#up until a few months ago i straight up could not be happy alone

[buckybabesonly]

I Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Shy!Insecure!Reader

Genre: Angst with happy ending

Warnings: Casual sex (?), misunderstandings, self-deprecation

A/N: I’m actually not very happy with how this turned out but I hope some of you might enjoy it anyway?

Word count: 4.8k

You had never fallen in love before until you met Bucky.

You had spent your whole life wondering when it would happen to you - when you would feel that heart-racing, mind-blowing, bliss-inducing love that you saw so often in movies and read in novels.

Falling for him had been unexpected, like you had been turning corners in an endless maze until suddenly - there he was. This unbelievably talented, unique, intelligent man who treated you with respect and kindness. He showed interest in you when you were too shy to approach him first, talking to you about the everyday mundane, making you feel special. Out of all the incredible people Bucky knew and interacted with, he made you feel like you counted, too.

You worked as a lab tech at the Avengers compound since landing the coveted job two years ago, working closely with Bruce Banner, and had witnessed first hand when Bucky joined the team. He had been quiet at first, introverted, but you watched as he blossomed like a flower. He revealed more of his great sense of humour, wicked smile and subtle charm which made you fall for him.

When you were around him, you felt like your nerve endings were on fire. Every touch from him on your arm, your shoulders, the small of your back, sent pulses shooting through your body and a flush of red straight to your cheeks. The power he had over you was undeniable, and you were certain he knew it, too.

The moment you realised you were in trouble was on a Saturday afternoon, four months after you first met him. He returned to the compound one day with a nasty gash on his forehead and blood crusting his hands, his eyes tired and face pale. The moment you saw him, you knew that if anything were to happen to him, you would have no idea how to cope. Even seeing him with relatively minor injuries made your chest clench in fear and anxiety.

Without a doubt, you had finally fallen in love.

Your first time with Bucky was unexpected. He was perched on one of the counters in your lab, snacking on a pack of cashews as he watched you peer into a microscope. You could barely focus on the work at hand, hyper aware of his presence and ocean blue eyes on your form.

“You’re not supposed to eat in here, you know,” you murmured, trying to hide your smile.

“I know,” he countered, continuing to chew obnoxiously.

You had been harbouring your secret feelings for him for over a year and a half. With every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to figure out what to do. Sometimes you felt that he reciprocated them - the constant flirting, the close touches, the excuses he made to spend time alone with one another. But you were too afraid to ask him outright how he felt about you, and too shy to make the first move.

“How’s your leg?” you asked, if only to distract yourself from your thoughts, referring to the injury he had received a few days ago.

“Much better. Strong as ever.” He kicked it out suddenly as to punctuate his words.

“Hey,” you exclaimed, alarmed. “I wish you would be more careful. Seems you’re always getting patched up lately.” You were frowning, and Bucky seemed amused at your concern.

“Occupational hazard.”

“Whatever. Just don’t bust open your stitches and bleed all over my lab. It’s just been sanitized.” You sniffed as Bucky cocked his head at you, flashing his adorable grin. “In fact I’m violating several health and safety rules just allowing you to be in here,” you said, trying to keep your face straight as Bucky threatened to tease a smile from you.

You turned back to the work at hand, working in comfortable silence as Bucky observed you. He soon seemed restless, however, and you looked up again when he jumped off his perch and walked over to you, bumping you with his shoulder. He smelled so good - like the forest after it had just rained. He looked down at you, giving you one of his trademark dimpled smiles yet again.

“What?”

“I’m bored,” he shrugged.

“Don’t you have top secret, dangerous mission stuff to do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your heart was beating fast as he leaned closer suddenly, eyes flickering from yours down to your mouth. He had been doing that a lot as of late.

“Rather do something else,” he said quietly, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

Time stood still. He suddenly closed the distance between you, and then you were kissing. His lips were soft, his hands gentle as they raised to cradle your face, sliding into your hair.

Your hands raised on their own accord to grab the edges of his leather jacket, pulling him closer, feeling surreal as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled away just long enough for you to ask breathlessly, “Is this actually happening?”

All he did was chuckle and pull you back against him again.

You were positively floating as Bucky grabbed your hand and led you to his private floor in the compound, into his bedroom. You thought you were dreaming when he lay you down softly on his bed, undressing you both because your hands were shaking.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, eyes searching your face as you nodded.

“Yes,” you said instantly. “It’s okay.”

That night, you had sex with him for the first time. He held you tightly as he thrust inside you, peppering your face with kisses, making you whimper with pleasure until you both reached the inevitable climax.

You felt you could die happy now as you fell asleep in Bucky’s arms, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Insecurity was an ugly thing.

You woke up a couple of hours before Bucky, lying with your eyes wide open as the ink black sky slowly lightened, the sun bleeding across the horizon.

You looked at this man lying beside you - this perfect specimen, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept, his chiselled jawline, ruggedly handsome features. The reality of what had happened was slowly sinking in, bringing with it doubts and questions as to what this meant.

God, he was so beautiful. So perfect in literally every way. You were fully aware of his contrast to you.

You had never considered yourself a beautiful girl. You had always been very conscious of your flaws, the way your body didn’t look quite the way you wanted it to, the way you felt that no one really gave you a second look.

I’m bored, Bucky had said yesterday. Were you just a cure for his boredom?

You gnawed at your bottom lip, uncertainties flooding into your system as you recalled the conversation and events leading up to the steamy encounter yesterday. Had he pulled you tighter against him, or had you simply imagined it? Did he do this all the time, or were you an exception?

People had causal sex all the time. You knew that Natasha and Steve had fooled around before and continued as friends only, and a lot of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents you knew had been known to sleep around interdepartmentally, lending to some interesting work gossip.

You knew you were stupid to let yourself think something serious might be happening. You and Bucky hadn’t even spoken about feelings or been on anything which remotely resembled a date. Bucky had been a proper charmer back in the day, you were well aware.

Your heart plummeted as you continued to think. You were suddenly so relieved you hadn’t revealed your feelings for him last night in your stupor. You had been so happy to be held by him, to be kissed by him, but that’s all it was - just a bit of fun. It had to be.

You felt Bucky stir beside you eventually, and you clutched the covers close to your naked body as he opened his eyes and smiled at you lazily.

What was the proper etiquette? Were you supposed to leave as soon as possible?

“Morning,” he said huskily. He looked so adorable that the panic in your chest quelled momentarily.

“Morning,” you smiled.

He yawned, his dark hair unruly as he ran his fingers through it.

“What’s the time?”

You cleared your throat. “Just gone seven. I have an early meeting with Bruce.”

“Mmm. Okay. You have to go now?” He looked at you with what may have been disappointment.

“I should probably get going, yeah. Need to prepare,” you said, eyes scanning the room for your clothes as you blushed at the thought of dressing in front of Bucky, even though he had seen you in all your naked glory last night.

Bucky suddenly moved in close and kissed you, causing your breath to hitch. You felt self conscious about how worn out you probably looked first thing in the morning, but melted into his touch nonetheless.

"Are we going to do this again?" he managed to get out against your lips.

"If you like," you answered carefully.

"I would very much like."

“Me too,” you said shyly, pulling back from Bucky and ducking your head down.

"So you're okay with this?"

Your heart constricted then, wanting to shout loudly that no, it’s not okay, and you actually wanted a serious relationship. But how terrifying would that be to suddenly dump your confessions onto him when the poor man had no idea how you felt?

But you didn’t know what was worse. Just being friends with benefits, or actually confessing your true feelings and pushing him away completely.

“Sure,” you said finally, keeping your voice purposely light. “It’s just sex, Bucky. It’s okay.”

Bucky froze then, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together, his lips stiffening as he swallowed.

“What?” you asked carefully, feeling inexplicably nervous.

Bucky was silent for a beat before responding. “Nothing.” He gestured between you with his vibranium hand, frowning ever so slightly. “This is nothing. Right?”

He wanted affirmation. You felt shame flood your chest.

“Right,” you said weakly, turning away before Bucky could see the tears in your eyes. “I better get going.”

He didn’t say anything as you hurriedly pulled on your clothes and mumbled an imperceptible “Bye” before you let yourself out.

As it turned out, it didn’t happen again.

You had no idea what you had done or how you had messed it up, but you had.

You had never done this before. Never casually hopped into bed with a man without something greater at play. You had one ex-boyfriend from your college days who was sweet but you were never truly in love with, and sex with him had happened a few months into your relationship.

You didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to act around Bucky anymore. Didn’t know what he even wanted.

You thought he just wanted a fling. No strings attached. But after that day, somehow, the two of you were never alone again.

He gave you small, if a little curt, smiles now and again and sometimes spoke to you about work-related matters if necessary, but everything else had suddenly disappeared.

A monstrous, ugly feeling gnawed a hole in your chest, slowly over the next two weeks until it was a gaping cavern. Had you messed it up so badly that Bucky just wasn’t interested anymore? Or worse - had it been his objective all along to just get you into bed and then disappear?

No, he wasn’t like that, you decided, quickly dismissing the thought. The only logical conclusion, then, was that your performance had been so poor that he just didn’t want to be intimate again, but didn’t know how to tell you.

You felt so lost. This isn’t what you wanted, not really. You were never one for casual sex, and yet it killed you how Bucky was avoiding you now. You’d rather reduce yourself to his fuck buddy than nothing. That one night with him had been magical, had made you think about an entire lifetime of mornings waking up beside him.

Your misery was clear to see to all those around you, particularly Bruce, whom you had become very good friends with since you worked together in such close proximity.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, exactly two weeks after your night with Bucky. You were prodding about with some equipment you were working on for Sam’s wings. “And don’t just say you are, because I can tell you’re not.”

