut your laptop.

it’s time you call it a night.

the autumn sun left hours ago, the warm glow on the walls long gone, now replaced by the cool light of the moon.

you stand slowly, stretching as you begin to move around. the house is quiet, except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant stream of the shower, telling you sakusa is still awake. your eyes close for a moment, allowing yourself a deep breath in and out. it was a long day, but now you can finally begin to wind down.

shutting off the light in the living room, you shuffle towards the front door, locking it with a firm click. you begin the first steps of your routine, starting the dishwasher which sakusa loaded earlier, and wiping down the counters slowly. each swipe of the cloth brings you a little more peace than the last.

turning off the lights in the kitchen, you make your way through the bedroom door. a sleepy smile reaches your lips as you notice your husband has already set out pajamas for you, right on top of your pillow.

as soon as you walk into your shared bathroom, the shower turns off. normally, you would tell sakusa to take as long as you want! but tonight, you deserve a long shower.

reaching for a clean towel, you grab two, and turn around to hand your husband one. he places a kiss on your forehead, and you giggle at the drops of water that fall from his dark hair.

“kiyoomi,” you groan in fake annoyance.

“what? im just speeding up the process, pretty.”

the steam from the previous shower fills your lungs, and with an exhale you let every bad part of the day go. as you go through your shower, sakusa asks you the regular night time questions.

“did you lock the door?”

“did you start the dishwasher?”

“did you remember to plug in your computer?”

every question is answered with a “yes, baby,” by the time you step out of the shower. the bathroom is empty, but not for long. dressed in pajamas of his own, your husband walks towards the vanity to grab his toothbrush. he steps to the side, allowing you room to begin your skin routine.

“you were doing homework for a while,” he asks, the tone of his voice letting you know his concern.

“i didn’t even realize,” you sigh, reaching for your moisturizer. “i’m glad i stopped when i did though.”

he spits in the sink and places his toothbrush back in the holder. raising an eyebrow, he turns to you.

“how come?”

“i got to catch you right out of the shower.”

sakusa rolls his eyes and exits the bathroom quickly in an attempt to hide his pink cheeks, but it doesn’t work.

putting your own tooth brush away, you turn off the last light of the night and walk towards the bed. after putting on your pajamas, you climb into bed and let out a sigh of relief. you plug in your phone and turn to sakusa. phone in hand, scrolling through his team chat, with a very annoyed look on his face.

“anything good today?” you mumble, eyes half open and body feeling just a little bit heavier.

“no, as usual. i don’t get why we have this stupid chat anyway,” he gripes, locking his phone and placing it on his nightstand. before he can set it down, your eyes shoot open.

“wait, your alarm! tomorrow is wednesday, you have early practice.”

he nods and grabs his phone once more. setting his alarm quickly, he puts his phone down and turns to you. pulling you close, sakusa feels much better.

he doesn’t say it out loud, but his embrace tells you how much he missed you tonight.

“hey,” he breathes, softly to not disturb you. you hum.

“i’m really proud of you, you know.” pulling away slightly, you look up at him, at least what you can see in the dark.

“what makes you say that?”

he turns his head to yawn. “you’ve been working so hard this week.”

“it’s only tuesday,” you giggle, running your fingers through his damp hair, before tucking a curl behind his ear.

“so? im proud of you. you work so hard.”

your heart swells. this week has been so busy, and you’ve felt like you can’t keep up. due dates are piling up, readings are becoming harder to keep track of.

“i love you, kiyoomi.” you kiss him, and like always, his lips fit right into yours.

“i love you too.”

as your eyes close, the steady rhythm of his heart is the perfect song to lull you to sleep. sakusa feels relieved. every few minutes tonight, he would look over at you, seated close to him as he studied different film in preparation for this weekend. every time he checked on you, your brows were furrowed, eyes moving quickly as you scan whatever was on your screen. sometimes he would catch you writing something down, or crossing something off of your list. but, as the game he watched ended, you were still working away. he assumed you would stop as soon as you saw him start the dishes, but you didn’t.

he felt a sense of relief when he heard the beginnings of the dishwasher, telling him that he would see you soon.

as your breathing steadies, sakusa feels himself drifting off. he pulls you a little tighter. he knows he isn’t good with words, but he is always trying to make sure you know how proud he is of you.

#sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff #hq fuff #hq x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #sakusa oneshot #sakusa imagine #haikyuu fluff

[adreamareads]

WIP Wednesday

I'm supposed to be in bed already but I thought I'd share a little bit of my current WIP anyway, because why not get people excited?

Thank you for multiple tags on multiple days, @inexplicablymine @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onthewaytosomewhere @xthelastknownsurvivorx @littlemisskittentoes

Paying it forward with tags for... whatever you want to share, on whatever day @cricketnationrise @gayrootvegetable @cha-melodius and ANYONE ELSE WHO WOULD LIKE TO SHARE because it's almost 11pm and I spent 3 hours making a photo collage and my brain doesn't want to work anymore.

Adventure Saturday, coming to an Ao3 near you... eventually. At some point in time.

This is going to be a long one, 13 chapters.

Teaser:

Alex gently sets the mug of steaming Earl Grey on Henry’s nightstand, then crawls back into bed from the other side, still wearing Henry’s hoodie. He starts pressing kisses to Henry’s cheek and his neck, any skin he can reach that’s visible. “Sweetheart,” he whispers with a kiss to Henry’s jaw. “Hey, baby, wake up,” he says, pushing his nose into the crook of Henry’s neck under his ear.  “Mmmh,” Henry says, eyes still closed but one hand groping for Alex. Alex takes his hand, lacing Henry’s fingers with his own. He glances back at the sound of paws on the floor, seeing David lose interest in them and abandon the room. “Alex,” Henry finally manages after more kisses, his voice still hoarse.  “Were you expecting your other boyfriend?” Alex teases, taking a moment to marvel at Henry’s bedhead, which is exceptionally mussed today.  Henry flips over and pulls Alex close to him with one arm. “Cretin,” he mutters. “Love you.” And if that doesn’t sum up their relationship, Alex doesn’t know what does. “There’s tea next to you. Drink it while it’s hot.” “You’re hot,” Henry mumbles back. “Did I say that out loud?” he realizes. “You did,” Alex confirms, holding back a laugh, “but I already knew that, and knew that you think that. I’ll still be hot after you drink your tea, baby.” Henry reluctantly pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches for the mug at his bedside table, a small smile forming on his face as Alex follows suit and tucks himself into Henry’s side. “Thank you, love.” “Do you know what today is?” Alex asks, dropping a kiss on Henry’s shoulder before reaching over to his own nightstand to grab his glasses. Henry squints at the ceiling, cupping the mug in two hands. “Um. Saturday?” he tries. “Adventure Saturday,” Alex adds. “Our plans aren’t until tonight but I thought we would head in early and get a nice dinner.” “Sure,” Henry agrees easily. “Wait, head in where? What’s our adventure?” Alex laughs. “You’re not getting it out of me that easily, but I will say that it is in midtown Manhattan. And dress nicely, but you don’t need a suit or tux or anything. Then again,” he adds, “you pretty much always dress nicely.” “So do you,” Henry says, sipping his tea. “You live in chinos.” “Not anymore,” Alex shrugs. “Not as much since I don’t do as many official appearances and stuff for the presidency. Much happier in jeans. You too; you wear jeans a lot more than you used to. You’re not in suits every day anymore.” “The shelter is hardly the place to wear a suit,” Henry remarks. “They’d laugh me out of the place.” “I’d like to see you in ripped jeans sometime,” Alex says, picturing it. “It’d be hot. And not carefully pressed, like you normally wear.”

#adreama writes #wip wednesday #adventure saturday #rwrb fanfic #first prince #red white and royal blue #rwrb

[antique-traveler]

a thrill that i have never known

so i've been Feeling Bad About Myself lately, so i wrote myself a little something to, like, cope i guess. this was written as a way for me to kind of process/look past the dysphoria i've been having recently, so it might be a little bit hashtag cringe or fail or whatever lol. baby's first ventfic i guess.

if you're trans and reading this and having a bad time like i've been, you're not alone, i know how you feel, you're well worth the space that you take up. it'll be okay <3

[note: reader's transition in this is a representation of what i want for my own transition, and that doesn't look the same for everybody. being transmasc does not require you to cut your hair, or dress a certain way, or go through with any medical procedures. a haircut or lack thereof is not necessary for you to be the gender you are.

also the book i quoted from is one of my all-time favorite books, Johnny Got His Gun by dalton trumbo. it's amazing and if you're at all interested in anti-war novels you should read it asap]

2.9k, T, Matt Murdock x Transmasc!Reader, warnings: needle/injection mention, descriptions of gender dysphoria

You’re not… afraid to tell him, per se. You know Matt, you know what a good heart he has and how slow he is to judge, but you also know that he’s straight. Which… complicates things. 

You’ve been together for nearly seven months now, and you’ve loved every second of it. But four months ago, when you realized that you’re not the woman he’s attracted to, you knew that telling him that would change everything. Each day living as her hurts, though, and you know that your options are either to hate yourself for the rest of this relationship, or be let down easy and continue your life as the man you want to be.

Today is Wednesday, and you decide to come out on Friday when you know he’ll be able to blow off steam as Daredevil after you tell him. You’re both sprawled on his couch, legs in each other’s laps, reading quietly together.

Well, he’s reading, you’re already so nervous that you’ve been stuck on the same page for the last five minutes at least. You start the paragraph again, and try to really focus on the words past the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. “Nobody but the dead know whether all these things people talk about are worth dying for or not. And the dead can't talk.” You chew the inside of your lip and rub the corner of the page between your thumb and forefinger, when suddenly Matt tilts his head at you and takes out the earbud that he’s listening to his audiobook through.

He pokes your arm with this foot and tilts his head. “What’s up?”

Your blood runs cold and you force yourself to stay casual. “The sky.”

“No, come on,” he says seriously, sitting up beside you and putting his earbuds and computer to the side. “You haven’t turned a page in a long time.”

“Well, maybe I just liked the page I’m on so much I wanted to read it a few more times.”

He sighs and gives you a weary look. “You’ve been… off for a few months. Sadder. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Well, there goes all chances of putting off this conversation until Friday. You both know that your heart is slamming against your ribcage and your hands are shaking, and with that knowledge you realize that you have to tell him, and you have to tell him now.

“You know, I actually was planning on telling you on Friday.” You laugh nervously, but Matt stays stone-faced. You clench your hands into fists and dig deep inside you for the courage you need. Maybe Matt will let you borrow some of his. “I– I don’t want this relationship to be over, Matty, but I think once I say this it might be.”

Matt’s brow furrows and he moves closer to you. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not anything bad,” you amend. “It’s just, um, it’s different.” Matt raises his eyebrows and beckons you to continue, and you can feel your pulse throbbing in your throat. “I don’t, um… I’m not a woman. I realized a few months ago that I– I’m trans. I’m a man.”

Matt gapes at you silently and your heart drops. He’s not saying anything, just pinching his eyebrows together as you feel tears start to gather in your eyes.

“I know that you’re straight, Matt,” you say quietly, “and I don’t want to force you to be with someone you’re not attracted to. But I– I can’t keep living as a woman, I can’t do it.” Your voice breaks and you feel hot tears start to rush down your face as Matt stays silent. You sniffle and turn away from Matt’s still form, slipping your feet into your shoes. “I’m gonna go home. I’m sorry.”

You don’t even know if you mean that last part. You know that you shouldn’t be sorry, that every therapist in the world would tell you to never apologize for coming out and trying to be who you are, but the broken, confused look in his eyes is enough to make you feel guilty for something, for anything, for everything. 

You don’t even bother to tie your shoes as you walk out of his apartment.

><><><

The forceful pounding on your door is enough to make you nearly spill your coffee as you pour it into your mug. Somehow your face still feels puffy after all the crying you did once you got home last night, and you really don’t want anyone to see you in just your pajamas right now. You don’t have a binder, and bras have become more and more uncomfortable to wear, so you’re just in a t-shirt and sweatpants, the long hair that you hate and Matt loves falling down your back in a way that makes your skin crawl.

Whoever it is knocks again, so strongly that you’re almost surprised your door doesn’t splinter into a million pieces right then and there, and you force yourself to go and answer it. Slowly, you open the door and see Matt, hair a mess, tie askew, and face looking stricken without his glasses to hide his eyes. You swallow hard and curl the hand that isn’t still resting on the doorknob into a tight fist.

“Hey, Matt,” you say quietly, waiting for the painfully gentle letdown you know is coming.

“Hey,” he replies, clearly nervous.

Neither of you says anything after that, and eventually you just step aside and let him walk past you into your kitchen.

“Coffee?” you ask, adding cream and sugar to your own mug.

“No, I– I want to talk.”

Of course he does. You sigh and take a long gulp of coffee even though it’s still a bit too hot and try to calm your nervous heart. “Okay, let’s talk.”

“What’s your name?” he asks, and you silently commend him for such a strong starting question. You tell him, and he quietly repeats it back to himself. You’re rather proud of your name, to be honest. You’d thought long and hard about it and you think it suits your personality, something which not many cis people can say.

“Why–” he clears his throat, “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Woof. What a question. You set your mug down and rest both your hands on the counter. “I… I wanted to hold onto us, Matt. The longer I stayed in the closet, the longer I could keep on being with you. And obviously that’s not all of it, for a while there was a certain amount of doubt and thinking about what I want going forward, but eventually it just became… not wanting to let you go.”

Matt nods thoughtfully. “What do you want going forward?”

And there’s the million-dollar question, the one that’ll cost you thousands of dollars and half of your relatives. “The whole nine yards,” you laugh nervously. “I’m getting my hair cut next week, for starters, and I’ve saved up some money for new clothes. And I want to go on hormones and get my, um… breasts removed.”

Matt is quiet for a moment before he simply says, “Okay.”

“O… kay?” You can’t for the life of you figure out what that’s supposed to mean.

“If that’s what you want,” he says firmly, walking towards you, “then okay, we can do that.”

“We?” you feel a little stupid for just parroting him again, but you’re too confused to linger on that.

“I love you,” he says as he grabs your hands, and you feel a shiver run up your spine, “all of you. And if that means I’m not straight, then I guess I’m not straight.”

You feel the prick of tears in your eyes again and you bite your lip. “Okay,” you whisper.

Matt rests a hand at your jaw and strokes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away the wetness there. “I’m not gonna stop loving you,” he says, and something in you melts.

You breathe out shakily and he wraps his arms around you, cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his neck. He holds you tight and solid and you squeeze back, feeling the happiness and relief and hope buzz through your body all the way to your fingertips, and you’re lightheaded with the feel of him.

><><><

Three weeks later, one of Matt’s clients is throwing a party to thank him and Foggy for saving their restaurant, and Matt has suavely asked you to be his plus one. Matt will be at your place any minute to pick you up, but you still can’t tear your eyes away from the mirror. 

Your reflection isn’t perfect, there’s still so much that you can’t spare more than a glance without getting angry, but you’re slowly making your way towards looking like yourself. The cut of your pants combined with the small floral pattern on your dress shirt hides the curve of your hips well, and the short crop of your new haircut is square and strong. Your frame looks completely different with your binder, and you can’t stop running your hands over your chest. Even the shape of your new leather shoes makes you strangely giddy. 

After God knows how long, you hear Matt knock on the door, and rush out of your room to meet him.

“Hey,” you smile as you open the door, and it’s reflected on his face. 

“Hey,” he leans in for a kiss and runs a hand down your arm. When he pulls away, he moves his hand into your hair, carding his fingers through the short locs on top before tracing them over the sides and back where the barber’s clippers had shaved it close to your scalp. He smiles again as he feels your hair, and warmth floods your cheeks.

“I cut it two weeks ago,” you laugh, “you don’t have to act so surprised by it every time you see me.”

“Well, excuse me for appreciating your hair,” he says dryly, but the smile still hasn’t left his face. He kisses you again, resting a hand on your chest– he says he likes how you feel in your binder– before you pull back again.

“Are you just gonna keep making out with me or are we actually gonna go to the party being thrown for you?”

“You know, when you put it like that…” he tilts his head from side to side, pretending to weigh his options, and you push him out into the hallway and close the door behind you.

The party is warm and bright as you enter, and Foggy starts (badly) singing ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man when he greets you by the bar. Matt squeezes your elbow as you blush, and you gladly accept the beer that Foggy hands you.

Each time Matt introduces you to someone, the restaurant owners or their children or the accountant, they ask if you’re his girlfriend, and each time Matt puts on a serious smile and says, “No, this is my boyfriend.”

All in all, it’s a pretty good night.

><><><

Your used needle makes a light clattering sound as you drop it into the sharps container in Matt’s– no, your bathroom, and the sound never fails to make you happy. You place a tacky Spongebob Band-Aid over the injection site on your thigh and reverently put your vial of testosterone back in the medicine cabinet above the sink. It feels slightly juvenile, but you take a moment to examine your reflection anyway. You’ve only been on T for a few months now, but your jaw is already starting to square out, and your eyebrows have gotten much thicker. You’re eternally grateful that you haven’t gotten much acne (at least, not yet), and you’ve already noticed changes in the way your body holds fat and muscle. 

It feels like watching one of those timelapse videos of seeds growing into fruit trees; each passing day, each injection and each time a stranger calls you “he” on the first try feels like you’ve just sprouted a new leaf, grown a new branch, stretched higher and higher into the sky as you grow into a strong oak tree.

Matt thinks your metaphors are a bit too florid, but you say he’s just lacking in imagination.

You walk into the kitchen that you and Matt share now in just your boxers and binder as he fills your favorite Star Trek mug with coffee. You lean back against the counter beside him and smile into the chaste kiss he gives you as he hands you your coffee. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and makes a face.

“What?” you ask, taking a brief sip of your coffee and finding it still too hot.

Matt blushes slightly. “You, uh, you smell different,” he laughs.

“Shit, did I forget to put on deodorant–?”

“No, no, it’s not bad,” he says, still smiling. “Just, your baseline scent has changed since you started T. It’s… richer?”

“I’m gonna choose to interpret that as a compliment,” you decide, “so thank you.”

“It was, and you’re welcome.”

“The many benefits of having a superhero boyfriend,” you muse. “Who else would be able to compliment me on my rich scent?”

Your voice breaks loudly on the last word and your eyes go wide. You raise a hand to your throat and laugh shyly.

“Aw, your voice is changing,” Matt coos condescendingly. “Is it time for me to give you the talk? You know, your body’s going through a lot of changes–”

You punch him lightly in the arm, and he rubs at it overdramatically while he mouths an exaggerated “ow”. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, “you’re the worst.”

Matt sighs wearily. “Ugh, puberty’s making you so moody.” He clearly means for it to be sarcastic and dry, but his smile breaks through on the last word. You just take another sip of your coffee and prepare yourself for how much he’s going to tease you for your voice breaking in the coming months.

><><><

The air in your bedroom is cool and you can hear the elderly couple above you loudly playing Etta James on their old record player. Matt’s lying beside you with a contented smile on his face while he rubs his thumb over your cheek and jaw.  “And here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last,” Etta croons from upstairs, and you smile against Matt’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re growing it out,” Matt says from the pillow next to you as his thumb grazes over your stubble again. “I think a beard suits you.”

“Me, too,” you hum. “Or maybe I just want to match with you.”

“Copying my look? That’s low.” You both laugh and Matt leans in to kiss you long and slow. Matt’s hand rests on your neck and the low hums that you make into the kiss rumble through both of your bodies. 

Before you know it, you’re lying on your back with Matt crouched over you, running his hands along your bare arms and shoulders. You don’t have the superhero physique that Matt does, but the ease with which you build muscle now is shown by the new breadth of your shoulders. Matt’s hands roam over to your chest and his fingers dance across the clean, even scars on your chest. You don’t have much sensation there, even six months after your top surgery, but feeling Matt’s touch there is enough to fill you with warmth.

Matt pulls away from your lips and kisses the stubble on your cheek, the angle of your jaw, your Adam’s apple, the crest of your shoulder, your well-healed scars, and your face burns hot with each kiss. He rests a hand on your cheek and smiles at you.

“I don’t think I ever said it,” he whispers, “but thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh, and, even after being on testosterone for a year and a half, the low rumble of your laugh still fills you with pride.

Matt smiles like the answer is obvious. “For coming out. I’m so happy I got to know this you.” He runs his thumb over your stubble for the dozenth time that night, and the only reaction you can seem to form is a shy laugh.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “I know we were both… uncertain about how everything would continue once you started your transition. I… was afraid that I’d promised you something I couldn’t go through with; I thought I was straight and I didn’t know how long everything would last. But I just… God, I feel so lucky to know you.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat, and all you can say is, “Matty…”

“I love your voice,” he says, seemingly out of nowhere, “and I love your hair and your chest and your beard. Fuck, this is so sappy, but thank you for letting me learn that I love all of this.”

Shit, what words are there to respond to that? Your eyes feel hot and wet, and you grab Matt’s cheeks to pull him into another kiss. 

You remember that scared boy you had been two years ago the night you came out, and you feel him somewhere inside the man you are now, marveling at who you’ve become. Back then you’d thought that the best case scenario was for Matt to tell you sadly that he was straight and break your heart as gently as he could. But now your beard scratches against Matt’s as he kisses you, and he’s running his hands along your flat chest, and your voice as you moan into the kiss is deep and low, and hidden in your half of the closet is a ring box you carry around everywhere you go, waiting for the perfect moment, and you think:

God, this is what my life was always supposed to be.

#my fic #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #male reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #nmcu #netflix daredevil #daredevil fanfiction

[mindofharry]

In which bucky and you are hooking up and he doesn’t appreciate you until you’re gone.

angst!! so much angst!! swearing, bucky saying stuff he doesn’t mean and a whole lot of crying. feedback is welcome as always <3

roughly based around the time the falcon and the winter soldier meet up again :D enjoy, lovers!

losing you masterlist.