You shrugged half heartedly. “I guess I’m not. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You might feel better,” Bruce said, approaching you with a sympathetic tilt of the head. “You know I don’t usually pry, but I’m kind of worried. I can tell you’re upset.”

“Not upset,” you lied quickly, meeting his eyes. “Just…I need to get out of my own head, maybe.”

Bruce studied your face carefully but didn’t delve any further. “Tell you what. Maybe you’ll feel better tonight at the party.”

You wanted to groan loudly. Tony’s annual charity gala. You had looked forward to it before, the prospect of dressing up and maybe getting a dance with Bucky, but you weren’t quite in the party mood anymore. Still, you decided to maintain as positive of a mindset as you could, returning Bruce’s smile and promising yourself that you’d try and have a good time.

You left work with a slightly reinvigorated mindset as you headed back to your apartment to get changed. Maybe tonight could be a chance to relight that spark with Bucky again - if not that way, then you at least wanted some assurance that you were still friends.

You tried your best to uplift your mood whilst you got ready. You changed into a silky blue dress, one which complimented Bucky’s eyes, you realised. Perhaps this had been in your subconscious the day you’d picked it out. It was a long number, quite form fitting with a modest slit up the leg. You tried hard with your makeup and jewellery, the idea of impressing Bucky at the forefront of your mind as you tried to steady your racing heart every time he popped into your head.

Observing yourself in the mirror, you smoothed down the sides of your dress and tried to practice your smile. You managed to leave your apartment in a much better, optimistic state as you hailed a cab to take you to the gala venue.

It was being held in a new building commissioned by Tony next to Central Park, extravagant enough to rival the Met. You walked into the marble lobby, gaping at the high, vaulted ceilings and chandeliers hanging everywhere for just a moment, before you began searching the crowd for a familiar face.

You found yourself mingling with your other fellow lab techs who were buzzing with excitement to be invited to such an event, and you suppressed a frown as 30 minutes passed with no sign of Bucky.

Eventually, the crowd filtered into the main room filled with round tables where dinner would be served, and a huge glass bar which stretched along one side of the room. People were still socialising before food was to be served, and your eyes were roving non-stop, unable to focus on proper conversation with anyone.

Finally, just when your hope was dissipating, you saw him. He was standing in the middle of the crowded bar, clad in a black tux. This was the first time you had ever seen him in such an outfit, and it took your breath away. He held a flute of champagne in one hand, a complete vision and so different to how you usually saw him, typically fresh off the battlefield in his combat gear.

He was talking to Sam who had his back towards you. Bucky’s expression was unreadable but, as if sensing your burning eyes on him, he glanced towards you.

He did a double take, pausing mid-sentence to Sam, and you held your breath. He gave you a polite, if slightly terse, smile. He turned his attention away from you again, and your heart clenched.

It hurt more than you thought it would. It was just a tiny gesture, and he had acknowledged you, but why did it cause you pain?

No. Stop overthinking. You excused yourself from your colleagues and found yourself walking towards Bucky and Sam, reminding yourself that you were friends. You spoke to Bucky all the time - okay, maybe not in the last couple of weeks, but you had nothing to be afraid of. Just act normal.

“Hey guys,” you said lightly, watching as Bucky cleared his throat and gave you that same, tight smile.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sam beamed, giving you a one armed hug. “You look stunning.”

You smiled shyly, twisting your hands together as you looked at Bucky.

“Thanks. You both look very handsome.”

As if answering your prayers for alone time with Bucky, you heard Clint in the distance beckon for Sam to go over, and he excused himself, leaving you two stood in a slightly awkward silence.

Bucky raised his champagne and took a sip as you tried to get him to meet your eyes.

“How have you been?” you asked finally. “Haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

Bucky shrugged, finally looking at you. “Been okay. Busy.”

You felt frustration rising. Usually he would be telling you all about the things that had occurred in his day, his daily arguments with Sam, anything and everything in between. But now he spoke to you as if you were merely acquaintances.

“Listen. Did I do something wrong?” you said finally, surprising yourself by cutting to the chase. You just wanted Bucky back, and you let your desperation take over.

Bucky seemed taken aback at your forward approach, but he composed himself quickly.

“Nothing,” he said, his tone ever so slightly blunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You felt like you were going to cry. You didn’t know how just a fortnight ago, you and Bucky had been locked in a passionate cinch in his bed, and now he was completely icing you out.

“Okay,” you said, deflating slightly. You knew that if he didn’t want to tell you, there was nothing you could do to squeeze it out of him.

“I’m gonna go take a seat,” he muttered, giving you one last look before he walked away.

You quickly hurried back to your colleagues, embarrassment searing your insides.

The evening passed painfully slowly. You found yourself sat quietly at your table after dinner service had ended and people were either having drinks, chatting out on the balconies or dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

You felt the gala could not get any worse. Until it did.

Natasha and Bucky were in the middle of the dance floor, swallowed up in the sea of couples and yet standing out due to their striking attractiveness. Natasha was dressed in a short, tight black dress, so simple and yet so gorgeous. Her red hair was straight and sleek, and she looked up at Bucky as they danced, his signature almost-cocky smile on his lips. A smile which he had not shown you since that day.

Natasha was effortlessly beautiful. She didn’t even have to try and she could get any man she wanted. Bucky included, obviously. You watched their movements closely as they danced, how they spoke to each other in low voices.

The emotions rising in your chest was like bile in your throat. It burned, it hurt, and it was able to illicit a terrible response in your brain.

You felt so ridiculous.

The dress you had on suddenly felt too tight, too uncomfortable around your stomach. You caught sight of your reflection in one of the large, ornate mirrors hanging off the walls and suddenly felt so ugly. You had tried so hard tonight, and for what? Bucky had barely given you ten seconds of his attention, and at the end of the day, no amount of effort could make you feel beautiful.

You didn’t know how you could’ve let yourself believe in something more. You had to make every effort to even just feel somewhat presentable, but women like Natasha didn’t have to. She was stunning and talented and intelligent, the obvious choice.

God knows why you had been questioning Bucky’s lack of attention. Maybe you had simply been misinterpreting your closeness all along.

You stood then, not wanting to cry in front of an audience. No one would notice you early departure anyway.

You left the ballroom, almost tripping in your stupid heels as you collected your things from the cloakroom.

Shrugging on your heavy coat as you marched through the empty lobby, you yelped in pain as you rolled your ankle clumsily, sending you crashing gracelessly onto the floor. You cursed, coat half-hanging off your body as you felt tears spring to your eyes.

It was the last straw. You were crying as you tried to stand, ankle throbbing, feeling mildly grateful that there was no one around to witness your childish episode. You thought you might have heard someone calling your name, but you ignored it, the roaring in your ears failing to stop.

Your tears didn’t cease, not even when you finally made it back home, ripping off the dress as soon as you could and crawling into the safety of your bed.

Bucky finally found you the next day in your lab on your lunch break. You were startled to see him appear in the doorway, your eyes tired and swollen from a night of crying. You hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“Bruce isn’t here,” was the first thing you said.

He looked almost annoyed as he walked in and said, “Wasn’t looking for him.”

“Oh. What do you want?” The words came out harsher than you intended. Bucky definitely looked annoyed now, a scowl fixed on his face.

He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“Bucky!” Your voice came out loud and sharp as he turned back around. Frustration erupted. “You know what - you have no right to behave this way.”

“Excuse me?” He turned to look at you incredulously, forehead creasing.

“The way you’ve been treating me - the past few weeks since that night - you just ignore me now,” you were practically spluttering, all your feelings fighting to pour themselves out at once. “It’s horrible. I thought we were friends.”

“We were,” he said, looking almost torn.

“It’s not fair.” Your eyes were stinging and you were mortified, hurriedly lifting your hands to wipe them.

“Are you crying?” Bucky asked softly, looking nervous.

“Yes,” you snapped. “I thought we were close - I thought you liked me.” You were humiliated at your confession but ploughed on. “I thought that night meant something. But you -”

“Woah, hang on -”

“Don’t interrupt me!” you huffed.

Bucky took you in his arms, pulling you into his chest as you tried to pull back.

“Calm down,” he grunted, holding you still as you let out an exasperated noise. “Breathe.”

You knew he wouldn’t let up, so you let your anger reduce to a simmer as you focused on breathing steadily.

“Good girl.”

His presence was comforting despite your anger and frustration towards him. He always made you feel safe.

“I thought you liked me,” you repeated in a quiet voice. You were staring at his chest, refusing to look at him.

“I do,” he said, his voice tight.

“No, I thought you liked me as more than a friend.”

Bucky pulled back, lifting two figures under your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Can we rewind?” His request was soft. “Tell me. What did that night mean to you?”

“Are you really going to make me do this?”

His silence spoke volumes.

You tried not to let your frustration get the better of you. “I really like you, Bucky. I’m not a girl who enjoys sex with no strings attached. Especially not with you. I mean, I enjoyed the sex -” you blushed violently, “- but I - I want more.” Your words were rushed and you stared at the empty spot above his head, wanting to die from embarrassment.

“More?” he promoted.

“A relationship,” you clarified. “I know that’s not what you want. And that’s fine. But if we could at least just go back to how we were, where you actually spoke to me and spent time with me, I would really like that. Because I miss you.”

Bucky looked perplexed as he released you, mouth opening wordlessly. Finally, he uttered, “I don’t want that.”

Searing pain burst inside you, and your face crumpled.

“No, no, no,” he said hurriedly as your vision blurred. “I mean - I don’t want to be friends, because I want to be together. I want a relationship.”

“With me?” you asked, confusion marring your face.