You met Bucky just after he moved into the apartment block. He looked pretty lost and you, being you, decided to lend a helping hand and help out a neighbour.

You did not expect him to end up in your bed the next morning.

It was unexpected and kind of childish, but he made your heart pound and your lips to as red as a cherry. Bucky barnes had you wrapped around his finger before he even knew your name, he just had that kind of charisma. You wanted to be around him all the time, be more than just the causal hook up. Not just someone he calls when he needs to let off steam. You want to be it for him. Bucky is unpredictable and stubborn, but you were sure you could fix him or at least help him onto a better path.

He just wouldn’t let you in.

You’d have sex, and then he’d kick you out. He wouldn’t even let you stay the night. Which at first you didn’t really care about as he would always greet you with a smile and walk you to the local bar. Bucky would have actual conversations with you, that was only for a week. The sex got more hot, more steamy and a lot more fucking rough. He didn’t greet you in the morning, not even a smile and he most definitely didn’t walk you to the bar anymore. He said it was a waste of his time.

You’re a confident person, you don’t usually let people like bucky barnes hurt you this much.

But he was so much more than a hook up to you, you loved him.

It was wednesday, so that means when bucky is done with his lunch he’d text and you’d meet him at his apartment. That’s what happens every wednesday and you never question it. Why would you? A strapping man like bucky wants you in some way. You’re not going to let it go because you have feelings for him.

It might be a little selfish, but you loved him too much.

You made yourself something to eat and watched some downtown abbey to calm yourself down. Bucky liked it when you were chill and not your usual bubbly self. You’ve changed yourself completely for this man. You hope it’s all worth it in the end.

After eating and relaxing for a bit, you decide to shower and get ready for buckys. You want to look nice, show him what he’s missing.

You wash your body with multiple shower gels, and decide to shave your legs - which really, you didn’t want to it’s a lot of effort and you’re just not in the mood today. But if bucky likes it, you’ll do it.

He mentioned once while you were in bed that he loved how smooth your legs are. So you shaved them before every hook up.

“You’re amazing” You reminded yourself, putting on your mascara. The make up will only come off, but again you want to make a good and lasting impression on him. You never used to wear makeup, just a bit a blusher and the occasional gloss. But bucky likes it. It’s always about what bucky likes and dislikes. Your mother would be so disappointed in you.

You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts and walk into your room. This time you pick something you want to wear. Opening up your closet you pull out your flowery, summery, dress that got at a marker in spain. Your family flew there and spent the summer in a nice little villa. It was the only bit of a peace you felt. When you came home, it felt like everything you left behind came crashing down.

Maybe that’s why you depend so much on bucky. You never wanted to be that person, but bucky makes it so hard. And you’re definitely not blaming him for you becoming so attached, you’re definitely the one to blame. But bucky is just, he’s just this great guy.

Or at least he was.

You get it, he lost a lot of people in the blip and after the blip. You lost people too. But it obviously affected him more, so you’re cutting him some slack.

Even if he doesn’t really deserve it.

After getting dressed and making yourself look some what presentable you text bucky to let him know you’re on the way to his apartment - it was only a 30 second walk, but you know he liked his privacy, so you warn him each time.

There was no response. As per usual, you thought rolling your eyes. You strolled down to his apartment taking your time, the weather looked nice enough. Maybe you’ll go for a walk after this, you know you won’t be staying long in buckys home.

You knock on the door, looking down at your phone. Still no messages. Now this, was surprising. Even if he didn’t text he’d always let you know in some way if he couldn’t make it. Bucky may be a dick, but he’d never leave you waiting.

You wait outside for a minute and contemplate leaving, but your hear footsteps walking towards you. You look over and see the man you love.

Bucky Barnes.

And he did not look happy. Angry, frustrated and confused maybe, but not happy. Usually he’s in a good mood after meeting up with his little friend for lunch. Did something happen? You don’t want to pressure him, but you need him to know you’re always there for him.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when bucky stepped infront of you, his eyebrows furrowed and scowl on his face.

“What are you doing here?” He asked fishing out his keys. You start to get annoyed, this man is really testing you. But you push that feeling down and put a smile on your face, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bucky shrugged it off, the smile fell off your face. Bucky noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m busy today” He said putting the key into the door, trying to open it. He obviously put the wrong one in, frustrating him even more.

“We always meet up on wednesdays, and i did text you. But you never replied so i just assumed” You said, messing with the hem of your dress.

You wish he’d compliment you.

“Well you assumed wrong and i need you to leave. Got a date tonight” He said finally opening up his door. Your heart broke, it actually felt like it shattered into a million different piece. A date? With another person? Fuck, you didn’t think this far ahead. You thought that one day he would just realise. That it’s been you, you’re the one he wants. But obviously you were wrong.

You were wrong about a lot of fucking things.

But you put a brave face on and walked into his apartment, closing the door behind you. Again, you didn’t want to intrude but you needed to know how serious this date is. You need to know if this is the end of you and bucky.

Bucky sighed as he saw you standing in his hallway, he looked exasperated. Like you were a chore he forgot about or had been putting off. He looked at you like you were exhausting. Maybe you are. You should’ve never agreed to this hook up, friends with benefits shit. It always ends badly.

“Y/N, i said you need to leave” Bucky said placing a hand over his eyes. You nodded and instead of leaving you sat beside him. Bucky looked over at you and you’ve never seen him angrier.

“Are you deaf?” he asked and you flinched at his tone. “I have a date, and i need you to get the fuck out of my house” Bucky said and you sighed standing up.

“You’re an asshole” You mumbled and bucky stood up as well.

“You don’t say that when i’m balls deep in you” He replied, placing a hand on your cheek. He wasn’t rough when he grabbed you, but it did scare you a bit.

“This was just sex Y/N. Nothing more. You’re not my type, you’re too exhausting and tiring for me. I’m not interested in that sort of shit. Get the hell out of my home” Bucky said sternly letting go of your face. You searched his eyes for any sign of remorse or guilt, but nothing. He looked proud of himself really.

You sighed to yourself and wiped under your eyes. This is it. Fuck, ok don’t cry Y/N.

“I hope you enjoy your date” You said walking past him.

“Oh, I will” he smirked, watching as you left his apartment. You held back a sob as you ran to your apartment, ignoring on the stares and pitiful looks. You needed to leave the place.

You called your mom and told her the whole story and surprisingly she wasn’t disappointed.

“I could never be disappointed in you, baby. look at you, you’re amazing” Your mom said making you giggle. “That man doesn’t know what he just lost. a great friend is one of them. Now, men aren’t something you should be crying over. Go get yourself freshened up and then relax. You deserve it, honey” She said and you nodded to yourself, sitting up on your bed.

The tears were almost instant. Your mother hated to hear you cry. She lived so far away, and you just needed her hugging and cooking to make all of this pain go away. Heartbreaks are normal, their natural and everyone goes through it. It just hurts even more when the person you love the most doesn’t love you back.

“I love him” You admitted and your mom sighed. You could tell that she hated this too. “I met him when he was kind to me, he would walk me to the bar sometimes work too” You said and tried to stop the tears, but they just kept coming. “He was sweet. He would cuddle with me and not throw me out of his home. And he would listen, he would listen to anything i had to say” You sobbed.

“What did i do wrong? What did i do to make him hate me, mom?”

Your mother let out a pained sound. She just wanted to hug you and tell you everything would be ok.

“You did absolutely nothing wrong. This is all on him, honey. He didn’t appreciate what he had. He took advantage of your kindness and love towards him. You did nothing wrong. Never blame yourself for something like this.” She said quickly and groaned.

“I’ve gotta go” You said, and before your mom could get a word in you hung up and threw your phone against the wall.

Another thing to get fixed.

You did actually have work; but you decided you would get anything productive done. So giving yourself the day off would be good. Sit around, pig out and do not think of bucky barnes.

That lasted all of 5 minutes.

You’re now watching the notebook and didn’t get through 5 minutes of it without thinking of bucky. It’s not like you guys did actual couple things. Why are you so upset? Because you loved him, you idiot.

And now you have to get over him. If he was going on dates, you would too. If he was sleeping with other people, you would too. It’s time bucky barnes got a taste of his own medicine.

A week went by where you through yourself back into work and focused on catching up with old friends. During the day you didn’t think once about bucky, but when you got home that’s when the sob fests start. You’re pretty sure your neighbours can hear you, you feel a little bad.

Wednesday came and you didn’t once check your phone - one because it was smashed and you could barley see the screen, and two because you’re not going to be that girl anymore. You’re come to terms with the fact that bucky wasn’t for you, and although your heart is still very, very broken.

You’re doing better. You’re getting there.

On the other side of the apartment block, bucky barnes was not getting there or doing ok. You hadn’t texted him in a over a week, that’s a new record for you. Usually you send him memes or little reminders randomly. But there’s nothing, he’s been staring at his phone screen for far too long waiting for you to text.

He sighed and began typing.

‘ Hey, it’s bucky. Wondering if we’re still on for tonight? X ‘

He sent it and then put his phone down, turning on his tv. The date he went on was a bust. The girl wasn’t you, he figured that out pretty quickly. It’s not the girl wasn’t good looking or anything and she was nice enough, he just couldn’t stop comparing her to you. Y/N wouldn’t get the drink or Y/N wouldn’t sit that far away, or Y/N wouldn’t totally flipped that jackass off. He left abruptly in the middle of the date because he couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t handle not being with you, and that, to him was a problem. Bucky hadn’t been this dependent on a person since steve.

And steve left.

Bucky was just protecting himself, but while he was doing that - he hurt you. Immensely. He put you through so much pain in after this relationship. It was barley even a relationship, but it hurt just as much.

10 minutes went by, and there was still no response. You didn’t even read the message. Now he knows how you feel. Instead of waiting a little longer, bucky decided to just go to your apartment instead. He strolled down the hall and knocked on your door. Your neighbour came out of his home. Bucky nodded his way, the man only tutted at him.

“Poor girl” The man mumbled walking away leaving bucky confused. He shook it off and knocked again, this time you finally answered. You looked beautiful. You were wearing a tight, red dress showing all of your curves off you hair was straightened and you weren’t wearing any make up - you still looked behind beautiful.

“Bucky....” you said with furrowed brows.

“I texted but there was no reply” He said walking into your apartment and taking off his jacket. He grinned and put his hands on your hips. You were even more confused, did he just forget about last week? What he said to you?

“Did you get dressed up all for me?” He asked you cleared your throat moving back so his hands would fall off you, bucky looked at you with a scowl.

“What’s up?” he asked moving his hands to your cheeks, you remembered how he grabbed you the last time and you flinched. Bucky froze for a second and dropped his arms to his side. Something was obviously wrong.

“I’m going on a date, bucky” You said and buckys world stopped for a second. A date? With who? This can not be happening.

“Whatever we have going on, it’s done. So i don’t know why you’re here” You said walking into your room to finish getting ready, you needed to find your black heels.

You met this guy at work, and you really hit it off. So when he asked for a date, you didn’t hesitate. You were putting you first, like you should’ve been doing all along.

“Done?” Bucky asked following you, you nodded and shrugged your shoulders. “You made it pretty clear last week” You said and bucky sighed rolling his eyes. “So this is about the date?” He said and you didn’t reply.

“It’s about what you said to to me, bucky. You’re selfish and mean. And i deserve better”

Bucky sat down on the end of your bed beside you. He knew what he was doing, you were an easy lay. Bucky hates himself for breaking your heart, god knows he broke his own letting you go and saying those awful words to you. You do deserve better.

“So with that being said, i think it’s time for you to leave”

And this time, it was you kicking bucky out of your bed.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #bucky barnes concept #bucky barnes headcannon #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x oc

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 26}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta awoke with a pounding headache and the need to vomit, even though she was fully aware her stomach was completely emptied out. She began to shift on the mattress, but froze when she realized that a heavy arm was draped across her waist.

Behind her, Cassian was sleeping soundly, spooned up against her.

Stay.

She remembered asking that of him the night before, remembered everything from the night before.

She had been drunk, horribly drunk.

They had fought.

She had tried to sleep with him.

She had vomited all over the kitchen.

He had cleaned it up.

He had cleaned her up.

He had carried her to bed.

He had stayed.

She hadn’t deserved for him to stay.

Carefully and slowly, Nesta took Cassian’s hand and removed it from her body before dragging herself quietly out of the bed and sneaking out of the room.

She had been so fucking irresponsible the night before, shouldn’t have ever tried to drive here, yet here she was. No wonder Cassian had been so pissed.

She planned on getting a quick cup of coffee to settle her stomach and sneaking out, but as she found Elain in the kitchen, she knew that was no longer possible.

Her sister, never one for anger, raised an eyebrow. “You owe me for my landscaping.”

Nesta cringed and dropped into a seat at the end of the table. Her head fell into her hands with a smack. “I know, I’m sorry.”

A cup of coffee appeared in front of her and Nesta did nothing but breathe in the life-changing scent for a minute, her forehead still pressed into her hand.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Elain said, leaning against the counter. “I love having you here. But as far as I knew, Cassian was staying here because you were at the house. Imagine my surprise when I find both of your vehicles in my driveway this morning.”

Nesta cringed, yet again.

“And the bush by my mailbox flattened,” Elain added, sipping from her steaming mug.

Nesta groaned, her head falling against the tabletop. “I fucked up, I get it.” There was no malice in her voice, only exhaustion.

The chair across from her was pulled out and Elain sat down with a sigh. “You know I’m not letting you leave until we talk about this, right?”

Nesta huffed. “Talk about what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Elain sighed. “The fact that you showed up at my house at midnight, drunker than you’ve been since college, to fight with Cassian?”

Nesta looked up at her.

“At least, that’s my husband’s version,” Elain said, watching her sister. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Nesta leaned back in her chair and shook her head, slowly. She fiddled with the fabric around her thighs, only now realizing that she was in Cassian’s shirt.

He had taken her dirty dress off and replaced it with something clean, something of his.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Nesta said, simply.

“How about promising me you’ll never be stupid enough to get behind the wheel while drunk again?” Elain asked, a slight edge to her voice. “The last thing I need is you getting in an-.”

Her words dropped off and she shook her head, sipping from her mug to avoid the word that Nesta knew was meant to come next.

Accident.

A newfound guilt flooded Nesta’s stomach. She felt like she was going to puke all over again. How could she do that, after all that had happened? After what had happened to Feyre and Rhysand?

“I fucked up,” she said, again, and leaned across the table to take Elain’s hand. “I was drunk, I made a poor decision in the heat of the moment because I was pissed, and I was irresponsible. I know that, and trust me, I am full of regret and feel like a fucking idiot this morning. I promise, Lainy, that I’ll never make that mistake again.”

Elain looked at her for a moment before her eyes softened and she nodded. “Good. I believe you. Now, care to tell me why you made such a dumbass decision to begin with?”

Dumbass. Elain rarely swore.

“Cassian and I had sex in the store room last night,” she sighed, not looking at Elain.

“You what?” Her voice raised an octave.

“Shh,” she said, glancing around her to the living room beyond. “I don’t know how exactly it happened, but it did. I went in there for some air, he followed me, and we got into it. Next thing I know, my back is against the far wall, he’s buried inside of me, and I’m halfway to an earth shattering orgasm.”

Elain had stilled, her mug midway to her lips as she stared at her sister. She repeated, “You what?”

“I don’t need a lecture if that’s what you’re building up to,” Nesta snapped.

Elain sighed, setting her mug down on the table. “It’s either a lecture or silence.”

Nesta just shook her head.

“Nesta, that man is madly in love with you,” Elain said, lecturing, anyway. Nesta stared at the table. “And you love him, too. This…unhealthy need to push everything and everyone away that makes you happy is going to make you nothing but miserable in the end and, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you be miserable.”

Nesta shook her head. “Feyre wouldn’t want—.”

“No,” Elain interrupted, her voice going harder than Nesta typically heard it. “Feyre would want you to be happy. She’s gone, Nesta.” Her eyes lined with tears as she reached across the table and took Nesta’s hands. “She’s gone, and yes, maybe that’s the only reason that you and Cassian ended up together, but you know what? Maybe it’s not. Maybe you and Cass would’ve ended up together at another time, another place, but you didn’t. This is how it happened. And Feyre, wherever she is, is so damn happy that you two are happy. She wanted you two to be together five years ago, and she wants you to be together now, if he’s who makes you happy. You can’t feel guilty, Nesta. Your happiness does not deserve guilt.”

Nesta said nothing, didn’t bother wiping the tear that fell down her cheek.

“You love him,” Elain said, and it wasn’t a question.

Which meant that Nesta didn’t answer.

“He cleaned up your puke and carried you to bed after you treated him like garbage,” Elain said, her voice lightening. “Men like that don’t just come around, Nes.”

A door opened and closed from the back of the house and Elain picked up her coffee, standing.

“Where are you going?” Nesta whispered, her eyes going wide.

“You need to talk to him,” Elain said, heading for the living room. She didn’t say another word to her sister, but she heard her start up the stairs. “Good morning, Cass. And good morning to you, sweet boy.”

She didn’t hear a response from either of them, so she assumed Nyx was still dozing on Cassian’s shoulder, but Elain’s soft footsteps retreated up the stairs.

“Morning.”

She turned to find Cassian leaning against the doorway. Nyx, indeed, was still near sleeping where he had his head resting against Cassian, holding onto his shirt.

Clutching her coffee cup, Nesta breathed, “Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, walking to the fridge and opening the door, pulling out a jug of orange juice.

“Honestly?” she muttered. “Shitty.”

Cassian snorted. “I’d say so.”

Silence ensued, and Cassian kissed Nyx’s forehead as he handed him to Nesta. “I’ll get him some breakfast.”

Nesta nodded, taking the sleepy baby and letting his head fall against her chest.

Cassian got oatmeal out of the pantry and mixed it with some milk before cutting strawberries into small squares. The entire time, Nesta watched him. The entire time, Cassian didn’t say a thing.

She could see the way his back muscles flexed through his old, white t-shirt.

It made her weak in the knees.

“Dada,” Nyx said, arm outstretched to Cassian.

“Almost ready, buddy,” he promised.

As Cassian walked toward the table, Nesta put Nyx in the highchair. She’d move him once Seph was awake and ready to eat. She had a feeling Nyx would be finished long before that, though, because the second Cassian sat the bowl on the tray, Nyx’s hands were covered in oatmeal.

Cassian chuckled and retreated back away from the table.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Cass?”

“Hmmm?”

“I-,” she hesitated, and sighed. “Thank you. For last night. I’m… I’m sorry, I was completely out of line-.”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“It’s not fine.” He still hadn’t turned back to look at her. “It’s not, at all. What I did last night was stupid and irresponsible and selfish. And you took care of me and I didn’t deserve it. So… Thank you and I’m sorry.”

He was quiet for another minute, pouring a cup of coffee alongside his juice. “You’re welcome. Like I said, it’s fine. It happened, you recognize it was a dumbass decision to make. Just don’t make it again.”

She nodded, though he still couldn’t see her, since he still had his back to her.

Nesta asked, “Can we… Can we talk about last night?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about, Nes,” he sighed, finally turning to look at her. He leaned back against the counter. “Before or after you showed up drunk?”

“Both,” she stood up and crossed the kitchen toward him. She suddenly remembered she was wearing nothing but his t-shirt. “Like I said, I was way out of line.”

Cassian watched her for a moment before letting out a breath, his shoulders sagging. “Yeah, well… The store room was just as much me as it was you, so don’t apologize for that one.”

Nesta nodded, and looked over at Nyx, stuffing his face. “Do you regret it?”

A beat passed. “The store room?”

She nodded.

Cassian drank from his glass. “Do you?”

I asked you first, she wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, she said, “It was unprofessional.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said.

“Neither is refusing to answer the question at all,” Nesta pointed out.

Cassian snorted. “Fair.”

They fell into silence, yet again, the only sounds coming from Nyx and his excitement about food.

“Is that all you have to say this morning?” Cassian asked, and she knew he was looking at her, so her eyes remained on the floor.

“I apologized,” she said. “I thanked you. What else is there to say?”

Cassian nodded, apparently that was answer enough for him. “Alright, well, Viv is planning on meeting you and Nyx back at the house at noon. I’ll see you at work.”

He turned his back to her and started walking out of the kitchen.

“Wait,” Nesta breathed, making her way toward him. “There is one more thing I’d like to say, like to ask.”

Cassian stopped and slowly turned to face her.

It was all too familiar. Him, in his sweatpants and old tee. Her, in his shirt, after a night spent cuddled up together.

Even if the night before had been under completely different circumstances.

She cleared her throat. “I think you should come back home, Cass.”

He searched her eyes, searched for the underlying meaning. “Why?”

“Because Nyx misses you,” Nesta said, without missing a beat. “He misses seeing you everyday.”

“Is he the only one?” Cassian asked, taking a step toward her.

“Cassian,” she breathed, shaking her head.

He nodded, slowly, taking a deep breath. “That’s what I thought.”

He turned around, but Nesta reached out for him. “Cassian, please, just come back-.”

“I can’t,” he said, quietly. “I can’t be there, every day, seeing you, and not being able to do something as simple as give you a hug, Nes. I can’t be there and pretend like things are fine, and that I’m not completely miserable. I can’t. I can’t do that. I’m not ready for that.”

The brush of her fingers against his arm felt like a brand and it took everything in him not to rip it from her grasp.

“I’m going to get ready,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I’ll see you at work. Viv will be there at noon to watch him.”

Her fingers fell away as he stepped out of reach and walked back through the living room and down the hall. As always, he never slammed the door. He never let his anger get the best of him. She heard it shut with a soft click.

“Mama?”

Nesta whirled, her eyes falling on Nyx. He was a sticky mess, oatmeal and smashed strawberries all over his hands and cheeks, but he was looking right at her. “Mama,” he repeated, holding out the empty bowl for her. As if he was saying, all done.

She gave him the best smile she could muster, before crossing the room and taking the bowl from him. “Thank you, sweet boy.”

A few minutes later, she’d left the bowl soaking in the sink, had wiped him down as best she could and had nabbed a pair of leggings from Elain’s clean laundry. She didn’t want to have to interrupt Cassian to ask about her dirty dress.

Without another word to anyone, she packed Nyx up in the car and was gone, heading for home. A few minutes later, she pulled in the driveway, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that something was missing.

Without that stupid truck parked next to her car, it didn’t feel quite like home. Going inside and not finding a game on the TV, or the smell of bacon cooking this early, it didn’t feel like home.

Without Cassian there, nothing did.

And she knew she was the only one to blame.

#snacmc lawki #life as we know it #snacmc collab #snelbz tacmc collab #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[thetistaboveall]

Disassociating Away # 1

Eric

Eric Codwell ever the adventurous one came face to with a near death experience before me.

I manage to pul him out of the road in quick enough time as he praises my reflexes with a pat on the back.

He rises to his feet standing tall with a very grateful smile as he flips the diamond in his hand.

I laugh watching it slipping through his hand when the light hits it shining into his eyes.

I crack up as he squints so I take liking to it flashing it in his face, and his strong face goes slack.

I pat his should guiding his eyes to mine as he falls into a deep sleep, and I begin to have my way with him.

Tom

Eric awakens with a simple fast snap of my fingers springs his consciousness to the low levels.

His eyes pop open stripping himself of his clothes, opening his closet he returns to the same spot.

“So? What do you think?“ his new persona takes shape in his body dazzling me of my work.

“You look great Eric! Good job!” I say finally annoying him a bit.

“Master Lawrence!” He says turning to face me with slight twist of his body over the chair.

“I am Tom Master” he says with such a sharp disappointment in his voice.

Paul

I wake up on Wednesday in my bedroom to see Eric waltzing in a boxer and bathrobe.

He stops showing off his body with sexy ass smile on his face a hot flash of a smile.

His body is glistening with sweat on his hot and bothered body leaving me in heat.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask him in a bit of confusing forgetting the day before.

“Master! Let me present myself to you my love.” Paul adds removing his robe.

“I am Paul Louis” he poses one knee laid on the bed, one arm holding a pole, and he is all mine.

James

James Jimmy Wells brushes in from the cold dead winter night fully dress in sweats and a winter coat.

“Oh Master! You are awake, I am so glad” I can hear James cheer.

In excitement he rushes to my side with utter delight and love a hug closing in on me.

“This is James right? My love” I question him a bit.

“Yes, it’s James” he says sweetly kissing my neck, he breathes in my ears, and kiss.

“Oh baby!” He leans in for sweet kisses are all abound.

Jake

Jake Michaels is calm alternate personality in that body, he still so well built in the light.

“Why do you need all do us Master?“ Jake is worrying about not being enough.

“I love alters, always have and always will” I I say hugging him by his back and ensuring him of his place.

He sits down placing my cup of coffee for me, he is so sweet attending to my every moment.

“All I want to do is serve you, I love you” he adds giving me a back rub.

“Oh feels so good” I exclaim with a gasp as he rubs me up and inhales my scent.

Michael

Michael Moon is the serious hardworking guy a true alter to support me financially in all ways.

It is eight am in the morning after I get out of bed and command him to get ready.

The sheer heat I feel embrace my body with his contact go my skin pulling me aside.

I pin him to the wall laying on top of his body and our lips touch.

We make out heavily like crazy with all the love in the world, and he worships me.

We enter the shower the steam alone raises towards the ceiling of the room.

Allen

That late night Allen Marks waltzes out of the shower, a towel over his waist he blows me a kiss.

“Hey babe, I missed you”

“Did you Allen?”

“Of course, you memorized us?”

“How could I not?”

“So you are so kind”

William

William Len is the artist living in the body of my male slave so damn appealing and sexy.

He grabbles my waist in his hand the radio waves hit the room as he swoons.

We dance humping, groping, smashing and smudging the place up.

The music stops as he stands still the cute, biggest and brightest smile in the world.

Such a hottie leaning in for a kiss it felt so unreal and I knew I need to come down from that high.

“Would you please marry me?” William ask me kneeling on the floor.

Kyle

Kyle Amber is next to service as I arrive back at home, and he is awaiting me.

He hugs me tightly planting a kiss on my cheek and swings me in his arms.

“I know, what he asked you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you marry him?”

“I would marry all of you if I did”

Blake

Blake on the other hand is a wild dresser in a heat always.

He sits across from me elbows on table and my head in his head.

He is swooning as he is madly in love with me the man of all my dreams.

“Do you love me Master? I love you and we all do.”

“Do you really?”

“We all do, yes babe”

The end

[shoutogepi]

Taking Care of Their Drunk S/O After a Girls’ Night Out

with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou 

genre : [ ☀︎ ]  fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~

hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?

author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!

bakugou:

first of all, blasty is annoyed that you’re going out and ditching his elderly ass at home. it’s a wednesday night so who in their right mind would be going to the club?? sure it’s your close friend’s birthday but they couldn’t just push the celebration to the weekend like a normal person?

sure you have work tomorrow but you’re young enough and it’s your friend’s birthday, they just went through a breakup so you just wanna be there for them, physically and emotionally. and bakugou gets that, but he’s still gonna be crabby about it cuz he usually drags you into bed at like ten pm.

more importantly, he likes to have you tucked up in his arms, nose in your hair and tbh your ass on his crotch. it’s just so much easier to fall asleep knowing you’re safe and there with him, and even though he complains about it, the sound of your gentle snores really lull him into slumber.

therefore he has a hard time falling asleep just because you’re not with him, but then the fact that he’s in his large bed and you’re out and about, looking killer in that sexy clubbing number... he’s gnashing his teeth and twisting in the sheets no doubt. knowing you’re most likely very far from sober doesn't really help either. and just thinking of all the creeps that’re probably eyeing up every inch of skin, every curve hugged perfectly by that black sleek dress he usually loves but really despises right now… ugh, he just can’t sleep with his blood boiling like this.

so of course he’s still awake, very agitated may i add, when scratching noises at the door start at two thirty in the morning.

you’re pathetically attempting to open the front door, but the key to the apartment is almost identical to the lobby key and then… the elevator key is there too and oh my goshhh the mailbox key is so small it’s hilarious!! like it’s a baby or something and idk you’re just vibing, laughing at the mini object drunk off your ass.

and a disgruntled katsuki swings the door wide open while you’re giggling at your fucking keychain like an idiot.

caught like a deer in headlights, your expression actually makes his frown melt into an amused smirk, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “hey dopey, what’s so funny?”

shaking off the embarrassment, you throw your arms into the air and close your eyes, a great big grin on your lips as you loudly cheer his name.

katsuki has a huge weak spot for you and you just look so genuinely happy to see him that he doesn’t bother to make fun of you further, he just slips an arm around your waist and gathers you inside.

he asks how your night was while he bends down to take off your shoes, instructing you to lean on the door for support because you’re all wobbly and clearly not capable of standing upright on your own. god, how did you even make it back by yourself in one piece?

once the shoes are off, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. years of training have paid off, i mean, his biceps are probably the same circumference as your skull so… it makes sense that he’s able to carry you so easily but it still blows your mind every time he does it.

sets you on the edge of the bed, kissing your forehead when you ask if he’s always had such sparkly eyes. oh, how they shine in the moonlight. lmao you’re a cheesy drunk. he shakes it off with the classic bakugou tch but you know deep down he loves it.

he takes off your constrictive clothing so all you’re left in is your underwear, and yeah his eyes linger because you’re literally perfect to him. but it’s like three am now and he just wants to get you ready for bed, so he puts one of his ground zero shirts on you because he doesn’t trust himself to not escalate the situation with you sitting naked in front of him like that.

has you sit on the sink counter in the bathroom while he hands you your toothbrush, toothpaste already squeezed out and bristles wettened. as you very sloppily brush your teeth, complaining about how the mint flavor is “too spicy”, he’s busy getting out the makeup remover and wipes.

he watches you do your little routine every night so he’s well versed in what to do. he ties your hair back and you’re surprised, like, how does he know how to tie a girl’s hair?? you figure it’s from past experience so you let him know your thoughts.

he’s red from ear to ear with blush, and he adamantly explains that “it’s not that hard to do, smartass, i didn’t learn from that.”

is all pouty and grumbly as he swipes the cotton pad across your face but his touch is sweet and so careful, loving. you lean into him like a cat, and he gets even redder because fuck you’re really cute.

after you’re done brushing your teeth, katsuki hands you a glass of water and tells you to drink it, or else you’re not getting any cuddles tonight.

“slow down dopey— i didn’t mean all in one go!”

he puts on your skincare stuff too, and he even rubs it into your skin in the right direction and pressure.

you just kinda sit there and then suddenly you’re tearing up because your man is so considerate ?? and gentle?? and he’s just, ugh, perfect and all yours and you’re just really in your feelings all the sudden.

katsuki is shook when he stops focusing on rubbing the moisturizer into your neck to see tears gathering along your lower lashes.

“hey, what’s wrong, princess? did something happen? do you feel alright?”

you just pull him close and hold him tight. and katsuki is the smartest guy you know, he picks up all your social cues. so he softly wraps his strong arms around you, calloused fingers rubbing into your scalp.

“i just really love you,” you whimper, muffled his now damp shirt. “i’m sorry for keeping you up, i meant to just sneak in and slide into bed. you don’t have to do all this.”

he’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes you carefully, letting out a low sigh. “you worry too much, baby. you know i’d do anything for you...” he leans back and his thumb rolls over your wet cheek, eyes half lidded and a small, sincere smile on his lips, “and, i really love you too.”

kirishima:

kiri isn’t really the type to get super overprotective, and he does his fair share of partying so he is more than understanding when you tell him you’re going to the club with the girls.

he does pout a little when you tell him he can’t come, but he quickly accepts the fact because he understands it’s “girls’ night” and he probably wouldn’t want to be there for that anyway. although he does quip out a small comment about how sexy you look in your clubbing outfit, and how much sexier it’s gonna look on your bedroom floor later on.

safe to say you leave the house with a blush on your cheeks and a little heat between your legs.

you’re out with the 1A girls tonight— you’d all stayed pretty close after graduation and somehow you’d finally managed to get a night that all of you could attend. you can’t remember how many rounds of shots go by, and by the time the club is closing, your friends are all in various stages of drunkenness.

tsuyu and ochaco are playing some children’s hand game and singing along to it while they clap their hands together incessantly, jirou and hagakure are stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as some kind of competition and yelling in indignation, and mina and momo have their arms around your shoulders as they debate what would be tastier right now: takoyaki or taiyaki.

honestly you keep tripping up on the words because they sound so similar, so the conversation just keeps going in circles until one of you finally decides to call a cab.

it’s about one in the morning— the group had left the club to get a snack before the easy mart across the street closed and you’d each gotten probably too many foods, your eyes bigger than your stomach.

kirishima laughs when you walk into the apartment, wobbling a bit with the (surprisingly full) plastic “thank you!” bag swinging around in the air.

“hey babe, whatcha got there? woah now—“

he reaches out and catches you before you tumble over, a red brow raised teasingly at your questionable balance.

“you alright baby?”

his voice is always deep, but it sounds even more intoxicatingly velvety in your drunken stupor, and all you do is give him the eyes with your tongue poking out between your lips.

he laughs at you again, nodding and whispering a “later, eager girl” in your ear as he sits you down on the couch, large hands fiddling with the straps on your ankles.

kiri frowns as the heel comes off, angry red marks marring the top of your foot, the back of your ankle faring even worse with a blister rubbed raw laying there.

you hiss when he touches it experimentally, a look of surprise on your face and frustration on his.

“y’know you’re really deadly in those heels babe, but if i’d known they’d hurt ‘ya i wouldn’t have let ‘ya wear ‘em out for so long…”

he disappears into the bathroom for a moment only to come back with the first aid kit. he gingerly holds your foot with one hand, the other dabbing some antibacterial cream onto the wound. he rips the wrapper with his pointy teeth, and you stifle a laugh at his red hero logo littered across the bandage.

he chuckles at your laughter, pressing a gentle kiss to your knee as he repeats the action on the other foot.

once he’s done and you’re all bandaged up, he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs up across his lap.

he is not afraid to stay up late with you— actually, he prefers it because he just loves talking with you, especially when you’re all giggly and blushy because of the alcohol. plus he doesn’t want you to go to sleep still drunk (which he can tell you clearly still are), cuz he thinks you’ll have more of a hangover and it’s not that he doesn’t wanna take care of you tomorrow, it’s that he doesn’t want you to be in any pain if you can avoid it. he is a gentleman after all.

kiri inquires how your night out was, and you inform him of all the fun you’d had with the girls. he nods as he listens, big hands coming to rub your feet with the tiniest bit of strength— just enough to soothe your aching feet.

he tends to your every need;

fetching you an icy water bottle and encouraging you to drink from it frequently— “take another sip for me baby, I’ll add another minute to your massage if ‘ya do— haha that’s it, good girl!”

turning on the fan when you say you’re a little warm— “you’re hot? yeah i know. kidding. lemme get the fan for ‘ya.”

flicking on the TV and putting on your choice of entertainment. he doesn’t mind that it’s that show you love, even if it’s his third time watching this particular episode— “great choice babe, this one’s funny… hey, what’s that look for? of course it’s alright, i love this show!”  

it’s more of a background noise anyway as he talks with you, genuinely enjoying your company and just being there with you. he just wants to chat with you; share your smiles and hear your thoughts from the night, make silly jokes about the show and hear your laugh, lay his cheesy pickup lines on you even though you’ve been his for quite some time now.

and it’s so cute to him how you stumble on your words and amuse yourself when you’re drunk like this, and then when you remember you had bought snacks he swears his heart skips a beat at your squeal of excitement.

“this one’s for you!” you chime happily, hand outstretched and offering the box of pocky to him. his heart melts a little (okay maybe a lot) at your gift— he’d said he was craving chocolate last night and you had remembered, even in your intoxicated state.

gosh, he really loves you.

he’s about to voice the emotion when his thumb brushes over the perfect spot on the arch of your foot particularly hard, and a loud moan erupts from your lips, your brow furrowing and your lip pinching between your teeth.

you share a heated look before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“thanks babe, but the pocky’ll have to wait,” he murmurs as he tosses the box aside, pushing the bag of snacks onto the floor. crawling over your legs with a sharp-toothed smirk on his lips, he growls lowly, a glint in his crimson eyes. “there’s something else i needa taste of now…”

➥ masterlist — thanks for reading as always :)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#eheheh see what i did there #swapped ur expectations huh #didnt see that comin didja #my fics #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou fic #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou fluff #kirishima eijirou fic #bnha fluff #bnha fic #bnha hc #mha fluff #mha fic #mha hc

[colossal-fallout]

Coming right up ❤️

Fem!Reader X Eren

Warnings: 18+ NSFW smut / slight angst / cheating

Eren's brooding eyes snap towards his roomates bedroom door when he hears the muffled voices of you and your boyfriend. Your voices weren't quite yells - yet. But it was abundantly clear that there was almost certainly a storm brewing. Ignoring it, he returns his emerald greens onto the manga book he was reading, silently telling himself not to pry. This would be the fourth argument you two had this week - and it was only Wednesday. Over the course of the month...? He'd lost count.

He pushed away the irritation that began to claw under his skin. He'd always secretly had a thing for you and he seen that his douche bag of a roommate did not treat you as well as he should.

He leasuirely turns the page, his usual calm exterior hiding his frustration as sure enough, the volume of your voices begin to rise through the wood of the door.

He tries to ignore it, focusing on the magnificent art work that brought his pages to life. But he couldn't help but wonder in the back of his mind how much happier you'd be if you just left his ass and got together with himself.

When he hears your voice crack and an uncontrolled sob break through your lips, he leaps up with a sigh, scratching the back of his head and heading into his room. Hopefully by the time he has a shower and is dressed, the two of you would have hashed it out and made up.

Fat chance.

"You don't even have sex with me anymore..." He hears you cry tragically as he passes by the door to his room. "Do you think I'm ugly now...? I'm desperate here!"

His eyes widen and hands form into a fist, his entire body freezing at the sound of you sobbing those words.

Are you - no. Is he for real?! You're gorgeous. You're kind. Funny. Caring. Strong... What the fuck is wrong with him?!

He shakes his chestnut brown head and storms into his room, unintentionally slamming his door a lot louder than he'd meant to.

Eren takes his time in the shower - allowing the steam and hot water to relax him and refocus his mind. Really, it had nothing to do with him.

So why couldn't he shake you out of his mind?

He was relieved when he eventually got out, dried and dressed and he no longer heard the yelling. His eyes scanned the alarm clock next to his bed.

21:43

He'd been in the shower for a little over an hour. The warm water soaking into his skin and making it feel that extra bit soft. With a lazy yawn, he strolls to his door to pick up his book from the living room. He's surprised to see you sitting on the couch, alone reading his manga.

"Hey." He sounds, eyes wide as your beautiful form is melted onto the sofa.

"Oh, hey." You sit up nervously, placing his book down. "Sorry Eren, is this yours?"

"Where is he?" Eren asks, walking into the room.

"...I don't know." You mutter.

He could see that spark behind your eyes becoming extinguished due to that Jack ass and he wasn't going to just stand by and watch that happen.

He places his hands in this trouser pockets, leaning against the wall. His man bun a lot more loose than usual from his freshly washed hair; a couple of strands falling over his handsome face.

"You know... I think you're gorgeous." He admits without a care in the world.

You blink in surprise, not really knowing what to say. "I... Uh... Thank you, Eren. It means a lot."

"I know." He shrugs, slinking over to you and plonking himself down next to you, the weight of him making you sink slightly. "I couldn't help but hear you arguing. If you ask me..." He turns his head to look at you - his dark smouldering eyes peircing your very being. "He's an idiot."

Your cheeks begin to burn as you glance away shyly, your confidence well and truly in the back pocket of your boyfriend's jeans - wherever they may be or who's floor they're on right now.

He returns his gaze ahead, arms splaying over the back of the couch, his left arm over your shoulders but not touching you.

"I'm sorry you heard us arguing." You whisper.

"Doesn't bother me." He shrugs. "What bothers me is the burning question of why you're even still with him."

You don't answer. You don't have an answer. It's a question you'd asked yourself all too often.

Whatever shower gel Eren uses rolls off him into your nose. A mixture of spiced sandalwood with a hint of teatree maybe? Whatever it was, it combined with the warmth of his skin, blanketing you with such compassion you could almost feel his increased heart rate as his eyes slyly drink you in.

"I heard other things, too." He mutters, suddenly leaning his face close to yours with a smirk. "I can help you, if you want."

"H-help me?" You heart palpitates and butterflies flutter within you, his demeanor totally changing into something you'd never seen from him before.

"I can make you feel good." He explains with such simplicity, you were certain he couldn't possibly be taking about what you thought he was.

Your vacant expression forces him to spell it out for you.

With his large hand cupping your face , he brushes his lips against yours his eyes then scanning your orbs for any resistance. All he can see is how startled you are; wanting to kiss him but your conscience holding you back.

"Let me take care of you..." He reiterates, his hand now slowly moving up your thigh. "In more ways than one."

"E-eren..." You breathe, your logical thinking quickly being taken over by your now throbbing libido as this gorgeous man now gently slides his tongue into your mouth, catching your lips tenderly once he was fully inside.

He's beyond elated when you return his affections, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair; your breathing rate quickened yet heavy. His tongue caresses yours, swirling and entwining, his throat buzzing with a low, short moan.

It's a hurried kiss - your hands roaming each others face and hair with quick succession, your inhales and exhales pushing through your nostrils loudly, the both of you quickly becoming flustered.

Whether it were his alpha male DNA coming into play, or he got too fired up (maybe both) he ends up scooping you up with ease and carrying you, bridal style, into his bedroom. His lips never leave yours as he pushes the door closed with his foot behind hiny, reaching around and clicking the lock, before lowering you gently onto the bed.

He crawls over you, his breath heavy and eyes heavy lidded; his mouth finding its way to your neck and grazing it.

"Eren... I can't. It's not right..."

You hear yourself but it didn't feel like it was you saying those words, your body screaming at you to just shut the fuck up.

"I'm just showing you how you should be treated." He breathes, hand now roaming up your shirt. "You're not doing anything. It's all on me."

Your moan that escapes you as he pulls at your nipple pushes him on the verge of crazed lust, his lips returning to yours as he rolls your breast around in his large palm, squeezing and pulling. It had been so long since you'd been touched in this way, your body craved it so badly. You found yourself grinding against his thigh, your kisses now desperate as you tug at his hair.

Somewhere within enjoying his touches and kisses, he'd removed your pants. You weren't sure when, just one moment they were there, the next your legs were bare as his hand cups your crotch, your wetness soaking through the material of your panties.

"Eren..." You gasp, back arching at his warm skin - even through the material it felt so good.

His fingers hastily push them to the side with a groan, wanting nothing more than to have you fully. But he knew that wouldn't be possible. Not with the thought of him looming over you like a shadow.

You cry out a lot louder than expected when his long finger slides into you, followed by a second, his thumb circling your external magic spot as he continued to nuzzle into your neck; kissing, whispering and biting.

"Do my fingers feel good inside you?"

You nod, your grip on the sheets tightening, your legs tensing and releasing as he begins to wiggle his digits.

He'd spent many-a-night imagining you under him like this. His long cock was solid, and you could feel his yearning for you pressing tightly against your thigh.

Your body is on fire as he works you, picking up speed as your insides suck him in, caressing him and begging for more.