“With you.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said instantaneously. “Are you joking? This isn’t funny.”

“Would I joke about something like that?”

“You said you were bored,” you blurted. “You asked me if I was ‘okay with this’.” As you spoke, you realised how groundless your assumptions actually might be, but you refused to believe the alternative - that Bucky genuinely wanted to be with you.

Bucky threw his hands up in the air, looking defensive. “You said it was ‘just sex’! I never at any point told you that this was just fun for me.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Bucky dragged a hand over his face, sighing. “Okay, I think we may have had a breakdown in communication.”

“But I don’t get it,” you insisted. “Why would you want to be with me? I saw you with Natasha last night.”

“Dancing,” he said indignantly. “Just dancing.”

“You didn’t dance with me,” you shot back. “I - I only went to that dumb thing because I wanted you to ask me to dance.”

Bucky looked pained, biting down on his lower lip with regret. “I didn’t know.”

“I wanted to look nice for you,” you confessed quietly.

“You did. You were gorgeous.”

You laughed humourlessly. Bucky frowned.

“I’m being serious.”

“Sure.” You genuinely didn’t believe him.

“Stop that and look at me,” he said sharply.

His eyes were filled with both annoyance and affection, making you falter. You didn’t say anything when he sighed and stroked your hair.

“I wanted to tell you how beautiful you were. But I just couldn’t bear to be near you. I thought you just wanted something casual. And I don’t think I can handle that.”

“I can’t handle that either,” you confessed. “I really want to be with you, Bucky.”

Bucky beamed then upon hearing your words, relief washing over his face.

“Really?”

How could he ever doubt that? You smiled and nodded, but your smile was fragile and faded at the thought of Bucky and Natasha dancing last night. Even if there was nothing untoward happening, you still felt that he should be with someone as equally impressive as Natasha.

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I want to be with you, but at the same time, I don’t know why you would want to be with me.”

Bucky frowned. “Is it that hard to understand?”

You didn’t say anything, so Bucky continued, “I thought you knew how I felt. I’ve been making it pretty damn obvious these past few months.”

“I thought you were just being nice,” you mumbled. “I did think, sometimes, maybe you had feelings for me, but then I decided it just didn’t make sense.”

“Tell me why,” Bucky said gently.

You took a deep breath, knowing you could be vulnerable around him. “I’ve never felt that I was good enough for you. I feel so average, so normal. And you - well, you’re you. So outstanding in every way.”

Bucky shook his head, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. He smiled slightly when you blushed in response, skin flaming.

“Listen to me. Do you know how I view myself? I’m completely flawed, my morals are sometimes questionable, I’ve done terrible things -”

You were shaking your head vehemently in disagreement, and he smiled.

“See? You’re proving my point. We’re our own biggest critics. And maybe you don’t see how amazing you are, but I do. And I want you. I have pretty good taste, you know.” The way he looked at you made your self-doubt falter - he was observing you like you were so precious, the softness and tenderness in his face making your heart flutter.

You smiled then, Bucky taking a step closer, dipping his head to whisper against your lips.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you how brilliant you are, if that’s what it takes.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #avengers fic #Bucky one shot #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic

[ageingfangirl2]

You Can't Hurt Me! Haruchiyo Sanzu (Tokyo Revengers)

You work in a coffee shop, another day of being bored and fake smiling at customers, until a pink-haired man comes crashing through the window and meets his match. Sanzu x Reader (Bonten Timeline)

'Only two more hours until I can close this place,' you mutter under your breath, leaning on the counter with your hands on your face.

Your eyes roam lazily over the scattered handful of customers in the coffee shop. A loved-up couple in the corner huddled together whispering and blushing, a few businessmen and women tapping away at their phones, and a wannabe writer who practically lives here. All day everyday just like you, you think gloomily.

Still leaning on one hand, you tap your fingers on your other hand impatiently on the counter, musing over ways you could close the shop early for the day. You had three options that sprung to mind; one, you could make up an excuse about a gas leak since the building down the road had one a month ago, two, act crazy so everyone leaves and you potentially get fired, or three, bide your time patiently so you earn every dime of your paycheck.

You decide on option three, blowing out a loud sigh. You needed the money, you couldn't afford to lose this job in the current economy. Making coffee wasn't your ideal life, the job wasn't that hard, it just got boring in the late afternoon when the crowds thinned and you were left to your own devices.

You pick up the rag over your shoulder, deciding to wipe the counter down one more time when a loud crash startles you and snaps you out of your thoughts.

A man quite literally comes flying through the window, sending glass shards across the room, luckily there were no customers in those window seats. Customers scream in terror, as the man, bloodied and bruised rises to his feet, but unlike everyone else, you weren't terrified because things just got interesting.

As if he knew you were watching him, his eyes snap in your direction, his gaze fierce and piercing. You could see why people would be scared of him because he had interesting scars around his mouth and screamed 'mafia' vibes. But right now all you could think about was how you had another mess to clean up and your boss wasn't going to be happy.

'Will you stop dripping blood all over my clean floors?' you ask, voice monotone as you meet his gaze.

He growls, his voice dark and dripping with menace, 'Excuse me?'

'I just mopped,' you reply, and stand up straight, stretching to work out some kinks in your back from leaning over.

He reaches around his back, pulls a gun from the waistband of his trousers and points it directly at you, a wicked grin creeping onto his lips. At this point what few customers had stayed to gawk flee from the shop leaving the two of you alone.

You stare him down as he chuckles, 'It's just the two of us now.'

You nod, 'Great, I was looking for an excuse to close early.'

His grin wavers. He tries to take a step towards you but staggers backwards, wincing. Whatever fight he'd been in, it was catching up to him, 'quick. Help dress my wounds.'

He waves his gun at you with shaky hands, 'or I'll shoot you dead.'

You clear your throat and raise a single eyebrow, 'only if you ask me nicely sir.'

His eyes widen in shock, probably not used to being spoken back to, 'What did you say?'

You sigh loudly again, imagining being anywhere but here right now, 'did your hearing get damaged when you came crashing through the window?'

'NO!' He snaps.

You motion behind him towards the front door, 'Come on, then. Walk outside, and enter with a better attitude. I'll treat your wounds, but you have to be respectful.'

Confusion, anger and something else flash across his face while you watch him with disinterest.

'Who do you think you are? Telling me what to do,' he waves his gun at you again as he speaks.

Your tiredness turns into anger, 'and who the hell do you think you are? If you don't want to bleed out, you need to...ask...me...nicely.'

He stares at you, his mouth agape, speechless. Then he grits his teeth, 'Fine. Will you please kindly help me with my wounds?'

You smile a little, 'there, was that so hard?'

You pull out the first aid kit from under the counter and walk around the counter holding it in front of you as you carefully approach him. You reach out to pull off his suit jacket, but he flinches away.

'What are you doing?' he gasps.

You roll your eyes, 'I need to be able to see the wounds to treat them.'

He blinks a couple of times, realisation dawning on his face, 'Oh, right...go ahead...'

You extend your hand again slowly as if he were a dangerous animal that might bite. This time he lets you help him out of his jacket which you place over the back of a nearby chair, while he winces.

You let him remove his waistcoat, tie and shirt which was bloodied. It was a lot to take in coming face to face with his bare chest, he was in good physical shape. You'd think he was carved out of stone if it wasn't for the warmth that came off his body reminding you he was human. You quickly tell your brain to get out of the gutter with dirty thoughts, seeing the amount of blood on his chest, there was a lot of it.

The main wound was on his right ribcage, and looked like someone had stabbed him, but he had other cuts and gashes across his arms, and even his face, but some of those could have been from being thrown through a glass window.

You take a deep breath, 'let me guess, I'd hate to see the other guy?'

'Other guys,' he grumbles

You pull out a disinfectant wipe and dab at the cut on his face just to the left of one of his scars.

'FUCK YOU! OW!!!' he shouts.

You pull the wipe back in surrender, 'sorry, sorry,' you mumble, 'I should have warned you that this might sting a little.'

He grunts, and you move back in to dab the cut with a much more gentle touch, 'do you have to?'

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter, he's awfully scared for a tough guy, 'if it gets infected, it's going to hurt a whole lot more.'

You try to quickly clean the smaller cuts and gashes not wanting him to lash out at you because he couldn't handle a little pain. After throwing out the bloody wipes, you unroll the bandage and start to tackle the deeper wound on his ribcage. He grunts and grimaces as you wrap the bandage tighter and tighter around his body.

'You really should go to the hospital, looks like this might need stitches,' you observe, as you wrap, noticing some blood seeping through.

He huffs, 'I couldn't care less about how I look.'

You stop your work and pull back looking at him with your own grin. His perfectly styled pink hair and smart clothes, all screamed I care, 'sure you don't.'

You cut the excess bandage and tape it down, 'how did you get into this mess if you don't mind me asking.'

He eyes you suspiciously, 'what do you care?'

You shrug your shoulders, 'Call me curious. Maybe I'd like to avoid ending up in a similar situation if it isn't safe around here anymore.'

He scoffs, trust me, I don't think you need to worry about that.'

You match his scoff, 'why not?'

He eyes you up and down smirking, 'You don't seem the type to get into trouble.'

You chew your lip, weighing up his words, 'Is that a compliment or an insult?'

He shrugs, 'You decide.'

You smile and puff out your chest proudly, 'compliment then.'

You watch him put his shirt back on along with the waistcoat which he leaves open, before slowly and carefully putting his jacket back on with the tie now in the pocket. When he's done you take a step back and finally take in the messy scene around you, 'now you can help me clean this place up.'

His mouth hangs open, 'you want me to what?'

You motion around you at the broken glass and blood, 'Clean up. Look at the mess you made. I've had a long day...a long week... and an even longer year.'

You slump down into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling the full weight of your exhaustion after the small adrenaline rush.

He shakes his head, 'do you think I care?'

You click your tongue, 'I don't know. I don't care.'

His brows furrow together, 'why aren't you afraid of me?'

You shrug a shoulder, 'I'm too tired to be afraid of you right now.'

He squints at you, curiosity in his eyes, 'You should be terrified of me. You should be begging me to spare your life.'

He prowls towards you, wearing a menacing grin, 'Don't you know who I am? Don't you know who I work for?'

'Enlighten me then,' you reply, back in your monotone voice from before.

His eyes narrow to snake-like slits as he takes in your bored expression, 'I'm one the most powerful and dangerous men you'll ever meet. I'm Haruchiyo Sanzu.'

You blink a couple of times, you couldn't care less who he thought he was, you hadn't heard his name before or even seen him around his area before.

He fingers the gun which was back in his waistband, 'I could hurt you so bad. You'd wish you were dead.'

You roll your eyes which you'd done a lot during this encounter, 'Sanzu, is it? I work in customer service. You can't hurt me in any way that matters.'

He looks frozen, almost like a deer in headlights. You manage to make yourself stand up and take off your apron which had his blood on and fling it on the table ready to call it a night.

'You--You don't--' he stammers, and this time when he eyes you up and down there's something different in his eyes, like he's seeing you for the first time.

You put your hands on your hips, ready to hand back any crap he decided to throw your way, 'What?'

He looks flustered, and he can't stop staring at you so you continue speaking, 'What? Spit it out. I don't have all night.'

As you step around him he manages to speak, 'You look better than this place, that's all. You don't belong here.'

You look down at your feet, suddenly very aware of yourself. You try to keep the heat from showing on your cheeks at his genuine words. He was the first person other than yourself who'd told you that you were better than this place.

'What do you mean by that?' you ask.

'It was meant as a compliment, geeze you're annoying,' he snaps back.

You pout, 'didn't sound like one with your tone is all.'

You flip the sign on the door from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' before heading back behind the counter to retrieve the brush and pan along with the mop bucket, ignoring Sanzu, though you could feel his eyes on you.

'Well, uh...I guess I'll be going then,' he says.

You glance over your shoulder at him to see he is checking out the name tag on your apron, '...nice name.'

You slap your hand down on the counter, at least pay for a coffee, you've done enough damage.'

He continues to stare at you with the same shocked expression, that seems to have a begrudging respect undertone, you guess he'd never come across somebody quite like you.

'Okay, fine,' he says calmly, and approaches the counter taking his wallet out of his back pocket instead of the gun.'

'Err...wh-what do you want?' you stutter, not expecting him to take up your offer or even pay.

'Surprise me,' he replies, a lazy smirk on his lips.

He knew he was affecting you, maybe getting the upper hand on you after your attitude towards him earlier. So you decide to make him the simplest drink, not just because you are lazy, but because you think it suits him.

'Double espresso, black,' you call out, putting the drink in front of him.

He picks it up and sips it, his eyes sparkling at you over the cup's rim. He doesn't make any noise of approval or disapproval. Instead, he passes a crisp one hundred across the counter towards you, 'Keep the change.'

You gape at him, staring at the money, as he swiftly finishes the drink and throws the takeaway cup in the bin next to the counter. Wordlessly, he struts out of the shop with his head held high, leaving you with the mess he'd made.

#anime blog #anime fanfiction #anime imagines #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo rev #tokyo rev imagines #tokyo rev fanfiction #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokyo rev sanzu #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x you #tokyo revengers bonten #tokyo rev bonten #bonten #sanzu bonten #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #tokyo revengers

[grey342]

Bathroom

Phil Wenneck x reader

synopsis - Reader has been avoiding Phil so he pulls her aside at a party to talk..

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, semi-public sex, Phil being kinda dominant, fingering, use of names (slut), edging (kinda) and unprotected sex.

authors note - *insert 'Bathroom' by Montell Fish* This was the winner from the poll, I really hope you guys like it. Thank you for being so patient, you have no idea how much it means to me! I'm going to attempt to get one fic out per week but no promises. So sorry for the wait but I hope you love it <3

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

He's been eyeing you up all night.

You’re celebrating Stu's promotion. He’s been waiting five months for this and you’re so happy that he finally got it.

You and the guys decided to do a surprise party for him with his friends, co-workers and family. You’ve been trying to distract yourself all night and keep your distance from him but, the tension hanging in the air doesn’t go unnoticed.

A couple of months ago you and Phil made a mistake. An amazing one but still, a mistake.

The group went out for their weekly hangout this time, in a bar. You had just broke up with your fifth boyfriend of the year and to say you were feeling depressed was an understatement. Phil was recently divorced and couldn’t be fucking happier. And what better way to celebrate than getting shitfaced with his best friends.

You were wearing a short green dress that showed off your cleavage and it was taking everything in Phil to not tear it off you right there and then. He was wearing his classic black button-up shirt, not done up all the way, and a pair of slacks with a bulging print in them. You had to keep your legs tightly pressed together whenever you looked at him. At one point you swore you drooled a little.

Neither of you would ever admit the sexual tension that hid in the cracks of your friendship. But it was there and it had been since high school. Moving on, a few too many drinks were had and the next morning you woke up not in your bed and not alone. Flashbacks of the night before ran rampant through your mind, you didn't want to face it so you got up and left.

You didn't speak for a couple weeks after that incident. Eventually, it came up when you had a moment alone at Doug and Tracy's:

You wait until you're one hundred percent sure everyone else is out of earshot.

"We need to talk." You say direct.

"Yeah, we do," he inhales, "i'm gonna be straight with ya' that was the best sex i've ever had." You open your mouth and close it, like a goldfish. Out of the list of things you had expected him to say, that didn't even make top 50.

"I-uh, come again?"

"No I haven't since then unfortunately." He smirks.

"Phil," You sigh disappointedly.

"C'mon, you're telling me that wasn't the best sex of your life? Hm?" He stares into your eyes. You would never admit it to him, but it really was the best night of your life. You remember the way he used his hands and mouth. How he made you scream with only two fingers. You were awakened from your daydreaming by his chuckling.

"That's what I thought."

"Phil I have no idea-"

"Yeah sure you don't now listen, I had a good time, you had a good time. Both of us just got out of a relationship so we're not looking for anything too serious. So I propose a friends with benefits agreement."

"What?" You say, almost too loudly.

"Lower your voice, I mean I don't see the big deal. All it would be is meaningless sex, anytime we want. NO strings attached. And we could break it off at any point. What do you say?" He puts out his hand.

"Really? We're gonna shake on it?," his expression doesn't falter, "fine. But we have to agree to not catch feelings and if we do we must break off the agreement immediatley."

"Sweetheart, don't take this the wrong way but that's not gonna happen." He nodded towards his hand and you shook it, not realising what the hell you just got yourself into.

Back to the present moment, you were talking with some of Stu's work colleagues when you felt a presence behind you:

"Sorry guys do you mind if I steal her for one second?" A voice you would recognise in a crowd of screaming people says. All the men nodded as you felt a strong hand grip your arm and drag you away.

He pulled you into the bathroom, shoved you against the door and locked it. You try to avoid his gaze but he grabs your chin forcing you to look at him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He grunts.

"Avoiding you? I'm not avoiding you."

"Don't lie to me." He hardens his grip, squishing your cheeks together. You thighs clamp together.

"I'm not lying to-" Your cut of by your own moan as his hands reach under your dress and rub over your clit through your panties.

"What was that? Hm?" He prompts but your mind is too fogged with the pleasure he's currently giving you.

He moves his other hand from your face down to your breasts and begins fondling them, playing with your nipples through the fabric. Your head is spinning.

"What, you like that?," he scoffs, "of course you do." Your eyes are screwed shut but you know he has a cocky grin on his face.

He stops his actions completley and before you can protest, he pulls down your panties and shoves his two fingers inside you, curling them also. You let out a loud moan, aware that anyone passing by would've heard it.

He must've seen the slight panic on your face because he says: "Don't be shy baby, let them hear how much of a slut you are for me." You moan in response.

You hear his belt being undone as well as his fly, you look down seeing his bulging dick through his pants. You move your hand, pull him out and begin to slowly pump your hand up and down. He moans loudly as you start to kiss his neck. He moves his fingers faster, bringing you to the brink of an orgasm. Your pace quickens as you look up at him he places his mouth on yours, sharing breaths.

"Shit, i'm close." You squeak out. Hearing this he stops his movements. You open your mouth to curse at him when he silences you by thrusting into you, you wrap your legs around his hips and claim his mouth.

The pair of you fight for dominance in a clash of teeth and tongues. He ultimately wins, thrusting up into you at a pace that has you moving up and down the wall. You break away to catch your breath, he bites your bottom lip and pull on it lightly. You let out a whimper and claw at his back.

"You like that? You dirty little slut, this is what you get for avoiding me.." He speaks deeply. You can feel yourself getting close.

"Phil.." You warn, tears forming in your eyes.

"Scream my name baby, let everybody know who's fucking you this good." His hand moves down to rub harsh circles on your clit.

"Oh shit.."

"That's it let it all out, cum for me baby.." He groans, he leans down, kissing and sucking your neck. You moan in unison, he finds your sweet spot and bites down.

"Fuck!" You scream out the pleasure exploding over you, your legs begin to shake.