"You're so fucking gorgeous..." He hums, now looking down into your eyes. "Fuck... You've got me so hard."

You whine loudly at his words, back arching and nails digging deeper into his matress. Your face is burning, boardering on hysterical as your untouched sex is so lovingly caressed.

"yes, Eren... It's so good..." You sob, your mouth hanging open and your eyes clasping closed. "Ah~ Ah~~!"

"Fuck..." He marvels, watching you squirm at his charity.

"I'm going to... Already..." You warn, feeling suddenly full as the pleasure begins to get too intense.

"yes, cum baby..." He smiles softly yet devishly, his pace getting faster.

Your silent scream confirms your climax, your back springing and your insides clamping down, sprinkling his palm with your water as you swirl right down the drain and into the palm of Eren Yeager.

He watches you in sheer awe as you come undone, unweaving and unravelling at his mercy. Squirming and trembling, your body now under his control during those few seconds of unrestricted ecstasy.

You expected to be riddled with guilt when you'd come back to earth. But strangely you didn't. It felt... Right.

"Do you feel better?" He mutters, his mouth caressing your shoulder.

You nod, speachless.

He removes his fingers reluctantly; placing them on his flat tongue. "You taste good too." His tone has a bitter sting to it, you're perfect, just like he'd always thought.

"Be with me. Leave him." He states. "You deserve so much better. I want to be the one who takes care of you."

You think about it for a moment. It makes so much sense to do so. But well, y/n... Whether you take him up on his offer or not - it's up to you.

#snk #attack on titan #snk imagines #snk season 4 #snk fandom #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren smut #snk smut #eren x you #eren x oc #eren x y/n

[heartbreakgrill]

Say It Back; Jonah Marais

description: your take on a tiktok couple’s trend.

a/n: jonah looks so good I cannot 🥱

“Whatcha doing today?” You turned side to side on the stool, chewing quietly on the open case of blueberries on the counter in front of you.

Jonah sighed over the top of his coffee cup, blowing the steam over instead of up. His dark brows furrowed slightly, lips pursed, “We don’t have plans?”

You shrugged, “I don’t think so. It’s just another Wednesday.”

“And you don’t want to do anything?” Jonah titled his head towards you.

You shook your head, popped another berry. “I don’t have anything in mind.”

“Maybe I’ll see if Svea wants to hang out, then.”

You hummed in response and went in for a sip of your water. Jonah moved to sit beside you, thigh brushing yours. His skin was warm from sleep, those stupid British flag shorts he’d unboxed on his story unmatching his green sweatshirt. You had been up and dressed long before him for class and enjoyed a bit of alone time. Now, he was awake, and you were graced by his presence.

“I have some schoolwork to get done anyways.” You teetered your head until it fell onto his shoulder.

Jonah switched his coffee to his other hand, wrapping the other around your back. “I’ll bring you back a seashell.”

You smiled to yourself, blushing at the sentiment. He always insisted on bringing you things back- shirts from your, dog tags, keychains, post cards, autographs. He wanted you to have things. His love language was gifts, being remembered by someone with a small object even when he’s halfway across the universe.

When you finished your share of berries, you closed the container and put it in the fridge. You made yourself comfortable at your desk and began your schoolwork. Jonah moved around the room, the slowly emptying of his coffee cup signifying the time that went by as he got ready.

You slowly chipped away at your work, eventually getting a pretty decent amount of work done. Jonah was in the shower now, leaving the room quiet. You decided to take a break and opened TikTok on your phone. You planted your chin on your fist, palm on the desk.

You landed on another one of those couple’s TikToks, the sometimes cringey, wholesome-ly cute videos that reminded you of how lucky you were to be in love. Healthy love. This one was a new trend of not saying I love you back when your partner is leaving. You’d always wanted to try doing one of these trends on Jonah, but nothing ever really stuck with you. But this one- this one was good.

You went back to your schoolwork when Jonah came out of the bathroom, knowing that he would be leaving soon. You set your phone up, camera facing the length of your bedroom, and pressed record. He was already dressed and was putting his shoes on. When he sprayed his cologne, filling the room and your senses, you bit back a smile.

“Okay, I’m headed out,” he planted his hands on the back of your computer chair.

You leaned back, looking up at him with a smile, “Have fun.”

Jonah puckered his lips and dipped his head down to kiss you. Your hand caught his chin, held him against you for a moment. He pulled away, stroked your cheek as he went, and said, “Love you.”

“Okay, bye, hun. Have fun with Svea,” you faced your computer again.

Jonah was halfway out the door, but hesitated. “Love you.”

“Have fun!” You echoed, clamping down on your bottom lip with your teeth. Your cheeks were red, burning hot at the laughter holding back in your throat.

Jonah leaned against the doorframe, facing you, “Everything okay?”

You spun to face him, “Yeah, why?”

He furrowed his brows, “You said you didn’t want to do anything today.”

“I don’t,” you nodded at your computer, “I have schoolwork.”

“So,” Jonah’s eyes flickered around, trying to understand why you hadn’t said you loved him, “is everything okay with that? The schoolwork?”

You glanced at the open tabs, “It’s fine. Go, have fun with Svea. Bye!”

Jonah groaned, throwing his head back. You giggled a little and his head snapped forward. “I LOVE YOU!” He exclaimed, bending at the knees as he threw his hands in the air.

You met his eyes, grinning now, “Bye!”

“Baby!” He moved back in front of you, grabbing your hand and shaking you wildly. “If I die, the last thing you would’ve said to me is, ‘Bye.’ I know if I lost the love of my life and all I got was a crummy ‘bye,’ I would literally kill myself.”

You shrugged, though you were giggling, and said, “Cool. Bye.”

Jonah grabbed your face in his hands and started peppering kisses all across your skin. You were a giggling mess now, unable to escape his crazy affection. He said, “Say it back!”

Finally, you gave in, pushing him off of you, “Okay, I LOVE YOU. Now, go, leave- leave!”

Jonah cheered, punching the air. “I will see you later. Love you.”

“Love you.”

You shook your head at his retreating back before facing the camera with bright red cheeks, split with a grin. You turned it off, cut the edges of the video, and posted it on your TikTok. You tagged Jonah, and he was the first person to like and comment on it. His comment had a lot of exclamation marks, a threat that he would get back at you. But, he responded to his own comment with, “I love you.”

The fans loved it, to say the least.

#jonah marais #jonah marais x reader #Jonah marais x y/n #why don’t we x y/n #why don’t we fluff #why don’t we x reader #why don’t we imagine #why don’t we imagines

[starryasmo]

Cottagecore MC x Demon Brothers

this has a bonus chapter with the undateables in the making!! cross posted on my ao3, which can be found in my bio ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ ☆☆

——— 

Sometimes, Lucifer wondered truly how innocent you could be.

You were simply the purest. You were like a little woodland fairy, flitting about and bouncing upon mushrooms and through the foliage of the Devildom as you skittered about, doing your tasks diligently and with a warm smile all the while. Your delight at seeing a tree in your room was like that of the warm sun of the human world, the sun that Lucifer remembered as golden rays and a warm embrace. You would hum as you completed your tasks and when you finished, you would beam proudly at your handiwork, and Lucifer would swear on his life that he could see the pale white sparkles surrounding your face as you preened at your hard work, bringing an innocuous light to the usually dark and enigmatic Devildom.

You were as cute as a human could be, with doll lashes framing sweet gentle eyes and fluttering against cherubic cheeks that flushed with pink. Mammon had even tried to market you as a doll to sell at one point, and Leviathan liked to have you standing next to his Ruri-chan life-sized cardboard cutout or figurines to make it feel like his collection was complete. You smelled of tea leaves and spring petals and warm sugar cookies and soft cream puffs, and the scents brought a small dosage of serotonin to Lucifer’s heart whenever you passed by. When you weren’t in your RAD uniform, you liked to dress up in pale peasant blouses, flouncy pinafore dresses, and cozy knits that Satan would gift you. You were like a forest wanderer, skipping along the trails of the Devildom as if it were a leisure stroll through the woods, wicker basket hanging off your arm as you hummed, carefree and bright. Had you been anyone else, Lucifer would have scolded you for your naivety as to walking carelessly in a world of ravenous demons, but one look in your pure, sweet eyes, and the words died on his tongue like melted snow.

You had even managed to attain the favor of the other six brothers, albeit you had no clue that you had six of the seven overlords of Hell vying for your attention and your gentle smile as you invited the Little D’s to have tea with you in your room.

Mammon would accompany you to the human world market on Wednesdays when you went to go shop for groceries and to buy little trinkets. He’d trail after your happy figure, your linen apron fluttering in the early spring breezes as you filled your basket with vegetables and meat, as well as sweet bread, milk, and sugar. At first, he’d been reluctant, trudging after you boredly because it had been his obligation to accompany you to the human world and bring you back. However, after he’d noticed you always tucking the afternoon tea menus into the pockets of your dress and buying hand painted teacups from the shop with the elderly owner more often than not, he’d questioned your motives, and you introduced him to starting collections of things that you found pleasing. Now, whenever Wednesday struck, he was pulling you along excitedly to the human realm, eager to add on to his collections of cute rings, little trinkets such as lockets and charms, and other treasures that caught his eye. You had even bought him a comical-like treasure chest for him to store his newest finds in. Every time he finished a collection, something new would catch his eye, and he’d be rushing to buy it. It was one of the perfect ways to spend leisure time with the second born. He especially loved it when you invited him to bake with you, surprisingly. He passed it off with the excuse that he could sell some of the pastries and make good money, but he found himself eagerly looking forward to you waking him up gently in the wee hours of the morning on the weekends so you two could sneak into the kitchen and bake something. Those hours were usually spent baking batches upon batches of treats, enough to satiate Beelzebub’s ravenous urges and still have enough left over for everyone else. You two would dust powdered sugar on each other’s cheeks, sharing laughs and jokes as you cleaned each other up. The treat that Mammon liked to bake with you the most was your infamous honey tarts. They tasted delicious, and they reminded him of gold, therefore combining his two favorite things — gold, and you. He loved spending time with you that way, and when you’d offered to feed him a honey tart once, he was sure that something in him short circuited.

Leviathan wasn’t as easily convinced as Mammon had been. Being someone who preferred to stay in his room, he was a lot more hesitant to allow you to visit his room, especially considering your fondness with nature and his aversion to it, as cute as you were. However, you had noticed the plants that he’d gotten just to give his limited edition porcelain Ruri-chan flower pots a purpose, and your sweet and gentle smile had twisted into a slight frown, which had caused his heart to shrink and tighten up in slight fear upon seeing your calm and loving demeanor fade, although he would deny it to this day. When you lifted the pots from their shelves, he’d tutted anxiously, warning you with rushed words to be careful. You had sighed and carefully emptied out the pots, filling them with richer soil from the farms of the human world. You had brought some flower seeds with you, and you had pulled Leviathan over from his game to help you. He couldn’t deny that the way that your soft and gentle hands guided his to tend to the flowers was something that pleased him greatly, and when the first blooms had sprouted from the soil, you had smiled before giving each bloom a small kiss on the bud, and while the sight was totally moe, it sparked up that familiar twinge of envy in Leviathan’s heart, which he shoved down quickly in favor of seeing your beautiful smile as you kissed the blossoms. Your hands were gentle in handling both the flower pots and in squeezing his and untangling his fingers from his hair during anxiety attacks or episodes, and they were probably his favorite thing about you. They were incredibly soft, and your fingers were delicate and smelled like the light lemon pies you would bring in during gaming sessions to feed him while he played. You loved baking for him, and he loved it when you baked for him, especially when you would decorate the desserts to make them seem like they were straight out of a fantasy anime. He honestly liked sneaking peeks into the kitchen to see you baking more than he liked the desserts themselves, but he’d be damned if he ever told you that. After all, he needed the perfect dating sim route to go slow and steady, right?

Getting along with Satan was something that had come surprisingly easy to you once you got past his distrusting facade, because nobody, especially not a human, could possibly be this gentle and sweet . When you had earned his trust, however, you two would pass the wee hours after studying by curling up before the ornate fireplace and reading together, cups of enchanted cocoa steaming next to you. You enjoyed reading with him — his presence was comfortable and warm, and more often than not, he would read to you in a silky smooth voice that you absolutely adored. When Diavolo had sent you to the human world to retrieve some of your belongings in order to make you feel more at home, one of the things you had brought back was a thick book full of fairytales and worn pages. That was the thing that had caught his eye the most, and when you’d noticed him reading not-so-subtly over your shoulder, you had shot him a gentle smile and began to read the story of Hansel and Gretel aloud to him. Of course, he didn’t understand the merit of the story, but hearing your voice reading all these fantastical stories of grandiose warriors and heartwarming romances was enough to make his heart melt. Your voice was probably his favorite thing about you — it was soothing and sweet, like a sip of his favorite tea. Earl grey, which you somehow knew already because you were a clever little pixie of a human who could read him like an open book, no pun intended. You even made it the way he liked it. He especially loved hearing you talk to his cats about mindless little things, even if he thought that they couldn’t understand you and you couldn’t understand them. Truth be told, he liked hearing you chatter to any woodland creature; when you two went to the human realm together, he noticed that you would always stop to tell the birds about your day, or strike up a friendly conversation with the bunnies who lived in the rosebushes, or tell the deer that seemed to draw towards you about Satan himself and how kind he was. You always seemed so happy to talk to them, even if they couldn’t understand you. He was becoming unsure of that, however, but he ignored it. Why dwell on that when he could watch you chatter with the frogs and ducks by the pond instead?

Asmodeus was quick to smother you with affection. How could he not? You were as cute as a button and twice as precious, and you smelled like honey and wild berries! You were simply too cute for him to resist. Almost immediately after your transfer to the House of Lamentation, he’d whisked you into his room and sat you down for an impromptu makeup session. You’d been a bit overwhelmed at the fast pace, but eventually just let it happen as you let him do your makeup. He couldn’t stop crooning at how cute you looked, both naturally and with touches of subtle but elegant makeup here and there. He had definitely taken you out to find clothes that you liked at Majolish, and he’d entertained your hobbies of collecting little trinkets by taking you to shops that sold items that you liked. In return, you gifted him little homemade pieces of jewelry you made, such as the gold necklace with flower charms and little baby buds on it that you’d given him for his birthday, or the honey earrings and bee pendant you’d made him as a thank you gift for taking you to a farmer’s market when everyone else had been busy. Picnics in the human realm were also a common occurrence with you two, and they usually ended in you two weaving flowers into each other’s hair and telling each other stories as you snacked on blueberry cheesecake and passionfruit tarts. You would bring two portable cups for the two of you, and the drink would be different every time — some days, it would be raspberry cordial for him and a berry mix for you, and other days he would get a sweet latte while you sipped on honey tea. There was never a dull moment with you two, and you loved running through grassy lavender fields with him, especially when he would catch up with you and lift you by your waist, the breeze filtering through your hair and ruffling the skirt of your dress as you let out giddy giggles that brought a blossom of warmth to his chest, right under his heart. The sun would beam down upon you two and kiss your scalps gently, and you would lean on Asmodeus’ shoulder with a contented smile, never really noticing the faint twinges of pink on his cheeks or the way he subtly pulled you closer to him.

Beelzebub, truth be told, didn’t really like you at first, although he never expressed it. You reminded him too much of Lilith, too much of her breezy laugh and gentle smile and pure demeanor, and even though he knew that you weren’t trying to replace her and that you didn’t know what had happened, it still hurt to look at you and see Lilith’s face flicker behind his eyelids. However, when the events of freeing Belphegor and you dying had occurred, Beelzebub had felt a primal desire to protect you, defend you, save you , rip through his body like a papercut. He wanted to protect you. You , not Lilith. So he embraced that change and tried to be a bit more friendly with you, which he found surprisingly easy. No doubt had you noticed the shift in his demeanor around you, and while it miffed you slightly that it took you dying and freeing his twin brother for it to happen, you were still happy that he didn’t seem to hate you anymore. You weren’t Lilith, he knew. And he didn’t see her when he looked at you anymore. What sealed the deal for him, however, was when you were put on cooking duty. He’d tried Solomon’s cooking before and left his plate untouched for the rest of the night, but when he came downstairs on your first night to see what you had prepared for them, he was met with a pleasant smell that had his mouth filling with drool as he trailed after the scent, right into the kitchen, like a moth drawn to a flame. Luckily, you were plating the food by the time he made it into the kitchen, and his eyes roved over a main course of sweet chickpea potato curry with halloumi and roasted cherry tomatoes, accompanied with mushrooms and sauced lamb chops. Next to the bowl of curry was a plate of strawberry beignets dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with maple syrup. You had ever so kindly offered him one — one , mind you — and he’d been stunned at how incredible your cooking was. Needless to say, with your constant gifts to Beelzebub in the form of steamy homemade soup with toasted croutons or treacle tarts with dollops of cream, it wasn’t a surprise that he found himself adoring you and showing you more affection than any of the other brothers.

Belphegor, of course, hadn’t met you until a bit later after your transfer. Despite your frankly adorable features and demeanor, he wasn’t below deceiving you and killing you. Although he acted like he adored you and was smitten with your gentle and sweet personality, his hands still gripped your throat until what was supposed to be your final breath. However, unlike all of his other victims, something in him had shriveled up in horror upon seeing your delicate eyes wide with fear and pain. Something in him had eaten at his stomach uncomfortably when he saw the blood from your neck dripping down his nails and staining the pure white of your linen apron. His mind had been flooded with a split second tidal wave of pure shock and horror at what he had done when your fragile body ceased to move. When you came back due to Barbatos’ power, he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you desperately after he got over the tiny spark of anger in his mind. You, being the sweet and forgiving angel that you were (not literally), dismissed it, and although you were weary around him, you soon learned to lighten up and trust him again. You did slip a few times around him due to reflex, like when you’d accidentally burned your hand against the tray of pastry croissants and golden twist rolls that you’d pulled out of the oven when you turned around and he was suddenly there, sitting on the counter, towering over you. However, you found yourself warming up to him in time, and when you’d invited him to come up to your own little leafy treehouse in the mossy forest, he’d felt a bit honored that you had invited him out of all the brothers. There, you two had shared snacks and pressed your hands against the lilypads in the pond. You two had sat at the edge of the lake, looking around at the variety of mushrooms surrounding you two while your feet dipped in the water, talking about everything and nothing at all. It was just the two of you enjoying a quiet moment together, and when you two had climbed the tall tree back to the treehouse, you fell asleep with your legs loosely tangled together, listening to the sound of rain pattering the windows.

With how quickly you charmed his brothers and were able to get them to be at your every beck and call, even without the pact, Lucifer would have thought that you were an angel in disguise, or perhaps a magical being. Perhaps a pixie, or a woodland fairy, or maybe a little doll come to life.

But he was soon to find out that your charm was all natural, no magic.

It had started when you’d knocked gently on the door to his study, carrying a tray in your slightly shaking hands. Perhaps you were intimidated by him — the thought of your sweet and cheerful nature being withered by fear of him was a thought that made his chest swell with pride. Either way, you had let yourself in upon his approval, setting the tray down on the part of his desk that wasn’t swamped in paperwork.

With a small voice, you explained to him that you’d learned a bit of magic due to your time in the woods, and you had charmed the treats that you brought him — soft tea cakes with sweet glaze and your signature ‘lucky tea’; a brew of dried gold clover, lotus petals, and enchanted honey. The tea cakes were supposed to relieve pains in your muscles and bones, and the glaze was steeped in mountain snow, so it was supposed to relieve Lucifer of the burn in his body due to stress. The tea had calming properties, as well as being charmed to grant the consumer good luck for a short amount of time. You said that you hoped it would help Lucifer breeze through the paperwork stacked on his desk. He hadn’t reacted much other than a slow eyebrow raise, a nod of thanks, and a dismissal. You bowed at the waist and scampered off, clutching the hem of your apron anxiously.

Most of your other interactions had been more lighthearted, like when he’d swiped a small dollop of ganache from where you were baking molten lava cakes. He’d used his finger to smudge the chocolate across your nose, and you blinked, snapping out of your baking trance, before giggling slightly and wiping it off with your thumb, sucking the sweet concoction off of your finger. Lucifer had followed the motion with his eyes and briefly wondered what else he could get away with, if only to elicit those soft little reactions from you.

He also noticed that you never reacted the way anyone else would have when Asmodeus made a dirty joke, or when Mammon nudged you into the more scandalous clothing sections of Majolish. When you heard those comments from Asmodeus, you simply blinked and voiced your confusion. When mammon tried to get you to dress in skimpy leather or latex, you frowned slightly and said that the clothing wasn’t really your type before opting to go over to the sections you usually shopped in.

Later, he learned that you had grown up alone, with only the woods and your otherworldly connection with nature keeping you alive. You had only started interacting with others at the ripe age of eight years old — before that, you lived amongst the small creatures of the forest, feeding off of the foods they brought you, as if they were your family. Perhaps they were. You spent most of your life building shelters for yourself, until you were old enough and experienced enough to begin building your own cottage. It was a quaint little stone cottage, nothing fancy, and it was humble and hidden away, and you absolutely loved it. You had spent most of your life in it, baking tarts and pastries with the ingredients you bought from the merchants in your village in exchange for rare mushrooms, seeds, and plants with healing properties that you seemed to have a sixth sense for finding. Most of your life had been spent frolicking in the woods, swimming in the lake and snacking on pastries of your own creation and chatting with the woodland creatures you encountered. You were a creature of the forest, a creature of flower scented skin and a honey voice.

What an innocent being you were, Lucifer mused over a cup of your lucky tea. The teacup, he noticed, was one of your favorites, the porcelain one with the gold rim and the hand painted floral design. Briefly, he wondered how you found the time to collect all of these things, all while pulling together so many gifts for him and his brothers and still miraculously completing each of your tasks with perfect marks.