"Oh shit, oh shit!" Phil whimpers, shooting his load inside of you. Once you calm down and your legs stop shaking, he places you on the ground. You look at yourself in the mirror and fix your appearance as an attempt to look presentable. After he pulls his pants up, he grabs your panties and puts them on for you. Raising to your level he says:

"Now your gonna go back to that party with my cum still inside you," he kisses you, "meet me outside at 9. We're not done yet." He gives you one last kiss, a slap on the ass and opens the door for you.

You walk out the door with a huge grin on your face and Phil's cum trickling down down your legs.

#bradley cooper #bradley cooper x reader #phil wenneck #phil wenneck x reader #the hangover #x reader #smut #tumblr polls #friends with secrets

[sleepyhutcherson]

wish i wasn’t so tired

on your way back home an argument between you and mike gets heavy when the words “this isn’t love, is it?” slips from one of you.

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: argument, use of y/n, miscommunication, angst, reference to marriage, not a happy ending? boygenius lyrics being referenced </3

a/n: tired of writing fluff (jk i love fluff) but i come from a miserable fandom (before i entered the jhutch one) aaand im so used to writing heavy angst. anyway, i should be working on my request not this but :p

What a perfect scenery to go with the intense argument. the rain angrily hits against the window drowning out any sound with the harshness of it. Unfortunately, not enough to drown your voice nor Mike’s, the rain mimicking the aggression and anger of your voices.

“I don’t remember,” Mike repeats, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough his knuckles turned white. He was speeding, trying to get home.

“I just want to know what happened! You came home with your knuckles busted, blood everywhere and you’re suddenly unemployed, and you won’t even tell me what happened?!” You're facing him but his focus is on the road (as it should) and there’s this dull, emotionless expression on his face that makes you feel alone.

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment you think maybe he won’t say anything at all. He continues driving, his gaze fixated on the road while you stare at him feeling so stupid. You close your eyes, wishing you could disappear from this moment. Wishing you could just apologise to him, but you knew better, you had no reason to apologise to him. You were just concerned about him, you just wanted to know why his knuckles were bloody.

You blink when you realise Mike is pulling to the side of the road, putting the car in park.

“This isn’t love, is it?” Mike asks, meeting your eyes now. There’s a sadness to them that you’re familiar with, you see those sad brown eyes whenever he’s overwhelmed, stressed, tired of work, when his aunt calls, when abby ignores him after an argument but never towards you.

And those words. the question. The genuine curiosity to his tone when he asked it.

“W-What?” You stammer, hoping that maybe you misheard him. But you knew you didn’t.

“I mean, all we do is argue.” You sit up straight, turning away from Mike. You stare straight forward, you wish the road wasn’t so empty maybe you could distract yourself by looking for different licences plates.

You swallow, your throat dry suddenly. “Then what is it?” If it’s not love then what it is?

None of you have a response which only makes it worse. You loved mike, you really did, you never doubted that. There was a moment a few months ago where the two of you referenced getting married soon, Mike giddy about proposing, and you were over the moon about the idea.

And now?

Mike loves you, he’s never felt so in love with someone until he met you, never felt more loved by anyone else but you. But recently, his job has been killing him and he’s only worked at it for three days. his sleeping schedule is fucked, he isn’t ever really sleeping like most people do, not in the way that one falls asleep to get rest but in the way that he’s going back to the same dream every night looking for something—or, someone, in his case. His aunt is trying to take custody of Abby and he can’t let that happen but God he’s so fucking scared.

But he won’t say any of this to you. Not about how stressed he’s been, how tired, how scared and sad. Fuck’s sake you don’t even know that he could lose custody of Abby.

“Maybe it isn’t,” You say, not daring to turn to look at Mike. “But can��can I at least pretend that you love me?” Your voice is small, ready to break.

Mike’s brows furrow, he can hear the hurt in your voice. He hates hurting you. He can never just shut the fuck up can he? He didn’t mean to say what he did, he really didn’t. “Y/n, I… I do love you, so, so much.” Mike reaches for you, cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watery, full of tears that are ready to spill.

“You do love me?” You ask, looking up, your eyes locked with Mike’s. He frowns at your words.

“I’ll always love you. I hate hurting you. I’m so sorry.” He says through a clenched jaw, his words a little sharp layered with a desperation to get you to believe him. He pulls you in, peppering kisses on your face. it’s not enough, he thinks, you deserve so much more than this—than him.

“Then why do you?” You whisper, bringing Mike to halt. He pulls from you, staring at you with the most hurt expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I just…just want to know you—to help you, but you’re always pushing me away.”

He looks down at his bruised knuckles with shame, falling quiet suddenly. You know about his brother, about the entire incident, and about his parents but he never told you just how much it all affected him. how it still affects him.

You place your hand over his, gently rubbing over the healing bruise. They looked nasty even after days, too vicious for Mike. He loves how you touch him, he doesn’t care that his knuckles sting at the touch because he longs for your touch, desperate for it. He becomes more needy for it while you two are arguing, he wishes he could just pull you in while you were biting at each other, wanting nothing more but to be held by you. He would allow you to continue to bite, he wouldn’t mind if you continued to sink your teeth into him; he would take the pain, endure it even…if you just held him.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, “I wish I wasn’t so tired...” he exhales, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m tired.” It comes out weaker than he hoped, his words falling and breaking.

“oh, Mike,” you sigh, reaching up and now it’s your turn: you cup his face, your other hand reaching up to run it through his curls. “Talk to me. you know that’s what i’m here for.” You keep your tone gentle, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb.

Mike knows this. he knows that if he could talk to anyone that it would definitely be you. He just can’t. he doesn’t understand it either, doesn’t know why he can’t just open up.

He doesn’t want to talk, not really. He doesn’t want you to think he’s broken. he doesn’t want you to know how much of a mess he is, how he thinks his life is slowly falling apart right now. How he might lose custody of his little sister. How he’s looking for his brother in his dreams that are turning into nightmares. How he thinks he may be losing you, too.

“Can we just go home?” He croaks, his eyes welling up with tears. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want you to see him cry either.

You frown. You just wanted to be there for him, you wish he would let you help him, if that’s too much for him then you’ll sit there and listen. You just wanted to know what was hurting him, who hurt him. God, you just wish you could read his mind.

You frown when he pulls away from you starting up the car. You just wanted to help. You wanted to take whatever struggles he had, most of all you wanted to know what he was struggling with. What was bothering him? If only he talked to you. But clearly he wasn’t going to open up anytime soon.

You force an “okay,” accepting your loss.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie

[ageofevermore]

IT MAKES YOU MINE

SUMMARY — in the days leading up to your twentieth birthday, you seek the one thing you’ve never been able to find; your soulmates

WARNINGS — anxiety attack, omegaverse, soulmates, natasha being a worrywart 

heart masterlist, tomorrow at one 

In all the ways to spend the days leading up to your birthday, you had never that you’d sulk your way into a convention center for lost Omegas. Truthfully, you had always thought that you;d have no problem connecting with your pack, and your mates, but in nineteen years, you had never even seen an Alpha bear a soulmark similar to yours; and you have five. In nineteen years, that endless fire of hope that burned in your belly dwindled farther and farther down until it became a dull spark, the butt of a sparkler on the fourth of July– hopelessness. 

The convention center is just about as busy as you would’ve expected it to be, but it doesn’t comfort you any to know your worries were right. It was the first convention of the summer season, a period of months where being without a meaningful relationship weighs on hearts the most. For you, summertime and Christmas hurt the worst. For you, living through these weeks and months with nothing but isolation breaks your heart into pieces that can't be mended.

Growing up, you were never an overly excitable or happy kid. You tried your best in your academics, in your relationships and extracurriculars, you were sweet, and you were easy, but you were riddled with paralyzing anxiety that always pulled you out of the fun you were trying to drown yourself in, and as you got older, depression kept you fully on the shore. Most doctors have assured you that being united with your pack will ease your symptoms; headaches, nausea, spells of dizziness, and paralyzing dark days that bind you to the center of your empty bed. For as hard as your symptoms prove to be, you’ve never had any luck like your mother. Your mother passed away two years ago in the same way your father had been taken. If you had one thing, it wasn’t a clean track record.

Being in the convention center was enough to set you on edge. The soulmarks that decorated your soft body burned the longer you remained uneasy, just like they did every time, and your breath began to pick up in the shallows of your scratchy throat. You’d been in the convention center for all of thirty minutes, already desperate for an exit despite a lack of booths. Alphas hadn’t even began to scour for their lost omegas and already you needed an out.  

A defeated sound escaped your chest as your arms brushed against other excitable Omegas. You knew this would become just another bad idea, especially when you decided to come alone, after one-to-many anxiety attacks that became like rabbit holes of bad days, you had promised your mother that you would stop venturing out of your safe spaces alone; that had only lasted a few weeks after her death before it felt suffocating to always bother your less than affectionate and very intentionally scattered siblings.

You were in a disoriented panic, so focused on the blinking red exit sign ahead of you that you hardly realized that you had set her course straight for a female Alpha. It wasn't intentional, really it wasn’t, you just needed to escape, and the women had been right in your way. But, you hadn't known that until you went barreling into her chest. The Alpha growled deeply in her chest, having not expected to be plowed into, but her defenses fell at the submissive whimper that escaped you.

You couldn’t look up from your trembling hands, stuttering over an apology as you bounced between both feet nervously,  "S-Sorry Alpha. I wasn't, I wasn't looking. S-Sorry."

The woman, having not intended on staying at the convention long anyway, could easily scent the presence of an anxiety attack presenting within your chest. An anxiety attack that had been presenting long before you had stumbled into her space.

"Omega." The woman's voice was steady, and dominating. It wasn't at all her Alpha voice; that would've had you on your knees, but rather a dominating tone that she tucked away to work quite a few kinky minded men and women into submission. It startled your attention away from your fingers successfully, and your soft brown eyes went wide seeing just who you had stumbled into. Not only had you disrupted an Alpha's personal space, but Natasha Romanoff's. That only sent another harsh wave of anxiety rippling through your tight belly.

"I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I didn't, I'm so sorry!" If Natasha weren't so worried about your increasing heart rate, she would've smiled fondly at how skittish you were with a fluttering heartbeat that sounds like butterfly wings in a breeze. She'd hardly had any good experiences at conventions like these, especially once she's been spotted, but she felt responsible to overlook and make sure the presenting Alpha's had the right intentions with these otherwise vulnerable, and most times bratty, Omegas.

Natasha looks over the nametag pinned to your soft colored top and she prused her lips in admiration, Y/N. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. "It's alright, Omega. Come on, let's get you somewhere quieter." Natasha takes a hold of your trembling right hand, cursing lowly at how cold you must be if your icicle fingertips were any indication. She's not sure if it's from your  anxiety or just general coldness either.

"N-No it's really okay. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." You anxiously responded, trying to pull away from Natasha but failing with how weak you had become beneath the clutches of an attack. You hadn't had one in months, and it was becoming apparent as you were rusty in all of your self-regulated coping mechanisms.

"Omega," Natasha flickers her eyes down to the nametag again, "Y/N, I wasn't asking."

You whimpered, dropping your head in shame and submission as you allowed Natasha to lead you into a small conference room isolated from the rest of the madness. It was only when the door was fully shut that you could remember how you had to breathe to calm your racing heart; something you often forget when you become like this.

"Hey, none of that." Natasha fret, pulling your cold and clammy hands away from your forearms when you began to scratch at them anxiously. God, she didn't know why she felt so drawn you, but every part of her body was screaming at her to help by doing more than just standing idly by, but she didn't know you, and she didn't know what you responded well to. "Good girl." Natasha praised when you let her grab your hands, not even trying to pull away this time.

"It's loud in there, huh?" Natasha cooed. She's experienced a handful of panic attacks herself, all due to her time as an assassin and an avenger. She didn’t want to imagine what had triggered this in you. When the Omega gave her a soft nod, eyes flickering around the room nervously, Natasha let go of one of her hands; that were shaking significantly less, and touched her chin softly, leading her gaze back to her emerald eyes. “You’re safe in here, Omega. But I need you to focus on me, okay? Y/N, hey-” Natasha doesn’t get the chance to continue. She would’ve asked the trembling girl to start counting to five, but before she could, a sweet albeit timid and shaky voice was ringing in her ears.

“P-you.” She pleaded shyly, cheeks becoming a hot red at the prospect of sharing her name with the Alpha. you was never the best with figures of authority, especially in such a vulnerable state. It’s one of the reasons her mother homeschooled her for so long.

“Hey, okay sweetheart.” Natasha smiles softly, not wanting to startle the Omega that’s slowly beginning to find her footing again. Natasha doesn’t even think she’s noticed that she’s stopped shifting her weight, and that she’s gripping onto Natasha’s hand like she’s dependent on it. God, her heart is going to ache when she has to let this little Omega go.

Natasha still hadn’t found her Omega. Her ache for that intimate connection was intensifying as the years passed, and it was often a conversation at pack meetings. By all means, Tony Stark could have found their Omega seven times over in a matter of hours, but they didn’t want it that way. They wanted to feel the magic of meeting by accident, by authentically falling in love and discovering one another. But God did Natasha crave one of these sweet creatures to call her own through every dawn and dusk.

“How can I help you, You?” Natasha asked, backing the two of them up so that she was sitting down in the office chair, looking up at You. Her jawline was soft, but her bitten lip and clenched teeth made it appear harsher than it was. That tension started to fall from her face when she looked down at Natasha, feeling like she had some of the power in this position. Natasha had hoped moving to sit would give You that security, and her lips twitched watching the brunette girl come apart from her worries.

“Y-You’ve already helped me.” The Omega frowned, not understanding what more Natasha was willing to do for her. This was more than anyone had done for her in months. You hated being alone, but it was easier to leave when she didn’t have anything to hold onto.

“You’re still shaking, honey.” Natasha frowned, reaching for the younger Omega and leading her forward. “I’m going to pull you into my lap, is that okay?” Natasha asked, tracing every feature on You’s face to indicate she wasn’t okay with that kind of contact. She understood completely if the Omega protested. They were strangers. Even if biologically they were Alpha and Omega, nothing would permit for You to be stripped of her right to choose what she was comfortable with. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” Natasha smiled fondly when You nodded. She hadn’t even had to think about her response, just nodding softly and shyly. Natasha was beginning to think the brunette girl in her arms didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

“Please.” You’s cheeks burned, her chin dropping farther into her chest as she recoiled into herself. Natasha felt her belly spark at the sight, biting back a giggle at the submissive of the Omega. She would’ve pressed for more than from the small girl, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t get more than a whiny ‘please’  in response.

Natasha moved to grab at your waist, letting go of your hands fully for the first time in twenty minutes. You felt like you were floating again, like a butterfly in the breeze, without her grounding touch, but breathed in sharply when Natasha’s fingers brushed against the skin of your hip accidentally. In the Alpha’s innocent attempt to pull you into her embrace, her bracelet had gotten caught on a loose thread of your shirt, revealing a small pink soulmark on your hip.

Natasha’s eyes were glued to the pink mark, her own heart rate increasing in her chest. Right where the skin on her hip was scarred over from a soviet slug, right in the place where all of her mates had her soulmark, you had the same one. A pair of pink ballet slippers etched in first position.

At the hitch of Natasha’s breath and her following silence, you jerked backward, away from the Alpha, away from her touch, away from her comfort. Your thoughts were once again reeling at the prospect of what could’ve happened to change the atmosphere between the both of you so drastically, and the calm Natasha had helped you work towards had been dismantled easily, panic settling alight in your belly again.

“I’m sorry! I-Im sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I’m sorry, A-Alpha!” You sobbed, backing yourself into a corner when the distant glaze in Natasha’s green eyes softened once more and her breathing evened out as she pulled herself together. There wasn’t any time at all for Natasha to react, to ease your spiraling panic and start the settling process again, because by time she got her emotions into check, and could fully process how badly you were blubbering, the world became dark. The walls felt like they were brushing against you, the floor felt like it was opening beneath your feet, farther and farther away from your head as it chased it, until eventually your body crumbled and your consciousness went with it.

-

The convention center clinic smelt like expired antibacterial, and the scent was beginning to give Natasha a headache, but she hadn’t been too focused on it. After coming to her senses, and admittedly, acting on her Alpha impulse which she hadn’t wanted to do at all, she had called for the med squad to assess you in the lower level clinic. Natasha would’ve felt more content taking you back to the tower, but she knew that was a major overstep. She hadn’t had the chance to tell you about the soulmark, hadn’t had the chance to ask if you had any more, and she was almost positive that you hadn’t made the connection from ballet slippers to Black Widow.

Natasha had learned quite a bit from the medical staff as they rushed around the small infirmary. Their frantic rushing wasn’t in concern for your condition, they were just frazzled by the presence of an Avenger, and if she weren’t so in her head with worry, Natasha would’ve laughed. The staff had managed to pull up your medical records, leaving Natasha’s heart heavy in her belly just thinking about all that her little Omega suffered. Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. It seemed that your list of horrors was ongoing and unforgiving.

Natasha was on her feet at the first sign of you coming to consciousness. You, her omega, whimpered sleepily and in discomfort, shifting around the stiff cot until you abruptly recognized that you weren’t at home. Natasha forced a smile onto her lips, stepping into your line of sight and watching as your heart rate spiked on the monitor you were attached to.

“Hey, Hey, you’re okay, love. You’re okay, darling.” Natasha coos. She wants nothing more than to reach out and brush strands of unruly brown hair from your eyes, but she doesn’t want to cause another surge of anxiety through your already tight and recovering belly. “No, don’t pull that out sweetheart.” She stressed, watching you fumble with the IV in your arms.

The medical team explained your condition to Natasha after the Alpha had worriedly bared her teeth at them, saying that the small Omega had fainted due to the severity of the anxiety attack, but her severe dehydration hadn’t helped her either. Already Natasha was making that a note in her head. Three cups of water a day, at least.

“I-I don’t, please.” You begged, still focusing on the IV in your arm. You hated needles, and already feeling on edge in your own body, the intrusion of something you feared wasn’t a comfort. You had managed to pull the medical tape off of your arm, leaving a stinging feeling to bubble on the sensitive skin, but that’s as far as you had come before Natasha was grabbing your hands.

“You’re dehydrated, darling. It’s going to help you feel less dizzy.” Natasha enlightened, though she was sure you knew what it was doing. If fainting was on your chart as a common symptom of your anxiety, she was sure that you had been in this situation at least a handful of times. Seeing that the distress on your face didn’t ease, Natasha’s stomach clenched in guilt. She wished she knew how she could help. As an Alpha it was her job to bring peace and comfort to her Omega, but you were a stranger to her. She’d never been in such a difficult and intimate situation with her mates until much later in their relationship; this was all painfully new.

“Water.” You were floaty with the aftermath of anxiety and sleep, and Natasha could see as much. “Water.”

“We can get you some water, sweetheart. Can I leave you for a minute?” Natasha asked sweetly, not wanting to startle you when you looked to finally be settling into her comfort again. Guilt was ripping apart Natasha’s belly and had been for the last hour. Her reaction to your soulmark was the reason they’re here after all.