His eyes flickered to the plate on the same tray — hand carved and painted by you yourself, and he was the only one who got this privilege; honestly, it was going to make his heart combust — that the tea had come on, the circular dish scattered in crumbs and smears of cream and jam from your latest impulse baking session; heart shaped waffles with cream and raspberry puree. Of course, Beelzebub had immediately poked his head into the kitchen at the smell of fresh fruit and waffles, but you had managed to hide some from his hungry eye — just enough to give to the rest of the brothers. Of course, you had taken the liberty of drawing a little panda bear on one of the two waffles you’d given him, using chocolate and cream, because he was special to you, he knew he was, and because he was special, you gave him special treatment. Just the thought of it brought a prideful smile to his face, lips twisted somewhat informally.

Perhaps he’d made the right choice in sneakily slipping your folder away for future reference during the selection process of the exchange students.

But nobody needed to know that but him.

#obey me #swd #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #cottagecore #cute mc #gn mc #gn reader #second person #this is so cute #also this is completely me projecting

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.2

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick au), sugar daddy au, angst rating: mature words: 4.4k warnings: violence mention, toxic relationships, mentioned deaths a/n: oh fyi jeongguk isnt part of the mafias included in these drabbles, he’s a solo hitman who works closely with taehyung nd other mentioned men. he has his own little business/group of hitmen (like the continental kinda style thing) where he’s sort of the big man who people look up to, but he’s not rly mafia :) hope that helps explain stuff hehehe. Also this one is sad heheheh x2

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

(11) Telling them a dumb joke just to see them smile.

“I’m really sorry, baby. I really am.”

Next to you on the couch, Jeongguk reaches for your hands that are clamped in your lap. The clock ticks hauntingly slowly, and everything feels dark, and cold, and empty. The front room that is usually vibrant with life and energy is now devoid of emotion, besides the sniffles on the couch that are hidden in shadows.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, sniffing once again. “Not your fault.”

“I know,” Jeongguk says, “but I’m still sorry.”

There was nothing that could have been done. Not really, even though Jeongguk repents at the thought that he could have done something. It was an accident, a car that pushed into another one and sent your parents off the bridge and into the Han River. It seemed impossible, but as of late, the impossible became possible. Jeongguk had heard the news several hours after you, contemplating in the silence of your responses over the phone. Eventually, he asked Taehyung and got more than what he bargained for.

“Is there anybody left?” he asks.

“Like my family?”

“Yeah,” he softly answers.

You sniff once more, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “My aunt, she, uh, she lives in Finland, I think. I don’t know, everybody cut ties after you. Well. After, you know.”

Jeongguk gulps sourly, “yeah. After your brother.”

Somewhere in the city, police sirens blare. From in the kitchen, the small radio still reads out a report of the accident, and if Jeongguk were to rise and look out of the window, he might see the flashing lights from the bridge. When the room goes silent, Jeongguk’s just afraid you’ll hear the report and start crying again.

“Can you, um,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I don’t know, tell me about your day or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jeongguk mutters, rubbing his thumb across your hand. “Wore that badge to work today. You know the Dad one?” You nod and he continues, “Got a stir out of my guys. You were right, Taehyung got salty about it.”

You manage a laugh, little puffs of air from your nose. “I should have got him one. Maybe a brother one, I didn’t see uncles.”

“Fuck him,” Jeongguk says, “My gift, my badge.”

“Don’t wanna upset him,” you shrug pathetically, along with a tight sniff that burns your left nostril.

Jeongguk rubs your arm, “He’s not gonna be upset. Seeing you upset makes me upset, though,” he says quietly, and you peer around your hair at him, “what kind of Dad would I be if I let my little girl be upset, hmmm?”

He raises his eyebrows like he’s feigning an innocence and the sight makes you laugh slightly, not enough to distract you but enough to leave Jeongguk satisfied. He smiles and leans over, dropping his head against yours with a little sigh that blows your hair. It wasn’t enough to distract you from the devastation that is losing your family, but if it’s something to make you feel less alone, then he’ll try.

(12) Following their family traditions that they enjoy.

“I can’t imagine your brother doing this,” Jeongguk says, holding a ribbon of tinsel in his hands with an unconvincing stare thrown in your direction. He does this whilst standing near the doorway, just behind your couch, like he’s ready at any moment to leave or come inside.

As he does this, you’re across the living room, waltzing with a tree that stands on an angle, lopsided and skinny and naked with no decorations. The lights sit in a snake-like swirl on the floor, flickering on one setting and in resignation, you sigh loudly and turn to face him.

“Well, the last time he helped me decorate a tree, I was five,” you reason. “It’s been a long time, but my parents always did this with me, and-”

“Yeah, I know,” Jeongguk frowns. Since the bridge, he’s always walked on eggshells around the subject of parents and traditions. Before he knew it, Christmas was two weeks away, and around his tight schedule and endless demand for his presence at work, he figured he had to make up for the lost time by being with you.

Jeongguk never imagined that he’d rely on you to absolve him of his own boredom and self pity, but here he is, on a Wednesday afternoon in your apartment that he unwillingly thinks of as a retreat, a home away from home when things get too claustrophobic back at his own place. Things are messy and complicated and cold there. He likes being here, because of how it feels being here.

But maybe he’s here out of guilt, and you stare at him for a few seconds, recognising this unfamiliar distance in his eyes that screams guilt and discomfort. You don’t want to mention it, scared of what might be underneath the mask he’s wearing tonight.

“If you’re not gonna do anything, can you at least hold the tree so I can put the lights on it?” you ask. “You can just go, if you want.”

“I don’t,” he insists, moving around the couch. “I just. I never did this as a kid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he admits, grabbing the tree as you crouch for the lights, “so this feels a little childish.”

You shrug, “nothing childish about Christmas.”

“Everything about Christmas is childish when you have never really celebrated it,” Jeongguk theorises. Now that he’s holding the tree, it’s a lot easier to decorate.

“We can celebrate it if you’d like,” you suggest. He says nothing, “not like all the gifts and stuff, but just in general.”

Jeongguk smiles to himself and moves so you can weave the lights around the branches. “Alright, sounds like it’ll kill my time this Christmas?”

You scoff, laughing lightly. “Well, isn’t that what I’m here for? To kill your time?”

Jeongguk takes a step back once the lights are wrapped around, and throws an arm over your shoulder, bringing you closer to his body. “Something like that.”

(13) Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

Jeongguk had asked you to meet him at his place when he got off from work, and thankfully the guard on the gate had let you up early with the promise of cookies the next time you came to visit. You let yourself up to his suite and waited on the couch, a cup of tea steaming on the coffee table and nothing to do but stare at the ceiling, lit up blue with the city outside.

About half an hour later, Jeongguk comes through the front door and drops his shit by the shoe rack. His keys rattle and drop on the counter and a few moments later, he’s moving across the room to the couch where he drops, knees first, setting his head in your lap as he falls.

“Hey,” you say unenthusiastically, stifling a yawn as he groans and stuffs his face closer into your body. He doesn’t say anything, just lies there, and you gently lock your fingers into his hair that seems messy and almost curly and begin to play.

“Tired?” you ask, and this time he moans in reply, a yes, and nothing else is said.

(14) Singing and dancing to their favourite song.

“Remind me again- it’s definitely okay that I’m here as your guest?”

Jeongguk’s hand on your lower back never disappears as he tours you around the room, gently smiling at people around him with a slender glass of wine in the other free hand. It is on this Saturday evening that Jeongguk finds himself in attendance of the Somber-Rain Ball. Unlike any other time where Jeongguk came solo, or with his colleagues from work, tonight he is joined by you, tailored in a beautiful black dress that sweeps the floor behind you, still somehow modest enough to keep you out of the glazed eyes of the other attendees.

“Yes, it is absolutely fine,” he sighs, steering you out of the self-collected gallery that surely belongs in this large and maze-like mansion. “I wouldn’t have brought you with me if it wasn’t allowed, Y/N.”

“I know, but lately you’ve been doing all sorts of things that you probably shouldn’t,” you remind him, curling into his armpit as you cross the dancefloor towards the bar, that slopes to a side and is scarcely populated. A man who stands there bows his head to Jeongguk but ignores him straight afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, “Isn’t that my thing?”

“I don’t want to get myself into trouble,” you shrug. Jeongguk smiles and kisses the crown of your head.

“Getting into trouble is my job, dear, not yours.” He faces the bartender and slides the drink, “A round of bourbon after the dance, please.”

“What kind, sir?”

Jeongguk hums, then clicks his tongue, “Try the Brothers’ Bond, I heard you just had it imported.”

The bartender nods, “Certainly, sir.”

Jeongguk nods and turns his attention back towards you, right as the young bartender hurries to find clean glasses for the happy couple. Jeongguk turns to your eyes and smiles at the raised eyebrows he sees, and pulls you further towards him as the orchestra finishes their latest piece.

“Isn’t that the bourbon that the Salvatore brothers made?” Jeongguk asks, feigning an innocence and a forgetfulness for the time you brought it up to his face a few weeks ago. You say nothing besides shaking your head, turning towards the crowd as it slightly thins, just as the orchestra calls it for a few seconds, and a song on the speakers takes its place.

It’s just the first few opening chords but Jeongguk clearly is familiar. He sighs loudly, audibly with an “ah” and then tucks himself closer to you.

“Love this song,” he states. “Miss L/N, care to dance with me?”

You look towards the floor, and then back at him: “Yeah, sure. Is this Doris Day?”

Jeongguk seems pleased as he leads you. He takes a center position, caring little about the potential attention he may attract by taking your waist. It doesn’t stop him from doing so, a smile in your hair as he begins the dance.

“Glad you know it,” Jeongguk replies. “I spent a lot of time with my Aunt when I was younger. She loved this song.”

You hum quietly, “She has good taste. I think this song is in that one Tonya Harding movie.”

“Probably,” he scoffs, kissing your hair again and curling an arm tighter around your middle. He is certainly attracting unwanted eyes. In a metaphorical perspective, this is your first dance. Might be your only dance, but Jeongguk’s not trying to wish away the moment, not just yet.

(15) Calming them down when they have a bad dream.

Bad dream. Not you. Tonight, Jeongguk is a victim. 

He shoots himself awake before you have a time to sit up on your elbows, and he pants loudly, searching around the mattress for a weapon but instead, he finds your hands. Jeongguk jumps.

“It’s just me,” you tell him breathlessly, staring at his wide and wild eyes. He gasps, like he forgot you were even there, but calms when he scurries to take your hand in his own.

Jeongguk hates to feel like he needs help, but tonight, he seeks you first. He slides his hands around yours and finds his grip, remembering where and who and presses a kiss to your hand as you lift it to his face.

“Sorry,” he apologises, “bad dream. I’m gonna-”

“It’s okay,” you assure him quietly, now sitting upright. “You never have to say sorry, okay? It’s okay.”

“Mhm,” he agrees half-heartedly. “I’m gonna….get a drink, or something.”

He rises from the bed and quite literally stumbles to the door, coughing the dryness from his throat as he makes his way to the kitchen. From the bed you sit and watch him leave, knowing from routine that when he comes back, he’ll lie awake, stoney, and won’t rest until the morning. He won’t sleep for the remainder of the night, and he’ll sleep in the office.

Jeongguk never talks of his nightmares. He never tells you about the recurring dreams of his past, his past lovers or friends or family. You know that the dreams must be so bad that he pretends to sleep to keep you from worrying. 

He never tells you that he gets them most when you sleep over, because the more aware he is of you beside him, the more he dreams of losing you.

(16) Having a tickle fight until you’re breathless.

There was no contract for your arrangement with Jeongguk. You were part of a very complicated sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, and there were never really any rules to it. You could fall in love with him all you wanted, but all Jeongguk had made clear from the first date was that he didn’t fall easily, and wasn’t seeing you to fall in love. If you fell for him, he didn’t really care. He’d never fall back. (Right?)

Despite there being no rules, you still always felt like taking photos with Jeongguk often felt like a breach of contract, like breaking the rules. Jeongguk had already shown you off to the world of Mafia and crime at the Somber-Rain Ball, but yet you were afraid to take a photo for your own gallery.

There was one, however, that Jeongguk had taken himself and sent to you when he was on a trip in Athens. It was a slightly dark and blurry photograph, from early when you two had met and Jeongguk felt like he had to get you to stay sometimes by playing the role of a lover. In the photo, his fingers are ghosting at your sides, his face is scrunched and in a smile and you’re rolling around on the covers. It’s a live photo, so it moves for a few seconds.

Jeongguk had made you laugh almost to the point of tears, and you can probably still remember the feeling of knots in your stomach, your voice threatening to pee on his bed if he didn’t pack it in. He stopped, reluctantly. He didn’t want to see you pee. He didn’t want you to cry, either.

Back then, he had been generous to avoid tears. (What changed?)

(17) Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.

It’s been a long day. That was obvious by the way Jeongguk called you at two, and didn’t even want to do anything once you got here. Just got home. Are you free, maybe? Like an idiot, you came.

His place was a sight for sore eyes; by the front door, he hadn’t even taken off his shoes, and a pile of cluster and mess led a trail to his bedroom. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, staring at the way he lay with his face down on the covers, feet hanging off the bed stiffly, the curtains drawn, city blaring, TV on a quite volume relaying the emergency call made to the police this morning about the death of Cho Minsu, one of Seoul’s most controversial politicians.

For a few minutes, you remain in the doorway and he remains unmoved.

“...and, although the call made to the police department this morning was made anonymously, the leader of the police department, Choi Seungkwan, seems to believe that the call was made by at least one of the rumoured underground organisations within this city. Just last week, the Twin Tiger Mafia were making headlines after a fire was caused in the center of Seoul, but there have been no confirmations from the police at this time, nor has a statement been issued by the President. One witness said it was the work of one man, which leads the authorities to believe that this is the involvement of a third party.”

Jeongguk appears glum by the news but doesn’t switch it off. As he wallows in his own self despair, you turn back towards the main section of his home and take in the mess. There’s a smashed frame on the floor, and the kitchen is disgustingly overcrowded with dishes, and ashtrays that are like mountains. The living room is cold and empty and clothes hang over the back of his couch. Here, you find not only his clothes from the night before but also the suit from the ball, as well as underwear you know isn’t yours.

Quietly, and without a fuss, you reach for the unknown underwear and with your hand tucked underneath one of his clothes, you scoop them up and toss them into the washer in the kitchen. The ashtray is cleaned, the dishes are put in the dishwasher, and the curtains are drawn. Jeongguk must be asleep by the time you come into his bedroom, carrying the clothes you folded for him to set away in his cupboards.

This will be the second time you have cried in his bedroom while he was sleeping, and as he sleeps, peaceful and perhaps even remorseful, you return back to the front door and slip into your shoes.

(18) Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

You dream of him.

It’s the night of the ball. As you’re in the arms of Taehyung, stuck in a dance that will make you look less like a trophy wife for Jeongguk, the man himself is stuck in a conversation near the bar. Probably halfway through the waltz, you manage to lock his gaze. It’s like a movie, where the characters meet in slow motion, and everything seems to be slower and more passionate. All he does is smile, so gently and softly that it doesn’t even look like him.

It’s gone and he’s back to a straight face in conversation before you know it, but it’s enough for you to dream about it. Maybe this time, you’ll add a little bit to it, and create a new story to replace the original. One where the circumstances might be different, or the song, or the man you’re with.

(19) Bringing them a plate of their favourite sliced fruit.

“...what the fuck is a ‘BARB’, again? Surely not the Barbs, right? Right?”

Slowly but surely, you may be going insane behind this computer screen. You woke up in a cold sweat to the assumption your paper was due today, only by happy surprise to figure out it’s due next week, on a totally different day. It was eight, the sun was shining, and all Jeongguk can hear as he wakes up is keys tapping away relentlessly.

He stretches his arms and moves from the bed, swinging his feet to the floor and as if he owns the place (although if he’s being technical, he does) he heads to the shower and gets himself cleaned for the day he has planned ahead. Jeongguk showers, brushes his teeth and jumps into the clothes he came here in. By the time he’s out, he has time to poke his head into your makeshift study, which used to be a laundry room before the bastard thing broke and you had it moved to the bathroom instead. You’re still working, one leg up folded and a string of swear words leaving your mouth as you stare at the blinking word document.

Jeongguk frowns, nonetheless unsurprised by your antics. Ever since you went back to school, he’s been seeing less of you. Truthfully, it’s fine; Jeongguk is more than used to being alone and he doesn’t like to spend too much time with you. Not because he doesn’t like to, but quite actually for the opposite reason. Jeongguk likes you too much that he’s afraid he’ll give more than he wants to get back. Why fall in love when he can’t afford to?

Jeongguk moves to the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting a bottle of water. Sucking his teeth, he closes the fridge and grabs two apples from the bowl near the kettle. He twists the little device he found from your drawer and removes the stalk for both, cutting shapes out of the fruit into a bowl. He tosses the utensils into the washing up bowl for you to tackle later when you inevitably procrastinate, and before he leaves to go to work, Jeongguk heads back towards where you sit and brings the bowl just in between your hands, in front of the keyboard.

You look up with alarm as he does this, frightened because he came in so silently. He smiles quickly, innocent, and leans forward to kiss you. He tastes like toothpaste.

“Morning, gotta go, though,” he says in a hurry.

Before he moves back, you lean up and steal a second kiss, “so early?”

“Mm, I have to go to work,” Jeongguk replies.

You glance at the fruit. “Did you cut this?”

“Yep. I know it’s so hard to chop fruit, but I did it all by myself,” he jokes. He kisses you a third time, “Really gotta go. Don’t call me ‘til you finish this fucking paper.”

“Like that’s ever gonna happen,” you grumble, turning to the screen with a frown. Jeongguk smiles to himself and ruffles your hair, just before he steps out of the office and leaves you in the silence, collecting his things and leaving before Taehyung threatens to put a bounty on his head for being late to work again.

(20) Washing their back/hair in the shower.

“Fuck, shower sex sucks ass.”

You turn around, almost offended. “What?”

Jeongguk laughs loudly in the comforts of his own bathroom, leaning for a shampoo off the shelf. “I’m not saying you’re bad, I’m just saying it sucks. It’s so...slippery and hard.”

“I thought you liked it,” you reply.

He shrugs.

“Then why the fuck do you insist on it,” you sigh, spinning and leaning for the bottle. He moves it away, “Don’t be stingy.”

“I’m gonna wash your hair for you,” Jeongguk explains, squirting a generous amount into his hands. “Turn back around, love when your ass is against my dick like that.”

You roll your eyes and do as he says. He’s a kidder after he fucks you. Probably a pride thing because he knows he’s done a good job. Jeongguk massages the shampoo into your hair and inhales the scent, because it’s a new seasalt fragrance he saw on Youtube when he was looking at interviews for this one super secret guy he’s after, and apparently Adblock for Safari is shitty and never blocks ads on videos.

“Smells good,” you compliment. “Buy this for your other bitches, or just for me?”

Jeongguk smirks. “Nah, they got the banana one.”

“I thought you hated that fragrance.”

“That’s why they have it and not you,” he says simply. You don’t know whether or not the reply satisfies you. For one, it tells you that you’re his favourite, but it also tells you that he is indeed fucking other girls, which is something you were never totally thrilled to accept or believe. It conflicts you, to the point where you’re silent as he washes your hair.

“What?” Jeongguk asks finally, pulling at your head and half forcing your face to him. “You mad?”

“No,” you reply. “You done with my hair?”

He lets go, “Yeah. Just rinse it out.”

You do that, staring at the little drops of water on the shower door. Jeongguk sighs and switches positions with you, staring at your shoulders as you wash the shampoo out.

“Are you really mad?” he asks.

You sigh, “I’m not mad, Jeongguk.” You peer at him, “promise.”

“Bullshit,” he exclaims, like he’s tired. “I thought you knew I saw other people.”

“I did,” you lie. “It’s fine, really. I’m not, like, judging you for it.”

“Why’s it feel like you kind of are?” Jeongguk asks in response.

You shrug, “You tell me.”

The bathroom’s cold as the shower switches off and Jeongguk leaves first, stepping into the living room with the towel around his waist as you get dressed into a gown in the bathroom.

He looks over his shoulder at you as you exit, turning off the light and looking for your clothes around the room. He tugs, sick and frowning, and so he slowly moves for you across the bedroom. As you’re looking down at your clothes curled up on the chair by his drawers, Jeongguk snakes his arms around your waist from behind and slowly brings you up against him.

You close your eyes, as if to prevent yourself from saying something, and he kisses behind your ear. “I didn’t mean to make you unhappy, baby.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him.

“You know you’re a bad liar,” he mutters. “That’s why you’ll be a good journalist, you’re too good at telling the truth.” You resign, knowing he’s said this speech before. “You can be honest with me.”

You turn in his arms. “Look. I’m not mad. Mad’s not the word. Disappointed, maybe, but life is full of disappointments, you know? I mean. I don’t know...I moved across the city just to live next to you because you asked me to, I thought it could be easier for us to both get what we want out of each other and so it just...kind of sucks that you need other people? It’s like, am I not filling the gaps enough? I thought sugar daddies only had one baby at a time, I thought they were lonely old men.”

“Do I look old to you?” Jeongguk asks, missing the point. Only he knows the point. “And, look. You bring out the best in me. Just look at me.”

“I am looking at you, Guk,” you lament, “but I just see you, and this guy who wants more than he has. It’s sucky, for me, I guess.”

He thinks on that for a second. “You’re not just a baby for me, you know that, I know that, everybody knows that. I don’t even pay you when we see each other anymore, you can’t tell me that’s the same thing we expected to have a few months ago, right?”

“Right, but-”

“But, what?” he questions. “I’m here right now because I chose to be, and because being with you just feels...natural, I guess. I don’t like just calling you to fuck for five minutes because I got stressed out at work. You’re more than that to me.”

It struggles to settle in your stomach, and he stares down at you almost pleadingly. “You know that. You do, come on.”

“Baby...Look. If I was natural, and if I was more to you than a baby, then you wouldn’t need to be calling other people when you’re stressed. If you really needed me, you’d need me. It’s that simple.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, letting go, “It’s not that simple.”

“No, Guk, it is that simple,” you murmur. You smile at him, because you don’t want him to feel too bad about it. He simply stares at you, saying nothing as you look back at your clothes. “I have class tomorrow, so I’m gonna head home.”

He says nothing.

“Good night, Guk,” you call from the front door a few minutes later. He doesn’t reply, and the silence does it for him.

#took too long im sowwy #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 10- Recipe for Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 2,064

Summary: You and Bucky decide to host dinner for your friends and afterwards you get the best idea ever...

Author’s Note: Thank you all so very much for sticking with me and continuing to read! This has really been such an escape for me and I can never thank you enough for reading and being so kind and supportive. Thank you all for reading and much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: sweet fluff, soft smut, fluffersmut, fun with friends :) 

Previous Chapters 

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers 

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love

Chapter 9: Pour in onto the Page

The rest of the night goes on in a blur of soft touches, heated kisses and whispered, “I love yous.” Now that the words are out it’s as if neither of you have anything else to say. The uber ride back to Manhattan is as sugary sweet as the cotton candy you’re licking off your fingers. “Oh my god, Bucky! I forgot how good this stuff is!” you exclaim as you pull off another chunk of the spun sugar. “I know!” Bucky replies, kissing some melting pink sugar off your lips.

You giggle, trying to refrain from poking him with your sticky fingers. “Sweetheart, if you get that sticky crap stuck in my hair, we’re gonna have a problem.” Your fingers reach toward him as you hold back laughter. Bucky quickly grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth, slowly sucking the sugar off the tip of each finger. “I wish we were home already,” you breathe out.

When you finally fall through the door of your apartment, you’re surprised you’re still dressed, Bucky’s hands groping you from the moment you got out of the uber. He walks you backward until you bump the small island in your kitchen, his arms lifting you up and sitting you on the countertop. Your hands card through his hair as he kneels between your legs, pushing up the skirt of your dress.

His eyes watch you as he trails kisses up your thigh, his soft hair slipping through your fingers as you try to find a hold on something. With the languid movements of his tongue he takes you apart, your body completely sated as he stands to unzip his jeans. You waste no time, helping him get them to the floor.

He enters you slowly and you feel every inch, his forehead pressed to yours while you relish in the feeling of each other. The lights from the city cast a soft glow on your skin as Bucky’s hands and mouth explore every inch with a newfound reverence.  It isn’t long before you come undone, his name a quiet plea falling from your lips.  

The next morning you find the other side of the bed empty, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air. With a satisfied hum you throw off the covers, covering your nakedness with Bucky’s shirt. “Do you always walk around shirtless?” you ask as you enter the kitchen, Bucky’s back to you as he stands over the coffee pot.

“Are you complaining,” he croons, throwing you a look over his shoulder. “Not at all,” you say, walking over and wrapping your arms around his waist. “That smells so good! I’m so glad someone is finally using the coffee pot. I usually just get it from the café down the street.” He turns and hands you a steaming cup, asking, “you mean the little spot on West 22nd and 9th Ave?” You nod as you take your first sip, moaning at the taste.

“It’s going out of business!” You nearly spit out the delicious coffee, “WHAT?” Bucky frowns, holding you against his chest, “yeah, the new Starbucks that opened nearby is killing them.” Now it’s your turn to frown, the realization you may have to start brewing your own coffee or paying way too much for one making you angry. You take another sip, eyeing Bucky over the mug, “that’s awful. I really liked that place!”

Kissing the top of your head he says assuredly, “you have me and since you seem to approve of my coffee making skills, I think you’ll manage.” With a contented smile you reach behind him for your cookie tin, picking it up and noticing it feels way too light. “Bucky. Did you eat the last of the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?”

Hanging his head, he doesn’t answer but it’s all the confirmation you need. “I can’t believe you didn’t even leave me one!” He tries to look sheepish but fails terribly as he checks for crumbs along his mouth. “Well, they were amazing! And I was hungry this morning!” he says in defense. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that” you say. He takes your unfinished coffee from your hands and places in on the counter. “Actually, I’m the lucky one and I love you too,” he says, before stopping any further conversation with his lips on yours.

You spend Sunday afternoon at the bookshop with Bucky, organizing some shelves and just enjoying each other’s company. As per her usual Sunday visit, Grandma Betty strolls in shortly after lunch, her smile bright at the sight of you both. “Look at you two. You’re practically glowing today! I knew a night out would be good for my boy. Was it as fun as you remembered?”

Bucky sends a heart stopping smile your way before launching into a full recap of your night and how perfect it was. Grandma leaves with a smile that matches yours and a promise of some of your now famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.

After the visit you can tell that Bucky’s mood has dampened slightly, his teeth working over his bottom lip and his forehead creased in thought. “Hey baby, you think Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam would want to come over for dinner next weekend? Maybe we can do it early before you guys have to be at the bar?” His spirits seem to lift at the idea, and he sends out a text to see if everyone is available.

Once your plans are made and you all settle on a time you ask him, “what do I make for dessert?” He laughs, raising his brow before he speaks. You cut him off, “I’m not making you any more of those cookies. In fact, I’m going to make a whole batch, give them all to your grandma and you can’t have any!” He pretends to pout which makes you laugh, his antics hard to resist. “I’ll bake something new! A surprise!” you exclaim, winking his way.

You spend almost every weeknight at Bucky’s apartment, except for Wednesday night because Nat insists she needs some girl time. “So. Does it feel different now that you guys said I love you?” she asks, sitting on the couch with her legs stretched out over yours while sipping her wine. “It just feels right. I can’t really explain it. It all seems so cliché when I really think about it, but I’ve also not felt surer about anything before.”

Nat tilts her head in understanding, her hand reaching over to squeeze yours. “I get it. I’m so happy for you.” With another sip of your wine you reply, “thanks, I love you. Now stop stalling and tell me about your weekend with Sam!” She giggles and you squeal when you see a light blush creep over her cheeks. “OH MY GOD! WELL??” She kicks you with her foot, scowling before she says, “it’s the wine! I swear!” You laugh, knowing full well she’s full of shit. “Yea right. You can’t fool me. SPILL IT!”

Saturday morning rolls around and you and Bucky leave his apartment together, you’re heading out for baking supplies and Bucky heading to the bookshop to open and prepare for his early departure. “If you need me to pick anything up on my way back just let me know, doll. I can easily make a stop.” You pepper his cheek with kisses, saying thank you in between before planting a good one on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, watching you walk down the street until you’re out of his sight.

You decide on making a coconut cream pie for dessert, checking beforehand that everyone is a fan of the fruit. It’s the first time you’re making it and you’re both excited and nervous. Once you have everything you need you head back to Bucky’s and start preparing, making sure to send him plenty of silly texts as you bake. Thankfully the two of you had made a sauce and breaded chicken cutlets the night before so all that had to be done other than the pie was frying up the cutlets and cooking the pasta.

Bucky arrives home right on time. “Wow. It smells amazing in here baby.” He gives you a tight hug, picking you up off your feet and kissing you soundly before running off to take a quick shower. Once he’s clean and ready you finish up the cooking and put the pie in the oven. Bucky sets the table and you prepare some small appetizers.

Steve and Peggy arrive first, and Peggy joins you in the kitchen for some gossiping and wine. You look over her shoulder to see Bucky and Steve on the couch plowing through the snacks. “Hey boys! Can you please try to save some for Nat and Sam??” They both look up guiltily, trying to hide their mouthfuls of food. “Sorry,” they mumble simultaneously.

Luckily, Sam and Nat show up only moments later and Sam can snag a few bites. Dinner goes off without a hitch and everyone sits with their glass of wine while they wait for dessert. “Nat has been going on and on about y/n’s baking all week! I can’t wait to eat this pie!” Sam shouts. “I know, Bucky said her cookies are better than my mom’s!” Steve chimes in, raising his eyebrows.

Everyone looks at Steve in shock, their mouths hanging open. “What the heck guys?” you say as you walk to the table holding the pie. “What happened?” Steve quickly speaks up, “nothing y/n! We were just talking about how good your baking is. That looks amazing!” You throw them a knowing smirk and put the pie on the table, serving a slice to everyone.

Sam shovels in a giant bite, moaning around the fork. “Holy cow, this is incredible y/n!” Steve follows suit, closing his eyes and mumbling something about heaven while he chews. Bucky looks up and gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling as he mouths “I love you.”

Before you can answer him Sam snorts, pulling your attention away as you watch him point and laugh. “Jeez, you two are sweeter than this pie.” You scowl at him and try to hold back your laughter but fail miserably when Nat chimes in and says, “that’s the best you could do. Really?” Everyone starts laughing and Bucky pulls you into his lap, feeding you a piece of the pie. “Wow. It really did come good,” you say, only loud enough for him to hear.

While everyone continues to eat Bucky makes some coffee, the smell drifting through the small apartment and perking everyone up. The rest of the evening goes by fast and before you know it, Bucky and Sam must leave for the bar. Bucky tries to help you clean up, but you shoo him out, looking forward to a little alone time with Peggy and Nat. “It’s fine Buck, don’t worry! We can definitely handle this!”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to clean up, afterwards getting comfy on the couch with a glass of wine. You hang out for another couple of hours before the yawning starts, the wine and good food catching up to all of you. “Thank you so much for coming, this was so fun!” They enthusiastically agree, telling you for the hundredth time how delicious the pie was.

An hour later you’re in the bath, relaxing under the bubbles and teasing Bucky by sending him sexy pictures. ‘Doll, this is so unfair…I know what’s under those bubbles and I want some.’ You giggle, placing your phone safely on the towel next to the tub. Grabbing the plate of pie you brought into the bath you take a bite, savoring every flavor as it swirls over your tongue. You mentally give yourself props, loving how much everyone praised your baking abilities.

Finishing the last bite, your eyes suddenly go wide, and you blurt out, “that’s it!!!” You drop the empty dish to the floor and grab your phone, trying to text Bucky as quickly as possible. “Shit, shit, shit!” you curse at your slippery fingers, wiping them off on the towel. ‘BUCKY! I KNOW HOW TO SAVE THE BOOKSHOP!’ The text goes through and you smile to yourself, excitement coursing through you while you wait for his reply.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hailmary-yramliah @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @hiddles-rose @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @scarletsoldierrr @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky @throwmyheartawayagain @flyawaybay @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods​ @inflxmes 

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes bookshop au #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes au #bookshop!bucky au #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky au #bucky fluff #bucky smut #bartender!bucky au #bartender!bucky x reader #bartender!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #top shelf #top shelf chapter 10

[for-fucks-sake-h]

As You Held Onto Me - Four

a/n: Hello! I don’t have much to say, other than a HUGE thank you to my sweet friends @oh-honey-styles​ and @andwhenshesays​ for inspiring me to finish this story and being genuinely beautiful people that I feel lucky to know. I hope you all like it. Enjoy! x  

CATCH UP ON PREVIOUS PARTS HERE 

Rated: M, mature // Word Count: 5.7k 

Sometimes, love can feel like it’s everything. And sometimes, we hope it can be.

***

- Wednesday, December 24, 2017 -

“Goodnight, loves! See you in the morning,” Anne called with a kind smile from across the room as you and Harry made your way up the stairs of his childhood home.  

After a night of delicious food, games and wonderful company, Harry called it a night, whispering in your ear that he was ready to spend time with just you.  So you bid your goodnights to his family, taking your empty hot chocolate mugs to the dishwasher before ascending the stairs with smiles on your faces.    

His old bedroom looked the same; posters on the walls of his favorite bands, a dark oak desk in one corner with knick-knacks and books and a small reading lamp, an old striped chair tucked beside it, and his bed in the center below a large window with a soft duvet and blankets neatly placed on top.  It smelled like cinnamon from the candle he had lit earlier in the day and the room was dimly lit from the brightly shining moon.  

“I love your family,” you whispered with a smile as you bent down to fish one of his old tee shirts from your shared luggage.  

He sat on the end of the bed, slipping his socks off and tossing them next to the chair in what would be deemed your ‘dirty pile’.  You watched him reach behind his neck to tug his hoodie over his head, his hair sticking up from the static.  He was quiet for a moment, simply watching you shimmy out of your clothes and bra, shrugging the shirt on and pulling it down over your underwear.  He leaned up to slip his sweatpants off, kicking them over to the pile before his fingers encased yours, tugging you to stand between his legs.      

Your hands rested on his shoulders, his worn tee shirt feeling exceedingly soft beneath your palms as he trailed his fingers up and down your bare legs.  

“I love you,” he whispered with his face tilted up to yours as his fingers drew designs on your thighs.  

You ran your hand up his neck to cup his face, your thumb brushing the soft, warm skin of his cheek. His eyes were heavy; fluttering softly at your touch before you leaned in to press your lips to his.  You could feel his sigh rather than hear it, only a soft exhale as you gently sucked his top lip.  

Your other hand lifted to scratch the back of his head as your mouths slowly parted, savoring his taste until the very last second.  You rested your forehead against his, breathing in the faint smell of his cologne and fresh linen scent of the detergent he loved.  It wasn’t the first Christmas you spent together, or even the first spent at his family's home, but it felt special in its own way.  

“Come on,” you nudged your noses together, “you know they’re gonna be up early.”

He breathed a soft laugh, pulling himself to slide up the bed and pull the covers down for you.  You crawled up the bed, tucking yourself beneath the cold sheets to snuggle in next to him.  He pulled you closer immediately, situating yourselves until you were laying on your sides, sharing his pillow, legs tangled. His hand rested on your hip as yours squeezed his shirt in the center of his chest.  

You could feel his breath tickle across your lips, your noses nearly touching. Circles were drawn into your skin again, just above your underwear. His warmth encompassed you beneath the sheets the same way his soul did.  You could have ten thousand of those moments and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.  

He kissed you sweetly, his lips slow and drawn out as they teased and sucked yours. His hand squeezed your hip, pulling you even closer.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling yourself with him as much as you coud, always wanting to be closer.  Even when he was inside you, as close to you as humanly possible, you wanted more.  

“Marry me,” he breathed against your mouth. You pulled your head back enough to find his eyes still closed, admiring the way they opened slowly to peer into yours. “Was gonna ask during presents,” he murmured before chuckling slightly, “had a whole plan.”  

Your brows creased, endeared, before smiling. “What changed?”

His hand lifted to cup your cheek, his fingers tightly gripping the back of your neck.  “Just decided I only wanna share this with you.”  

Your lips pouted slightly as warmth burst from your heart to travel throughout your entire body.  You kissed him fully, his tongue smoothing over yours as he hummed.  

He giggled against your lips. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeated as you moved to smother your lips across his cheek and jaw.

He tucked his face into your neck, hugging you so tight you could feel the patter of his heart against his ribs.  His lips sucked soft kisses into your skin, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.  He kissed his way back to your mouth, pressing one last deep kiss to your lips, drinking you in slowly before peeling his body away from yours.  

You wiped the corners of your teary eyes as he leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage through a discreetly tucked away duffle bag that he had apparently been hiding.  Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, your cheeks warm and your skin prickling as he turned back towards you with a closed fist.  

You sat up with him, both of you crossing your legs, sitting face to face in the center of his childhood bed.  

He fixed the ring between his first finger and thumb before extending his shaky hand out to you.  It sparkled against the moonlight and the only thing you could think was how much you loved him.  How often you thought about this moment, how often you both had talked about it, how happy you were that him becoming your forever was a reality.

You extended your hand as you sniffled, giggling with him as he slid the ring on, taking approximately five seconds to admire it on your finger before launching yourself into him.  

“I promise I’ll love you forever,” he whispered into your hair, emotion thick in his throat as he pulled you closer.  

“I love you so much,” you giggled as you fell back onto the bed with your arms tightly wrapped around one another.  

Kisses were peppered against warm skin. Clothes were eagerly pulled off.  He pushed into you slowly, promising that he could be quiet.  Every movement was drawn out, until you were tensing around him with your mouths pathetically attempting to stifle your moans. And he was following right behind you, his hips stuttering into yours as murmurs of I love you fell into your mouth to slip down your throat and find their way to your heart.  

***

- Friday, June 30, 2020 -

You entered your empty home, holding onto the door frame to slip your shoes off as your exhaustion set in. All you were looking forward to was a long, hot shower after a day from hell at the hospital. You knew these days were part of the job description but it never made it any easier.  

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way through the dark, dodging kitchen counters and furniture from memory before making your way upstairs.  The sensored hallway night light came on as you turned the corner into your bedroom, stripping off your scrubs quickly and tossing them into the hamper.  You turned the ensuite’s dimmer light switch to half way, the anticipation of the water pressure on your shoulders already easing your low mood.    

After adjusting the shower temperature, you lit the lavender candle you kept on the counter, turned on the bluetooth speaker and pressed play for The Neighbourhood’s ‘I Love You.’ album.

Eagerly stepping into the steam, you tipped your head back as you let the warm water encase you, sending chills across your skin. You took your time, washing with a strawberry body wash and mint shampoo until your skin was raw and your head felt squeaky clean.  

You lathered yourself in lotion and dressed in your coziest, oversized sweatshirt before turning your night stand lamp on and slipping into bed.  It was only eight o'clock yet you felt like it was the middle of the night with how tired you were.  You settled in, ready to read a few chapters of your book, but then suddenly lips softly grazing your temple stirred you awake.  

“Shh, don’t have to get up.”  The husky sentiment was whispered into the back of your neck as a warm palm ran down the sleeve of your sweatshirt.    

He pulled you closer, his front curving against your back, his hand sliding down to rest on your belly.  The hair of his bare legs tickled yours as he breathed you in, inhaling where his face was tucked into your hair.  

You reached down to hold to the back of his hand as you arched your back in a stretch before whispering, “What time is it?”

“Half nine,” he spoke against the back of your head, his lips leaving a soft kiss to your hair.  

You hummed, pushing yourself back against him more. “Long shoot,” you stated simply.      

“Unbearably long,” he chuckled in agreement, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “How was your day?”

“Unbearably long,” you repeated.  

“You okay? Feel okay?” His tone was soft, his voice low and deep with a tinge of concern.  

“Yeah, just tired. Took a long shower,” you assured him as you intertwined your ankles.  

“And used my shampoo,” he teased as he sniffed your hair again with a deep inhale.  

“It’s growing on me,” you laughed softly, “and doesn’t make me wanna throw up anymore.”  

“That’s good,” he hummed, stroking his palm over your round belly.  “Ah, there she is.”  You could hear his smile as he pressed his face into your neck more. “Was wondering if she was awake.”  

“Always wakes up when she hears your voice,” you spoke softly.  

Another soft kick had him stilling his hand against you to feel your baby greet him.  It wasn’t a lie, every time she heard the deep timber of his voice she moved in search of the warm palm that typically rested on your growing belly.  

“Only three more months,” he whispered after a while, fingers gently pressing into your skin.  

“Can’t wait,” you smiled as you tried to absorb every fiber of love his palm on your belly filled you with.

***  

You blinked your eyes a few times, the morning sun slowly pulling you from sleep the only way it should on a Saturday morning.  

You were in the same exact position from the night before, Harry tucked up behind you with his arm draped over your waist.  You slept like a rock, thankful that you were still peacefully sleeping through the night. From what you’d read, the third trimester only got more and more uncomfortable.  

All in all, your pregnancy had been smooth thus far. Your hematologist got you on an injection blood thinner as soon as you conceived, and by the end of the first week you were a pro at giving yourself the shot every night, six o’clock on the dot.  Granted, the bottom of your belly and hips were tender and bruised and oftentimes you had to sneak into the bathroom wherever you were to do it, but it was a price you decided was worth having to pay for a baby at the end of nine months.    

Aside from that, you had pretty standard side effects. The thought of chicken made you gag for a while, you’d never wanted gushers and fruit roll ups more often in your life, and you had a bad case of nausea that seemed to linger longer than the typical first trimester mark, only easing up in the last week or so.  Your nails and hair were growing like crazy, you were tired a lot of the time and randomly became out of breath if you walked too fast, but you and your baby were healthy, and that was all you could ask for.  

Harry was supportive in every way he could be, and you couldn’t say you were surprised.  He held your hand when you needed it, rubbed your aching feet, talked you down when your anxiety of having another miscarriage became too much, and loved you unconditionally throughout.  

When you were young, you used to wonder what your life would be like; what your future spouse would be like. You hoped he was kind and sweet, had a good sense of humor, maybe could cook. You didn’t realize everything that entailed being a good partner and how easily Harry exceeded any and all expectations.  After everything you’d been through together, you felt overwhelmingly lucky to have him by your side.  

His thigh twitching where it rested between your legs pulled you from your thoughts. He was most likely going to stir from his sleep soon, as if his body could sense when you were awake, pulling him from his dreams to check on you. And just as the thought crossed your mind, his hand flexed against your belly as he pulled in a deep breath from where his face was tucked against your shoulder blade.  

“Morning,” he rasped against your back.

The deep tone of his voice seeped into your sweatshirt to send a chill directly down your spine. He pulled you in, always seemingly wanting you closer, pushing his leg between yours more.  It was like electricity blew through you at the simple gesture, as if he hadn’t done it a million times before in your time together. You couldn’t explain it if you tried, but heat pooled in your stomach, fluttering up into your belly as you arched against him more.  

“Oop,” he breathed as your ass pressed into his groin.  

You could feel where his length rested on his thigh, twitching eagerly at the small contact. But it was enough to have him squeezing your hip and pulling you against him more, hips flexing into you.  