“Don’t leave. Don’t leave, please! I’m sorry.” You sobbed, beautiful brown eyes brimming with tears as panic swarmed your chest again like a constricting blanket. You hated hospitals and infirmaries. You hated being alone. You hated your anxiety, and how it claws up your chest and paralyzed you. You hated needles. Natasha was the only thing even remotely settling about your situation.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Omega.” Natasha’s tone was soft, but it was firm. It left you no room to argue, but neither of you believed she had the energy to do so either way. “I won’t leave, that’s fine. I can stay right here, but I will have to call a nurse then, okay? We can’t get you some water if we don’t move.” Natasha teased lightly, hopeful that it would ease your tight chest. You smiled bashfully, dipping your head down to look at your intertwined fingers.

“Are you okay?” You whispered so softly, Natasha almost hadn’t heard you. Her heart melted looking into your soft brown eyes, wondering how you were all alone at a convention like this when all you had done was prove that you have a heart of gold.

“Of course, I’m okay.” Natasha smiles softly, squeezing your hands.

“You got so quiet.” You whisper, scared that mentioning what had happened in the conference room upstairs would upset the Alpha and she would leave you here alone. “Did I do something wrong? W-When we were in the conference room?”

Natasha felt her heart grow three sizes at your revelation. She hadn’t even realized that was what you were implying, but the thought of you being so kind and attentive made her heart swell with pride and adoration. Maybe she was crazy, but already, she could see you fitting in perfectly with herself and the pack. You were exactly the sweetness that they needed, especially with Clint’s recent coming and going.

“Hey, keep breathing for me, sweetheart. You’re doing such a good job.” Natasha praised when she noticed the spike in your breathing again, your words coming out quick and stuttered. Natasha had never had to be this soft with any of her mates, it was refreshing. She felt like she was needed, as opposed to just feeling like she belonged. They were two very different feelings she’d come to find out. “I have a lot to tell you, sweetheart. But I think that pretty head of yours should get some real rest before we talk about it. But yes, I’m okay. I pinky promise.” Natasha had a feeling that you would enjoy the lighthearted gesture at the end of her sentence, and she wasn’t disappointed by the smile that split your cherry lips wide. You raised your pinky for Natasha to link her own with, a blush settling across the apples of your cheeks.  

“I’m okay to talk about it, if you want. It would help me feel better.” You said shyly. Natasha just wanted to squeeze you, but she refrained from physically melting at your reassuring words meant to comfort her. How was it that somebody in so much pain was so sweet and kind?

“That pretty little soulmark on your hip,” Natasha began, watching every miniscule part of you for your reaction. She knows the boys would’ve wanted to be with the both of you when you found out, but a part of Natasha knew that a situation like that would put you on edge for days. Already, Natasha was overwhelmed with an urge to protect you from harm, to love you entirely.  “Is my mark.”

You flinched backward, away from Natasha and into yourself and the uncomfortable white cot. You pulled her hands out of the Avengers embrace, dropping them into your lap as they began to tremble again. Natasha wasn’t offended by your reaction. She’d expected worse if she was being honest. Bucky had screamed and cursed when he had found out that Tony Stark was his mate, and when Tony had found out that Steve Rogers was his head Alpha, all hell had broken loose in the tower for days. You was a gentle addition to the memory book in Natasha’s head of all these moments, a light ripple in the waves along the shorelines, a monarch butterfly drifting in a sweet spring breeze. You were refreshing.  

“B-but, you have Mr. Barnes! And-And, Mr. Stark! And Mr. Barton! And Mr. Rogers! A-And I’m just me.” It was Natasha’s turn to flinch. In all of the responses she’d come up with in her head. Of all the responses that she’s heard and been told of, never once had she thought you would feel out of place because of her social status. Never once did she think her sweet little Omega would put herself down all because of wealth and class. All because of the initiative.

“Y/N.” Natasha couldn’t help how rough her voice became while addressing you, but she wouldn’t allow your insecurities to fester any deeper than they already had. Your brow quivered at her tone,  “You are our equal. This,” Natasha lifted her shift, revealed the outline of her mark to you. It was a beautiful thing really. How on your own body, your mark is just a simple sketch, but on your mates it’s so much more. It’s a soft color that represents them, most are usually black, but Natasha’s, hers is a beautiful soft pink. She wishes she could bear that color on her own skin. “Is my mark. It makes you mine. It makes me yours.”

“C-Can I see my mark? Please.”

Your soulmark is a simple, sweet, heart. It’s just to the left of where Natasha’s heart actually sits, and only half colored in with a soft brown ombre. Brown had never made sense to Natasha or her mates, but seeing you, feeling your radiant and elegant energy, falling in deep with your soft and gentle mannerisms, brown was the perfect color to describe you, though not to take away from how beautifully soft your hazel brown eyes are. But, now understanding why the heart etched on her body was half empty broke her heart. You were a lost little girl. You had always been a lost little girl. You had always felt half empty. Natasha hoped that being united, being together, would change that quickly. Natasha hoped that sometime soon you would come home to her and them.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #alpha!natasha romanoff #alpha!natasha romanoff x omega!reader #omega!reader #omegaverse

[veemunson86]

Meet your daughter

He's baaccckkkkkkk for pt 4!!

Series masterlist

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･

*Eddie's pov*

I gasp as my eyes shot open, my body aching.  The memory of what happened ran through my head, but it was all alittle fuzzy. I remembered y/n holding me and crying.. I remember her telling me about the baby, wait! The baby!

I got up as fast I could and looked around. Where was everyone ?? It felt as of I just closed my eyes for a minute, but everyone was gone now. I need to get out of here.

*y/ns pov*

It's now been a year and a half. The our beautiful baby girl was now about 9 months old and she was perfect. She didn't fussy a whole lot, and loved babbling. And she looked just like Eddie, she has his eyes, and his frizzy hair.

It's been a Rollercoaster. The first few days with her were crazy. I barely slept, but Steve and Dustin came over every few hours to help with her The best they could. They come over just about every day, and Amelia adored them both, especially Dustin. She couldn't speak yet, but she definitely made lots of noise, and loved being outside and around animals. She was very gentle. She was perfect.

There wasn't anything we had planned for the day, so as it was a beautiful day, I was gonna take her to the park. That was until I saw him.

I took Amelia a bath last night so I wasn't going to bathe her again just for her to get dirty at the park. I got her changed I to a new diaper, and a cute outfit Mrs wheeler bought for her, which was cute white and yellow dress with a diaper cover.



I put her frizzy hair into 2 little pigtails which were small and stuck straight up, and I put 2 little matching bows on each pigtail.

She sat still as I did so, every so often looking around. I carried her down to the kitchen, while I made myself a cup of coffee in my little Mason jar with a lid and straw, that was about the perfect serving to get the morning going. I knew she would be getting fussy when she got hungry so I pre made her a bottle, as well as a few teething snacks she grew to love. A big smile grew on my face as she babled "ready to go beautiful?" I kissed her chubby little cheek. Little did I know in about 30 seconds my whole life was change change.

I got her strapped in her stroller so we could walk to the park, and I grabbed my Mason jar with the coffee, and I walked to the door. As soon as I opened I saw Dustin and Steve about to knock, both out of breath and looking like they had seen a ghost. Maybe because they had.

"Wow you guys okay?  You look like you just saw a ghost" I said with a slight giggle.

"Y/n you're not gonna believe this, take a breath. We don't know how how, but he's here, said he got our through the watergate." I felt my heart race "w-who got out where through the Watergate?..." it couldn't be..

My eyes went wide and my breath caught in my throat. I dropped the coffee cup, glass shattering, and coffee going everywhere as I saw him. Eddie. My Eddie. How was this possible?

*Eddie's pov*

I saw the glass shatter, and my heart broke as I saw the baby girl in the stroller next to y/n. I slowly made my way over ." Y/n.. baby i- I don't know how I'm here. But I am. I woke up in that place a few hours ago. I went around trying to find my way out. I- I tried finding you at your parents house, but someone else lives there now. So I found Dustin, and he told me you lived here.."

Her eyes were glossy with tears, and I couldn't tell if she looked happy or sad, but I could tell she was shocked. "It all felt so quick. Like I closed my eyes for a minute and then I was all alone. I could breath fine, my wounds are healed.. I don't know what happened .. please say something .."

*y/ns pov*

I heard everything he was saying, and I heard his voice soften at the end of what he was saying. "I-.." I paused before just running Into his arms, hugging him with everything I had in me. Tears ran down My face as I felt his arms wrapped around me. "I - I thought I lost you for good." I sobbed softly.

I felt him kiss My head softly and say" I'm here baby.. I'm here now. And I promise I'm not going anywhere. " he rubbed my back. For him this must have been so weird, not knowing. "I uhm.. was just about to go to the park with Amelia, wait Amelia! Yeah we had a girl.." I said happily with tears streaming down my cheeks.

He teared up and looked over to the stroller" oh wow.. a baby girl.. I'm a dad.. and you're a mom.."

He said in a bit of disbelief.  "Henderson told me it's been a year and a half.. so she's already 9 months..." I nodded "she is. She's so big. Come on let's see her."

Amelia was sitting in her stroller clapping and babbling as Dustin made funny faces at her. "She loves dustin.." I said smiling softly. "Amelia, babygirl I have someone very very special for you to meet." I said taking her out of the stroller, picking her up.

I saw Eddie tear up at the sight of her and my heart felt so happy in the moment. "Oh wow.. she's beautiful. She looks just like you." He said through some tears.  He quickly wiped them away, and picked her up.