Everything was slow; his hand pulling the shoulder of your sweatshirt down to press his lips to your skin, his hips rolling against you longingly, his hands gripping you feverently.  His breath came in small puffs, increasing as his cock throbbed. He pressed his thigh against your core, moaning softly at the dampness of your slit. Your skin felt like it was on fire, need burning deep in your belly.  

He was sucking marks into the skin of your neck, gripping your hip harshly as his length tucked perfectly between your ass cheeks, pressing his thigh against you even more.  He breathed your name softly, his hand trailing down your thigh just to travel back up to grip your waist under your sweatshirt.  

“I’m so hot,” you breathed.  

“Fuck, me too,” he moaned softly before sucking the spot where your shoulder met your neck.  

“No really,” you chuckled, “I need to take this off.”  You motioned to your sweatshirt, tugging on the bottom as an endearing oh fell from Harry’s lips.  

He helped pull it over your head, the cool air of the bedroom tickling your skin as he tossed it over your bed.  

“Better?” He questioned, his hand coming up to hold your waist, his fingers gripping just below your breast as his warm chest pressed against your back.  

“Mhm,” you nodded as he tucked his other arm back under your neck, immediately pulling your fingers with his to intertwine them and extend your arms across your mattress.  

Your other hand reached behind you, fingers gripping his soft hip as he flexed against you again.  His mouth was hot and heavy on your neck, eagerly nipping and licking your tingling skin. His breathing was ragged and shaky as he pressed his hard length against you, effectively pulling a sigh from your lips.  

His hot palm slipped down your side until it rested over the center of your belly, pausing for a beat before traveling down to your core.  He cupped you softly, his touch almost ticklish in the way his fingers grazed your lips.  

“Want you,” he breathed as he tucked his middle finger into your slit.  

Your head tipped back at the contact, his open mouth grazing your neck. Circles were pressed into your clit, three slow passes before he was dipping inside to his first knuckle.  He groaned softly at the feeling of your arousal pooling at your entrance.  

“You should fuck me,” you murmured.  

“Should I?”  You could hear the faint smirk pulling at his lips as he brought your wetness to your clit, his circles torturously slow.  

“Mhm,” you smiled as you arched your hips into his.  

His mouth sucked a spot on the back of your shoulder, the fingers intertwined with yours squeezing slightly as his other hand moved up your mound, his wet fingers leaving a trail on your skin.  You could feel him tugging his boxers down, your stomach twisting with desire. It came over you so quickly, your need to be close to him.  Maybe it wasn’t as often as it was in the past, especially as of late. But when it hit you, it was still so strong.  

“Want me?”  He spoke into your shoulder blade, his warm breath erupting goosebumps across your skin.  

You moaned softly when he grazed the tip of his cock between your legs, hard and ready and waiting for you.  

“So bad,” you spread your legs for him, your top knee bending further away to allow him access to your core.  

You both moaned as he eased into you slowly. Your mouth fell open in pleasure as your core spasmed around his head.  It wasn’t one full push, but small teasing thrusts as he slowly gave you inch after inch.  He was panting behind you, soft little mewls of breath as his hand dug into the skin of your hip until his pelvis met your ass, his length pressing deep inside you.  

He was completely still aside from his lips pressing kiss after kiss to your skin.  Your back, your shoulder, your neck, over and over again.  

“H,” you breathed when his hips withdrew before pressing back into you slowly. Fire licked up your spine, your hand flexing in his as your other gripped the sheets in a fist.

He moaned softly before murmuring into your neck, “It’s good, yeah?”    

His pace was steady, but slow in the best kind of way. The kind that set fire under your skin and would pull an orgasm from you gradually, the build up just as delicious as the explosion. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge and pulse of his cock as he rolled his hips into yours.  It was the way morning sex was supposed to be, deep and reaching, with hushed moans and sluggish limbs, warm skin and gripping hands.  

“Oh my god...” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, his thrusts reaching the deepest parts of you.    

He moaned before sinking his teeth into the top of your shoulder. His hand left your hip to reach for your wrist and push your hand between your legs. “Touch yourself,” he instructed softly as he pressed his hand over top of yours, effectively pushing your fingers against your clit. “Want you to come.”  

“Fuck,” you breathed as your fingers matched his pace, slow circles against your clit that only intestified his thrusts.  

His hand smoothed up your side until he could wrap his arm around your waist, his arm perfectly draped over the top of your belly.  His fingers tucked between your side and the mattress, gripping your soft skin as his mouth found your neck once more. For how slow and lazy his thrusts were, his lips were harsh in comparison, no doubt leaving marks on the skin of your shoulder and back for days to come.  For every bite, he soothed his tongue over the spot, and every strong suck received an even softer kiss.  And he did it as often as he could — as often as his body would allow — when he wasn’t moaning low in his throat from the pleasure swirling in his stomach.  

“Mhm, yeah,” he spurred you on when your core tightened around him.  It felt like you were vibrating with pleasure, like every fiber of your being was electrified and blazing under your skin.  

“You feel so good,” you whined into the pillow, your fingers picking up pace against your sensitive clit.  You were so close, you could feel your orgasm swimming in the pit of your stomach just waiting to burst.  

His hand slid across your belly to grip harshly to your hip, pulling you back on his cock the tiniest bit. But it was enough to have you choking back a moan as his length reached even deeper inside you. It still surprised you after so much time just how full he could make you feel.  

“Come on,” he groaned as his hips slapped into yours with a little more power, his fingers turning white against your skin.

There was a part of you that hoped he left bruises. You couldn’t help but feel like your body looked prettier with remnants of his love sprinkled across it.    

“Oh god, shit,” you gasped as your orgasm rolled throughout your entire body.  It spilled out of you slowly, erupting under your skin to crawl throughout your limbs.  It was so slow, every wave taking its time to crash over your head and pull you under.  

“Yes, yes, yes,” Harry groaned roughly, his lips catching on your skin with each desperate plea as he came, pumping his hips into you as long as he could handle.  Until he was so sensitive that tears burned his eyes and he had no choice but to still inside you. “God, you’re fucking made for me.”  His admission was so breathy it made your core clench around him tighter, his passion fluttering directly from his heart to yours.        

You were panting wildly, your mouth finding the inside of his bicep to place a sucking kiss to his hot skin.  Your legs felt like they were vibrating as he pulled out of you so slowly, making a chill roll down your spine at the emptiness.      

You leaned back against him more but shifted to your back when he disconnected your hands and moved out from behind you. He was kneeling above you, spreading your legs open to slot himself between them.  

“Har,” you breathed as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the bottom of your belly.  

“Need one more,” he murmured against your belly before quickly moving down to swipe a strong pass of his tongue from your dripping core up to your clit.  

You released a low, heady moan from the back of your throat at the contact, your legs immediately snapping closed around his head.  He was quick to open them again, his palms burning hot against the soft skin of your inner thighs as he spread you open for him, lapping at your sensitive clit like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do.  

Your hands carded through his hair, gripping tightly as he sucked and licked between your folds.  The thought of him tasting both of you had your mind reeling. His moans were thick and deep as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking into you with fever as he squeezed your thighs while pressing them into the mattress.  

When he licked back up to your clit, catching it lightly with his teeth before trilling his tongue against it, you couldn’t help your head from flinging back into the pillows with a low moan of his name. Your moans and pants only egged him on; made him swirl his tongue over you before suctioning his mouth on your clit.  And all it took was a rough roll of his tongue before you were whimpering through your release and coating his chin in your juices.  

His moans only intensified your pleasure, both from the vibrations from his mouth and how much he was enjoying himself.  You knew he loved it, yet it always made your skin crawl with arousal seeing just how much he seemed to get out of making you feel good.  It was like he was addicted to it, always making sure you were completely spent before he could feel satisfied.

You tugged on his hair, closing your knees around his head once more.  To say you were sensitive would be the greatest understatement.  Sparks were still bouncing off your skin as you started to come down, your chest rising and falling harshly as you caught your breath.  

Harry eased up, leaning up to press a kiss to your mound, and then the inside of your thigh, before he crawled up your body to lay beside you.  His hand rested on your belly as his mouth found yours, both your taste and his invading your heightened senses when his tongue passed yours in a smooth glide.      

“Loved every second of that,” he murmured once he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers drawing odd shapes across the skin of your stomach.  

You turned onto your side, keeping your face close to his as you tucked some of his hair behind his ear.  “I missed this,” you admitted softly as you lightly scratched down his neck.  

“What, love?”  

“Just waking up like this. Feeling like everything is easy,” you shrugged slightly.  

He was quiet for a moment, his hand stroking up and down your side before settling on your waist.  “Where’s this coming from?”  

You hesitated because you really weren’t sure.  Maybe it was the orgasms, maybe that was just your excuse. But you couldn’t help thinking how much you loved being close to him, and how often you hadn’t felt close to him over the last couple years. And how it had been your own doing.  

“I don’t know,” you brushed your noses together softly. “Just ignore me.”  

“Hm, can’t do that,” he pulled you closer, your belly pressing into his as he wrapped his arm around you.  He danced his fingers up and down your spine soothingly as he continued, “You can always talk to me.”  

“I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this,” you shook your head against his as you kept your eyes closed.  

He was quiet as he waited for you to open up, letting you get there on your own.  He was good at that; letting you gather yourself and your thoughts for as long as you needed without pressing you.  He was always so patient and accepting and encouraging and you loved him so much for it.  

“You’re gonna be a really good dad H,” you chose to say.  

“And you’re gonna be a great mom,” he replied without missing a beat.    

His fingers continuously stroked against your skin, easing you in a way you probably couldn't even describe.  It was like he always knew what you needed, and gave it freely without question.  

You nodded against his forehead slightly before pulling your head back to look at him.  His hair was a mess above him, stretching out wildly across the pillow.  His cheek had the slightest indent from his pillow still with the prettiest rosy tinge. His eyes were sleepy and his lips were puffy, everything about him, from his face to his soul, was inviting.  

“Are you scared?” You asked quietly as you pet the back of his neck.  

His eyes fluttered, maybe at your touch or maybe at your question.  “Of course,” he exhaled, “think that’s normal.”  

“I’m scared,” you admitted, almost ashamed.  

“What are you afraid of?”  

“Everything,” you breathed, “I’m still afraid something bad could happen.” You shook your head, knowing full well that Harry knew what you meant just by the sad look on his face. “I’m afraid there’ll be a complication in delivery because of all these blood thinners.”  Your eyes danced across his features, noticing the way his brows furrowed the tiniest bit.  You searched his eyes for a moment, the pale green accentuated by the morning light. “I’m afraid... I’m afraid I won’t be any good at it,” you sighed, your own eyebrows crinkling with emotion.  

“Baby,” he exhaled as his hand came up to cup the side of your neck.  

Your eyes flicked over his face for a moment, concern etched into every line.  “I haven’t been thinking about it a lot,” you added quickly, knowing how important it was to him for you to be honest about how you were feeling. “But I can’t help it sometimes, you know? I don’t know,” you continued after a beat, “we’re getting closer and I guess I’m just getting nervous,” you rushed, guilt plaguing your confession. “I don’t wanna worry you.”  

“Love,” he started slowly, drawing the word out like a violins final note. “You gotta stop worrying about worrying me.  That’s not how this works. Let me comfort you. Let me try to at least help ease your mind.”  

You looked back at this man, with his pleading eyes and warm heart, and could physically feel your anxiety easing, and he hadn’t even said anything yet.  It was just him.  There was no other way to describe the way he made you feel just with a look, just with his eyes on yours.  

His thumb brushed across your cheek tenderly as he spoke, “Sobel knows what he’s doing, he’ll make sure everything goes smoothly in delivery.  And I’ll be holding your hand the entire time. Please try not to worry about that.”  His eyes flicked up as he smoothed the hair at the top of your head, his gaze following his movements as he brought his palm back to your cheek before finding your eyes once more. “And you’re going to be an amazing mom. I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else.  You have to know that.”  

You smiled slightly as your eyes brimmed, amazed at how you really could feel better just by listening to him talk.  Harry quickly swept away the single tear that slipped down your cheek.  

“You’re biased,” you mumble before kissing him softly.  

His fingers tightened on the back of your neck as his mouth moved over yours, lips sucking your bottom lip in a savory kiss.  “A little,” he smiled against your mouth, “But I’m right too.”  

You breathed a laugh as you threaded your fingers through his soft hair, already feeling more at ease. He always knew how to make you feel better. It was almost masochistic, the way you tended to keep things to yourself when you knew if you just talked it out, you’d feel better.  

And you did feel better.  Harry always had a way of not dragging things out.  He was the perfect oxymoron of support and relief.  

“We’re gonna figure everything out together,” he added before pressing a kiss to your forehead.  

You tucked your face into his neck, inhaling against his heated skin as he wrapped his arms around you.  “I love you,” you murmured into his neck.  

A firm kick ricocheted against your skin so suddenly it had Harry chuckling. “There she is,” he giggled excitedly. “Nice of you to join us love,” he spoke down to your belly, slipping down the mattress to press his lips right above your belly button.  “Knew we were talking about you, huh?”  

You laughed softly as he peppered kisses to your belly, receiving pleased little kicks in return.  

“She must be a narcissist like her dad,” you said as you scratched his head fondly.  

“Your mom’s just mad that you like me more,” he spoke directly against the skin of your stomach, receiving another soft kick right against his lips. His hand smoothed over your hip, fingers rubbing into your lower back. “It’s crazy,” he looked up at you with bright eyes and a sweet smile, “it’s like she knows exactly where I am.”  

You grinned down at him, watching as he went back to kissing and talking to your stomach. It was moments like these that made you even more excited to meet this little human, to hold her in your arms and kiss her little nose, to watch Harry love her.  

You were counting down the days, and even though you weren't out of the woods yet, you were hopeful; choosing to remain positive that everything was going to turn out okay.  

***

- Tuesday, September 28, 2020 -

You kissed Harry goodbye early that morning and headed to work for your only twelve hour shift of the week.

You were due in a couple weeks and decided it would be best if you knocked your hours down to one shift a week. Your last trimester had been good, uneventful in surprises from week to week. It was exhausting though and your body ached daily. But you couldn’t just sit home until you delivered, so one shift a week would have to be enough.

As soon as you opened your eyes that morning, a faint pain throbbed in your lower back. It seemed like a new sore spot popped up every day. But you powered through, knowing any pain you endured would be worth it in the end.

You were nearly an hour into your shift, having just finished your rounds and heading to the nurses station to update charts.

“You okay?” Your coworker Jess asked with a chuckle.

You practically fell into your chair, breathing heavily while your back ached, feeling like it was on fire.  You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath, laying a hand over your chest to feel the frantic beat of your heart.

“YN?”

The pain in your back traveled to your stomach; sharp and pungent, provoking a small whine to fall from your lips.

“Something’s wrong,” you gasped as another sharp pain shot through the lowest part of your belly.

“Okay, deep breaths,” Jess eased as she kneeled next to you, blindly reaching up on your desk to grab your phone. “Are you having a contraction?”

“No, no,” you repeated as you tried to settle your breath and ignore the tears burning your eyes.

Your vision went spotty as you keeled over in pain, your hands gripping your belly. You could hear Jess calling for Dr. Sobel, her calm voice repeating that everything was going to be okay.

“Call Harry,” you breathed.

And then everything went black.

***

To anyone that has suffered from infertility or miscarriage... I’m so sorry.  Please know that you are not alone.  I love you, and I hope you get your rainbow soon.    

Thank you for reading.  As always, I would love to hear your thoughts x 

- PART FIVE - 

#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #ayhom

[sxvxrxssnape]

minerva mcgonagall’s personal mission to make severus love christmas part 4 

aka snolidays/snapemas day 5 and 6 (lights festival, food, memories, stockings) // pre-PS/the years between. minerva and severus friendship // ft. the hogwarts staff gently bullying sev and getting wine drunk together. mentions of sev’s plum blancmange @deepperplexity @blog4snape

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of teaching, brewing, and general sulking. 

The term wouldn’t end until late January, but final exams were scheduled for the week before winter break and Severus had a thousand other things to finalize before the break started. There was a stack of assignments he needed to grade before everyone parted, the annual inventory that needed to be done, and he had about half a dozen cauldrons slowly simmering away with potions for the infirmary, not to mention he was creating both a study guide for the upcoming exam and an assignment that could be turned in for extra credit.

If even one student dared to fail his class after all the effort he put into making sure they passed, he was going to turn them all into frogs. 

He almost felt bad that he hadn’t made much time for Minerva, and aside from seeing each other at meals - and even then, Severus wasn’t quite known for his perfect attendance in the Great Hall - he hadn’t spoken more than eight words to her since their trip to Diagon Alley. 

It wasn’t as if he were avoiding her. 

Much.

He just needed a few days to himself - as much as he could get when he taught two classes a day (three on Wednesdays and Thursdays) anyway. He knew the only reason they hadn’t talked about his miniscule breakdown was because they had been in public and maybe he was a little afraid of being cornered by her in private. 

It was Friday now, his afternoon class had just ended, he had already checked on the status of his cauldrons, so all that was left on his to-do list was to hide himself away inside of his quarters and sulk.

Except he was all out of sugar.

Alright, not the worst problem to have and yes, he could call up a house elf and simply ask for the container to be refilled, but maybe a small part of him wanted to run into Minerva on neutral ground, so he wouldn’t have to knock on her door and risk coming off as lonely and needy. So rather than being a normal-functioning adult about this, he took his coffee ground-filled french press and flooed directly into the staff lounge.

He didn’t spend very much time in this particular room - large, brightly lit, and nestled between two towers somewhere on the fourth floor with large windows that overlooked the quidditch pitch - but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He found the lounge to be rather appealing, with its burning fireplace, sitting area, stacks of abandoned books, journals, and magazines, abundance of cabinets he liked to rifle through, and best of all, the fully stocked coffee bar off to the left of the round table. 

The room wasn’t empty, and unfortunately, devoid of the person whom he was seeking. Pomona was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, poring over a stack of papers with a furrowed brow and a bit of ink smeared over her cheek. Aurora was sitting on the lone couch, momentarily distracted from the magazine she had been leafing through to look up at him as he entered, eyebrow raised at the contraption he cradled. 

“What brings you here?” she asked, flicking her wand towards the record player and lowering the music that had been softly playing.

The action caused the herbology professor to look up and she frowned. “Oh, Severus.” she greeted, barely giving him more than a cursory glance. “I haven’t seen you here in a bit; thought you might have forgotten where it was.”

“Well, he did floo.” Professor Sinistra returned, her lips curling into a grin. “It’s quite possible he forgot where to find the door.”

“I didn’t forget.” Severus scowled, making his way towards the bar. 

“You tell yourself that.”

“There’s tea if you want some.” Pomona called out, raising her own teacup. “Mint.”

He ignored the steaming teapot in favor of the kettle, flicking his wand to heat up the water before pouring a little over the grounds in the press. He missed the simple pleasures of having an electric coffee maker - perhaps the only positive that came from summers at Spinner's End - but he would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer the taste of the pretentious, one-cup-at-a-time brew.

While the grounds took the time to presoak, he wandered over to the pink pastry box and eyed its contents. The house elves always made sure to stock the staff room with snacks - biscuits, fruit, packages of crisps - but pastries from the local bakery were the most sought out after. 

“The blueberry strudel belongs to Filius,” Pomona suddenly mentioned, not looking up from her task, “he’s already claimed it.”

Severus scowled at the remaining treat. “He’s not here, is he?” he mumbled, opening the box. He yelped as something sharp pierced his hand and drew back immediately, his face coloring slightly as Aurora started laughing.

“Like she said,” Aurora chuckled. “Filius already claimed it.” 

Severus cursed under his breath and returned to his coffee, pulling down a clean mug and the sugar jar on the way. He was pouring the rest of the hot water when the door opened. 

“French press again?” Minerva’s voice asked.

“Like he makes it any other way.” Aurora returned. “Professor I-Brew-Potions-For-A-Living is, unsurprisingly, the coffee snob among us.” 

“I am not.” Severus frowned, placing the plunger over the glass and giving it a slight swirl before setting it aside. “It’s not my fault the rest of you don’t have any taste.” 

“Oh, the baby thinks he has taste.” 

Severus blinked. “Perhaps I’ll refrain from giving you a gift this year after all.” he muttered, glaring at her. “Also, you’re the second youngest professor here.”

“But not the youngest.” Aurora grinned. “That pleasure is all yours, I’m afraid.”

Before Severus could form a rebuttal, Pomona stood up and gathered her papers, rushing towards the door with an annoyed, “I can’t get any work done with you two around.” Aurora followed suit, magazine under her arm, a cheeky, “baby” escaping her lips as she closed the door behind her. 

Severus sat down in Pomona’s abandoned chair, hands in his hair, as he groaned out a, “I’m most definitely not giving her a gift now.”

Minerva laughed and sat down across from him, a cup of mint tea in her hands. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“The lights?”

Minerva nodded and he considered her question as he got up to finish making his coffee. He grabbed milk from the cold cupboard and then stopped to look at her. “What if we went tonight, instead?”

“Tonight?”

Severus shrugged, sitting down with his cup and a package of biscuits. “We can grab dinner beforehand, I’m thinking Italian.”

“Really?”

“Invite some of the others.”

Minerva eyed him carefully. “Do my ears deceive me, Severus Snape, or are you suggesting a staff outing to see the lights? You?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll let everybody know.” 

--

“I think we should hang the stockings in the staff room.”

“What?”

“The stockings.” Minerva emphasized, buttoning her capelet. She was standing in front of her dressing mirror, adjusting the green tartan fabric over her shoulders. She was wearing a long sleeved dress under it and, no doubt, a warming charm had already been cast over the black fabric. Her hair was free of its usual pins, the soft curls seemingly trying their best to retain their accustomed shape. 

They were both in her private quarters, Severus sprawled on her couch with a book, as she finished getting ready for their outing. He had opted for his usual black on black on black, but had foregone his cloak for the grey wool coat he rarely wore. 

So rarely, that when he put his hands in his pockets, he came across the crumpled ticket of a play he had seen two winters ago. 

He couldn’t remember much about the show itself, but it had been the first time he had been invited to go out by his fellow colleagues and he had jumped at the chance. Of course, he had first pretended to consider it for half a day before telling Albus that he had nothing better to do that day and that he might as well tag along.

“Are you listening?”

“No.” Severus admitted, returning to the present. 

Minerva scowled. “I said, we should hang the stockings we bought in the staff room. It’s got a fireplace and the room is awfully drab, don’t you think? Plus, it's neutral ground so both our stockings can be up together.”

“Well, alright.”

“Excellent, let’s go then.”

“Now?”

“We have dinner reservations at seven - which is in twenty minutes, I might add - so yes, right now. Before we’re late.”

They flooed into the staff lounge, finding Aurora leafing through a book and listening to music once again. She raised an eyebrow at the paper shopping bag they were carrying. 

“What’s this?”

“Christmas.” Minerva replied simply, pulling out a stocking and handing it over. His name was now stitched along the edge in black thread and he frowned. 

“When did-?”

“I asked the house elves when we first got back.”

They hung their stockings on the mantle with a temporary sticking charm and surveyed their work. 

“I expect the rest of you to have a stocking on here by next week.” Minerva insisted, taking Severus’ hand and leading him out the door. “Come now, or we’ll be late.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Severus asked Aurora, pretending to eye her teaching robes in confusion. “We’re going out to dinner and then the lights festival.”

Aurora scowled at him, eyeing him carefully. “I would, but I have a class tonight.” she muttered, glancing out the window at the darkened sky. It was cloudless and few stars could be seen from her vantage point; there was no reason to cancel Astronomy tonight.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Severus shrugged, turning around quickly to hide his smirk. “I wouldn’t have chosen tonight if I knew.”

“Liar.” 

The door closed behind them. 

“You know I don’t approve of this.” Minerva told him, as they made their way down the stairs and out of the castle. 

“Don’t approve of what?”

Minerva shook her head at him, but didn’t answer.

They met Filius at the front door, his too-long blue scarf trailing behind him as they made their way towards the apparition point. They met Pomona on the way and once they cleared the wards, apparated into an alley close to the restaurant. 

Albus was already waiting inside, looking perfectly at ease in his three-piece suit, sipping on a glass of white wine.

“Ah, there you all are.” he greeted them, as they took their seats. “This wine is absolutely wonderful, by the way - do order a glass.”

“Someone dressed up for the occasion.” Minerva eyed the headmaster.

“I wear it quite well, don’t I?”

They were brought water glasses and bread, offered three types of wine - “I really must insist on the pinot gris.” Albus interrupted - and given a set of menus.

“It’s been a while since we’ve all gone out.” Filius mentioned, taking a slice of baguette and dipping it in olive oil and balsamic. “It’s quite nice.”

“We have Severus to thank for the idea,” Albus grinned, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but he didn’t think anyone noticed. 

Except for Albus, who immediately dropped his hand and offered an apologetic look. 

They ordered - and unsurprisingly, Minerva ordered herself the special - and fell into easy conversation as they waited for their meal. When the food arrived, it was met with excited sounds from the (perhaps a little wine-tispy) table and plates were quickly passed around with insistent, “You need to try this fried stracchino!” and “I swear, you will never taste a better beef stracotto pasta than this one.” and even a, “Listen, I know it sounds weird, but I’m telling you - you have to try the baccala! I don’t care if you don’t like fish!” 

The dessert menu left him a little discombobulated and he ordered himself coffee while the others shared rum babas and marzipan balls. One of the rum soaked sponge cakes was pushed towards him, split down the middle and filled with cream and sour cherries. He glanced up from his bicerin to find Minerva watching him.

“Try it, before these vultures get to it.” 

He obliged, cutting a piece off with his fork. 

“Why are you frowning?” Minerva asked, leaning closer. The others were a little pink-faced, laughing, as they played a game of rock-parchment-diffundo for the last chocolate and marzipan ball. “We are eating delicious food and drinking delicious wine - two things I know you like - and then we’re going to see the lights with all our friends. You shouldn’t be frowning.”

“I think you’ve had enough wine.” 

She made a face at him. “Oh, let me guess.” she pursed her lips. “You have some sort of traumatic childhood memory involving all of this and you are currently reliving it in your head.”

Severus scowled. “I don’t have a traumatic memory for everything.”

“Could have fooled me.” Pomona spoke up, inserting herself into their conversation. The others stopped and turned to look at him. “You’re so grumpy all the time, I just figured your whole life was simply continuous trauma.”

“I’ll revoke your christmas gift too, don’t test me.”

Pomona straightened up. “Oh, you got me a gift?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie!” Pomona grinned, pointing at him. “You got me a gift!”

“Don’t think you’re special.” Severus muttered. “It’s not just you.”

“Severus got us all gifts!” Filius realized. “Severus loves us!”

He made eye contact with the headmaster. “Consider this my official resignation.”

Albus nodded, his expression turning serious. “Of course, my boy, I understand.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s a shame my staff cannot be more professional when they venture out of the castle walls, but alas, there is a reason I do not let them wander far.” 

“Truly awful.”

“Severus loves us!” Pomona repeated and the table burst into giggles, save for Severus who covered his face with his hands. And he was the youngest of this lot?

They paid soon after that - Severus discretely cancelling the silencing and repelling charms they had cast on their table to hurry them along - and made their way towards the nearby park where the lights festival had been set up. The others wandered off on their own, leaving Minerva and Severus to walk the paths alone. 

Once the others had wandered far enough ahead that their conversation would no longer carry, Minerva learned slightly into her friend, nudging his shoulder. “Now will you tell me?”

“It’s not a traumatic childhood memory, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you did remember something.” Minerva pressed. 

“Yes.”

The path they walked was illuminated by tiny orbs, leading towards a tunnel strung with hundreds of white and blue lights. As they walked through it, Severus fell silent and simply looked up, sneaking glances of the night sky beyond the wire cage that held up all the lights. 

There was a giant christmas tree waiting for them when they exited the tunnel, made entirely of green and gold twinkles - strings of lights pulled taut from a metal pole and pinned onto the ground. Similar displays surrounded it, contraptions of metal and colored lights creating bow-tied gift boxes and ornaments, stars and snowflakes, all glowing in the dark. 

All the natural trees were wrapped in lights as well, not a single twig or branch left uncovered. Giant, glowing candy canes dotted the path now and they followed it, taking in every sparkling display. Music was playing and though others wandered the path, no one stood too close. 

“I remember my mum used to make this dessert when I was little, it was a blancmange made from dirigible plum and cardamom, I believe." 

"Oh?"

"She used to tell my father they were persimmons." he smiled softly. "Said she learned the recipe from her grandmother. It was probably my favorite part of the holiday break. I helped her make it one year; funnily enough, that was also the last Christmas I had with her."

"You said it wasn't a traumatic memory." Minerva scolded. 

"It's not." Severus defended himself. "It's one of my only good ones."

"There was blancmange on the menu." Minerva remembered, smiling sadly. She watched a pair of children run between the candy canes, their laughs echoing as they chased each other. 

"Fig leaf and orange." Severus recited. "It made me realize I haven't seen anywhere serve that particular dessert, let alone one made from dirigible plums. I miss it."

"Perhaps we could make it."

"You think?"

"Why not?" 

Minerva nodded towards a coffee stall and they ordered themselves the gingerbread hot chocolate. They cradled their red paper cups and took small sips as they wandered through the park, pointing out certain displays. 

"Perhaps nostalgia is getting the best of me." Severus finally circled back to their conversation. "But I find myself wanting to try. I don't have much left to remind me of her, especially not without also thinking of my father, but that one? That one's all ours."

"Elphinstone and I used to make a yule log cake." Minerva offered. "Down to the mushroom meringues and everything."

"I've never had one."

"Well, perhaps a baking day is in order."

"Perhaps it is." 

-----

a/n: this is starting to feel more like minerva and severus' adventures in eating out

hope you enjoyed the staff picking on my problem child a little

menu inspiration comes from bocca di lupo, london (sometimes i wonder if places ever search themselves to see what people are saying and find they're being featured in harry potter fanfics and the like)

stracchino - a soft, creamy cheese which the restuarant serves fried stracotto - italian pot roast, served with pasta here baccala - preserved, salted cod (fried) bicerin - a hot drink made from espresso, drinking chocolate, and milk blancmange - this one's special because i took a direct quote from the hogwarts mystery game, where sev reminisces about this dessert and gave it more backstory. its a sort of gelatin dessert, sweet and milky. bocca di lupo has a fig and orange panna cotta on their menu, which is basically the same thing (just different thickeners) so i traded it out for the sake of using the one tidbit i know about the game.

#snapemas 2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #snapemas #professor snape #snapecember #holiday writing challenge

[dameronology]

rockstar {s.r x reader} - 2

summary: it’s been two months since you sunk your chipped black nails into steve rogers’ heart. it’s bliss - maybe you’re living in a dream world. {part one here}

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG but part 2 is finally here! and i don’t even have an excuse because i’ve literally been doing nothing in lockdown. also this has two new characters, the bandmates, they’re only side characters/kinda comic relief but they were so much fun to write 

i’m gonna make a taglist so if you want to be added, let me know xx 

- val xx 

One month.

One month with you.

And the best month of his life. 

Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to say that he loved you - at least not to your face. He was certainly infatuated by you; obsessed with every sarcastic word that rolled off your tongue, entranced with every curve of your body and every mark on your skin. He was drawn in by every bold grin and cheeky wink; enamoured by your very state of being. 

It was a cold Wednesday morning; you’d turned on the heating in your apartment, but there was still a chill in the air. You were sat at the piano in your living room, a half-finished cigarette resting between your lips and a cup of black coffee resting atop the instrument, steam forming against the glacial air. 

You were surrounded by hundreds of pieces of paper; some were scribbled with lyrics, others with melodies and musical arrangements. They were scattered across the rug, and both your coffee and dining table. Getting musically stressed was all in a day’s work for you, but this particular song was being stubborn. 

Steve, who had still been asleep when you traipsed out of bed thirty minutes previous, was stood in the doorway of your bedroom. He had your sheet wrapped around his shoulders, watching as your hands absent-mindedly floated across the keys. You were wearing his shirt; it hung off your shoulders, a few tattoos peaking out the top. He’d seen a lot of beautiful sights in his life but this one certainly took the top spot.

He watched as creased your brow - something you always did when you were in deep concentration. 

‘Come back to bed?’

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to face him with a tired smile on your face. You dropped your pen and took the last sip of your coffee, jumping from your seat and skipping across the room to see him. He took you by the waist and you leapt up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing a kiss to his nose.

‘I would love to come back to bed but I gotta work, baby.’ you sighed, your hands wandering through his tufty blonde hair. ‘This song is stressing me out.’

‘I know a way I can help you relax,’ Steve’s face twisted into a grin.

‘You make a convincing-’ you were cut off by someone knocking excitedly on your door.

You groaned, dropping your head into the crook of his neck. There was only two other people who had access to your front door without buzzing through; you loved them both dearly but they were a real pain in your ass (especially when they were cock-blocking your chances with Captain America).

You leapt down from Steve’s waist, pressing a kiss to his lips.

‘Put on some clothes,’ you ordered, pushing him towards the bedroom, ‘and fix my sheets, Rogers!’

You heard Steve mutter something about how you were killing him, doll. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself, grabbing some black skinny jeans that had been strewn on your sofa. You tugged them on and then jogged to the front door, preparing yourself for the two clowns that awaited you.

‘What do you two morons want?’

You were met with the grinning faces of your band-mates. Alex was a six-foot-tall man child who still dressed like a My Chemical Romance fan circa 2005; Damian, meanwhile, was a self-described bisexual disaster with tufty brown hair and a never-ending collection of flannel shirts. And, above all, they were your absolute best friends. Platonic soulmates, if you will.

‘We haven’t heard from you in three days.’ Damian elbowed past you, swaying into your apartment.

‘We thought you were dead,’ Alex chimed in.

You folded your arms tightly across your chest, watching as your band-mates sauntered in. You didn’t intentionally spend three consecutive days locked in your apartment - it just sort of happened. You and Steve had met up on Friday for a drink, and he was still here on Wednesday. Time sure did fly when you were getting fucked by a super soldier. 

‘I’ve been busy.’ You muttered.

‘Doing what?’

‘Her new boyfriend, probably.’

‘He’s not my-’ you paused. Was Steve your boyfriend? You hadn’t that conversation yet. 

You hadn’t had a boyfriend for a long time. You weren’t short of casual flings - not by any means. It was simply that you hadn’t met anyone worth giving the time of day. And Steve Rogers, you found, was worth giving every second of every one of the rest of your living days.

‘Is he hot?’ Damian asked.

‘Very.’

‘Can we see - ‘

‘- sweetheart, have you seen my shirt?’

You felt the air leave your lungs when a shirtless Steve Rogers exited your bedroom. It was partially to do with what a glorious sight it was and half to do with the fact he hadn’t met any of your friends yet. And, aside from Sam and Bucky, you hadn’t met any of his either.

It wasn’t because you were ashamed; rather, it was au contraire. Whatever this thing was, it was close to your heart and it was close to his. It was your little secret; a tiny world you’d built together. It was too precious to expose to the world - not yet. 

Steve stopped talking when he saw the two other men in the penthouse. He recognised them from the photos on your wall. Except, in the pictures, they were sharing the same, menacing glare that you had. Now, they were grinning like two Cheshire cats.

‘Fuck my life,’ you murmured quietly, hiding your face in your hands, before taking a sharp breath and gesturing between the three. ‘Steve, this is Damian and Alex.‘

‘Right, great to meet you guys.’ Steve, momentarily forgetting his shirtlessness, flashed his beautiful smile, sticking his hand out for them to shake.

‘Believe me, Captain America. The pleasure is all mine.’

‘My eyes have been blessed-’

‘- right, that’s it!’ You snapped. ‘You two, out! I’ll see you in the studio later.’

‘But we have so many questions, sweetheart.’ Your nostrils flared at the use of Steve’s nickname.

‘I will throttle you, Damian!’ You threatened, showing him towards the front door.

‘We love you, Y/N!’

You scrunched up your nose, opening the front door. ‘I love you too. Now fuck off.’

You let the door shut behind them, dropping your back against it. You covered your face with your hands and let out a groan as you slid down it, collapsing into a pile on the floor. Steve, who was still stood in the centre of the room, pulled a face at you, as though he were pitying you. 

‘Don’t look at me like that, Captain America.’ You pointed a finger at him. 

‘I’m not looking at you like anything,’ he couldn’t hide the grin on his face. ‘You’re just so overdramatic. It’s very funny.’

‘I am not overdramatic!’

Steve shook his head and marched over to you, slamming his own back into the door with an over-dramatic groan. He slid downwards - exactly as you had - until he was sat next to you, mimicking your exact actions.

‘Does that look familiar, doll?’

‘It’s easy for you to say. You work with the Avengers, not Tweedledum and Tweedledee.’

‘They seem nice.’

‘I...’ you bit your lip, eyes wandering off ahead of you. ‘They called you my boyfriend.’

Steve furrowed his brow, his head dropping onto your shoulder. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you’re not ready to have that conversation?’

You took his hand on yours, playing with his fingers. They were almost twice the size of yours (and they did things, so many things) and you loved holding them. He towered over you in every way possible. You’d never been the kind of girl who wanted a man to protect her but with him, you didn’t mind so much. 

‘I like what we have now. You and me, and no-one else.’ You murmured quietly. ‘The minute you put labels on things, it creates pressure.’

‘Pressure to do what? Be together?’ He tried to hide the coldness in his voice. 

‘To take the next step!’ You said. ‘You start dating, then you’re official, then people expect you to get married and have babies-’

‘- Your bandmate called me your boyfriend. I didn’t propose to you.’ He stood up, and you immediately yearned for his touch as soon as it left you. 

‘Steve,’ you grabbed onto the door handle, steadying yourself as you leapt up. ‘Commitment just freaks me out, okay? It always has.’

He bit his lip, eyes glued to the floor. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Nothing. I’m not saying anything-’ you took his hands in yours. ‘I’m just asking you to be patient with me. Please?’

--

Later that day, Steve was sat in his office at the compound. It had been a slow morning; there wasn’t much in the way of missions and the reports he’d been working on were dull. He kept picking up his phone, checking to see if you’d texted him.

He still smiled every-time, nonetheless. His background picture was one he’d taken of you; you’d gone on a date to Central Park, and he’d got a snap of you with ice cream on your nose, signature scowl on your face. You had a pair of dark-rimmed Ray-Bans resting on your nose, a black beanie covering your hair. It was his favourite picture of you, because you were adorable and terrifying in equal measures. 

You still felt too good to be true. Before you, every attempt he’d taken at dating had been so complicated. Modern dating was a thousand times harder than it used to be. But, you were simple. You were so open about your feelings that he knew where he stood. It wasn’t exactly like you wore your heart on your sleeve but you were brutally honest. It surprised him sometimes, the way you just came out with things. The way you just said it how it was. 

You’d left things up in the air that morning. You and Steve both had to get to your respective workplaces, and you hadn’t yet had the time to properly sit down and talk. Part of him was terrified for it – what if you were going to end it?

‘I need your advice, Buck.’

Bucky looked up from his laptop, a frown across his features. For a minute, Steve felt bad for distracting him from his work, before he saw the Sims 4 loading screen on his desktop. 

‘What’s up?’ He asked. ‘Your girl getting you down?’

‘She’s not my girl,’ he shot back. ‘I mean…Y/N freaked out this morning when one of her bandmates called me her boyfriend.’

‘You’ve met Alex and Damien?!’ Bucky’s eyes widened, but he quickly cleared his throat. ‘I mean – not relevant. What did she say after?’

Steve rolled his eyes at his friend. ‘Told me she had some issues, asked me to be patient. I think it kinda opened a can of worms.’

Bucky paused, drawing the end of his pen along the table as he thought for a minute. ‘Figures. I think she’s right – you guys have been pretty intense. She probably just needs some time to find her bearings.’

‘What if I’m waiting for something that’s never gonna happen?’

‘Is she worth the wait?’ His friend raised his eyebrows. ‘Only you can decide that.’

--

Across the city, you were in the studio. You were sat on top of a piano, a guitar resting in your lap as you quietly strummed at it, waiting for inspiration to hit you. You were three quarters of the way through finishing the particular record that the band had been working on – but the last part was dragging. Your mind was a thousand miles away as it was, the face of a particular super soldier at the forefront of your mind.

‘You got anything?’ Damian called across from you. He was sat at his drumkit, occasionally whacking at a cymbal hopelessly.

‘Nope.’ You replied ‘I was thinking something like this-‘

‘-we have company!’ Alex announced, entering the room.

You glanced up from your guitar, eyes widening when you saw that Steve was with him. He shared a similar expression to you – nervous, perhaps. You cleared your throat and put the guitar to the side, hopping off the piano. Your boots clipped the key on the way down, a few notes emitting from the instrument as you walked across the room to face him.

‘We’re going to go and talk outside.’ You announced. You took Steve’s hand, pulling him out the room.

You exited the studio, heading out into the backlot of the building. The ground was wet with rain, a few droplets still falling from the sky. The sky was grey, air still thick with damp from the weather. You leant against the wall, boots crunching under the gravel of the ground, scrunching your nose up as a gust of wind hit your face.

‘I’m sorry that I freaked out this morning.’ You finally broke the silence between you. ‘I just…I guess I that I was enjoying that little bubble that we were living in a bit too much.’

Steve smiled, nodding. ‘I know. Me too, doll.’

‘It’s just that things are going so well between us that it freaks me out.’ You continued. ‘Because I know that means it’s going to become serious.’

‘So, what are you thinking now? Where do you want to go with this? With us?’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Every time that I’ve got to this point in a relationship before, I’ve ended it.’ You sighed, but immediately panicked when you saw the look on his face. ‘Oh god, I should not have lead with that – I mean…You’re the first person I’ve met that I want to take that step with. It freaks me out but I want to do it. You just gotta me halfway, yeah?’

Steve’s face softened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into his chest. The action was soft, filled with relief and maybe – just maybe – love.

‘So, does this mean I can officially call you my girlfriend?’

You nodded, beaming. ‘I might freak out the first few times you do it, but of course.’

You pressed your lips to his, hands running through his soft hair. You both fell back against the wall, but you broke the kiss before it could become too heated. You knew where it was going and you weren’t going to put it past you and the super soldier to try and find somewhere to get off in the studio.

‘We gotta back to work,’ you sighed. ‘But I was thinking – the guys have been banging on at me all day about wanting to meet the rest of the Avengers.’

‘That’s funny,’ Steve chuckled, ‘because Bucky has been secret fangirling over them.’

‘Maybe we could go out for drinks?’ You asked. ‘Tomorrow night?’

He pressed another kiss to your lips. ‘It’s a date.’

‘Good.’ You beamed at him. ‘D’you get a cab here?’

You fumbled around in your pockets, producing a lighter, a crumpled-up piece of paper and a set of keys. You tossed the keys to him, and Steve caught them. He’d been dropping hints about wanting to ride your bike again – it was the other thing he’d been obsessed with since the night you two met.

‘Take my bike.’ You said. ‘I think it needs to be ridden by someone who doesn’t grind its gears.’

‘And here I was, thinking you couldn’t get any better.’

You rolled your eyes, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. ‘Now go! I’ve finally had some inspiration for a song that I’ve been stuck on.’

Was it soon to be writing songs about him? Probably. Did you care? Absolutely not.

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