*Eddie's pov*

Wow. My daughter. Hard to believe just a few hours ago, I was just a regular  guy. And now I'm a dad. She was beautiful, just like y/n. " hi there... I'm your daddy.." I said bouncing her a bit "you are so beautiful." I said kissing her cheek softly. I chuckled softly as she squealed and grabbed a bit of my hair, pulling it in different directions. Y/n giggled softly and pulled her little hands away. "Careful babygirl. " y/n told her. This was My life now. A perfect t girlfriend.  A perfect daughter.  This is something I never imagined would be my life.

Tags:

#dad eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson dad imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson sad imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie angst #stranger things stories #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagines #stranger things #dustin henderson #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot

[neonghostlights]

A/N: I am reposting this because I accidentally originally posted this at 6 am (;

Warnings: Death (Reader is dead and a ghost), loneliness (both reader and Eddie are very lonely), mention of dealing drugs

Wordcount: 1.1k

Series Masterlist

The Shortcut Chapter Two: The Wait

He took the same shortcut as last time, winding through the woods and avoiding the fallen branches and rotted roots that would trip him up like last time. 

Last time meaning every night had come here since the first time he saw you, hoping to get a glimpse of you again. 

It had been a month of coming to this cemetery almost every night just to leave disappointed again. 

Tonight he felt different though. The moon was full again, just like the last time he had seen you. He felt charged, electrical. His skin buzzed and glittered like the moon was shining directly on him alone. 

He had a good feeling, a theory that the moon being full helped him see you. 

He hoped like hell that he was right. 

The thought of possibly seeing you made him feel less alone. It didn’t help the overall creepiness of the woods, the way the branches reached and clawed at his jacket, and the way that he constantly looked over his shoulder at shadows that looked too human. 

It was Halloween night, after all. The whole world was supposed to be creepy. 

Eddie crossed the threshold into the cemetery, fighting the chill that rolled down his spine. 

His feet picked up, following the riding cemetery drive that would lead him to where you were. He scanned the lot, searching for any type of movement. 

He almost thought you wouldn’t be there, almost thought that you wouldn’t show until he happened to see you, smiling down at your headstone in front of you. 

Eddie let out a sigh of relief, heart skipping a beat at the sight of your ethereal beauty shining in the moonlight. 

You looked exactly the same as he last saw you a month ago, as if you had been frozen since he had last had the honor of laying eyes on you. 

He was so screwed. 

He wiped his hands on his jeans a few times  before clearing his throat and making his way towards you. He hadn’t thought about what to say when he actually did see you, but he knew he definitely didn’t want to scare you off. 

You spotted him before he had the chance to say anything, eyes landing startled on him, almost as if you had seen a ghost yourself. 

Eddie waved, a short wave, before saying hello to you. 

You stared at him for a moment longer before a smile crossed your features. 

“Hi, Eddie Munson,” you said, cheerfully. Like you were happy to see him too. 

Eddie reached you, standing on the other side of your grave. He wasn’t sure what to say now until he saw the way your eyes shone as you stared down at your grave with a smile. 

“Do you like the roses? I wasn’t sure-” 

“You did this?” You interrupted him, surprise evident in your face. 

Eddie had shown up a few days ago and decided to give your grave a deep cleaning. He scrubbed the years worth of dirt and grime, your name now easier to read. The weeds surrounding the base all got pulled too. He got some little vases, stuck them in the ground beside your stone and put red roses in them. He wasn’t sure if you even liked roses, it wasn’t like he could ask you. 

He learned a little bit about you then, like how you were born in 1933 and died in 1956. Besides your name, birthday, and date of death, there was no other information about you. 

He thought about going to the library to see what he could find about you, but it felt like that would be cheating. He didn’t want to pry into your past. He wanted to hear it straight from you. 

“Yeah, I did. I hope that’s okay,” Eddie admitted, suddenly feeling shy. Was cleaning your grave considered crossing a line? 

“Eddie,” you sighed dreamily with a sweet smile, “this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.” 

“I’m sure it’s not the nicest…” Eddie mumbled, kicking his feet a little. 

You nodded. “Oh, it is. So, I take it that you figured it out?” 

Now was Eddie’s turn to nod. “Yeah. I came back a week later and saw the name. At first I didn’t believe it but you did seem a little…” 

“Dead?” 

“I was gonna say ghostly,” Eddie corrected you with a laugh. 

You shrugged, wringing your hands tightly in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked, walking around the headstone to be closer to you. He didn’t dare try to touch you, he kept his distance.

“I don’t think I’m very good at talking to people,” you said softly. “It has been a very long time…I think.” 

“I think you’re doing a good job. How long do you think it's been since you…” 

You looked up at him with a sad look. “Since I died? It’s okay, Eddie. You can say it.  I’m not sure how long it's been. You’re dressed very differently so I’m assuming it’s been at least a little while.” 

Eddie laughed at the way you described his clothing. He couldn’t blame you, it was the same way some adults described his clothing style as well. 

“It’s 1986,” Eddie said, watching as the emotions crossed over your face. 

Shock. Anger. Sadness. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie apologized softly as you stared back down at the headstone again. 

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No. I think I want to be left alone,” you said, voice colder than it was before. 

“But why?” Eddie asked, panicked, not ready for you this to be over. He didn’t know if he would ever see you again. How many times could you get away with having a conversation with a ghost before the universe caught up with you? “Don’t go. We can talk about something else.” 

You shook your head, turning to walk between the headstones surrounding you until you disappeared into the night. 

Eddie promised himself on the walk home that that wouldn’t be your goodbye. Next time the moon was full, he was coming back. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson x ghost reader #eddie munson x ghost!reader

[writeyouin]

Can we have some fluff and angst with V x reader cause the reader is on her period and V never being around women much has no idea how to handle all the anger, food cravings, sadness and horniness 😂😂😂

V X Reader – Prepared For Anything

A/N – I was gonna make this a fem reader, but then I remembered there are other peeps with uterus’ and that’s cool too, so this is completely gender-neutral. Happy Bonfire Night. Also, just in time before the night is over.

Warnings – Slight NSFW

Rating – T

Throughout his life, or at least what little he could remember of it, V had accomplished a great deal. He had survived Larkhill. He had caused the explosion that had allowed his escape, working meticulously for months to coerce Doctor Delia Sturridge to give him everything he needed to do so. He had singlehandedly dug out the collapsed tunnels of the London Underground to create a base of operations. He had robbed, pilfered, and burgled everything that he could from Sutler and his so-called government, always stealthy and vigilant against anyone who might try to stop him.

One thing he hadn’t done was spend time around someone on their menstrual cycle… Until now.

There was a time that V had thought himself prepared for anything, but this was something else. It had started just a few days prior when you as his protégé had gone alone on a mission to rob a supply train heading straight to parliament. Normally, V didn’t mind where you went or what you did, respecting you as a fellow anarchist, but you had acted recklessly, and that was something he couldn’t have.

V was chaotic, but he was an organised chaos, like a storm in a teacup, waiting for the perfect moment to be unleashed unto an unsuspecting attendee of his tea party. Everything was timed perfectly. Normally, you respected that. Yet, only a few days ago, you made an unplanned attack that you weren’t wholly prepared for and although you weren’t caught, you had failed to exit the train properly and had come back crying with a dislocated shoulder.

After V had set your shoulder back into place and you had settled down, he had asked you why you had gone through with the robbery without planning it carefully. It was with a sheepish expression that you admitted that you just needed some things; things that V didn’t have. He pressed you further, and you had snapped at him, yelling that he didn’t get to know everything about you, and then you had started crying, frustrated that you couldn’t properly articulate what you meant before stomping away like a moody teenager.

To say V was surprised was an understatement, but he didn’t think much of it past the fact that perhaps you weren’t like him. There weren’t many humans who could survive the isolation of the Shadow Gallery without going mad, missing out on a regular life offered in the world above.

Later, V decided to see if you were okay. He found you in the kitchen hurriedly scarfing down chocolate at an ungodly rate. Although he was curious by the unusual breach of etiquette, V knew that was a battle that he didn’t wish to engage in, and so he backed away slowly, unnoticed by you.

Recklessness. Raging emotions. Intense cravings. If V didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that you were pregnant, but that wasn’t possible. Although he didn’t monitor your comings and goings from the Shadow Gallery, he knew that you hadn’t been fraternising with anyone; or at least he hoped you hadn’t. It wasn’t that he had any claim over you, but lately there had been stirrings of feelings in his chest; feelings that weren’t anger and hatred.

Shaking his head, V decided that whatever was going on with you would likely wear off or you would open-up to him about your feelings when you were ready.

Later that night, he opted to read Don Quixote, finding the titular character endearing on his quest to restore chivalry, though less relatable than he would have liked, seeing as V was anything but a hero. He was an anarchist full of hatred, wishing to free the people from their oppressors. V regularly thought himself to be a necessary monster masquerading as a man. However, one similarity between him and everyone else was that he too needed rest, and as he read further on, tiredness overcame him and he fell asleep on the small settee, the book resting on his chest.

Having been traversing the Shadow Gallery restlessly, the pain in your back and stomach easing for the first time in three days, you stumbled upon V, finding him in an unusually vulnerable position. You stalked over to him, drawn like a moth to a flame. He looked beautiful.

You knelt down on the floor next to him, taking your time to admire the scene. At any other time, you might have found it romantic, but now, you wanted more. How would it feel to be pinned under him? You could wear a mask so as not to risk seeing what he so carefully hid. It would be worth it to have him do as he pleased with you, using you for his needs until you were both exhausted and-

“(Y/N)?” V stated your name, apparently startled.

It was such a difference from his normally self-assured tone that you were certain that he saw exactly what you were thinking in your eyes; the windows to the soul always gave away secrets to those astute enough to decipher their messages.

Well, so be it. In for a penny, in for a pound, You thought haphazardly, before voicing a question you might never have asked under normal circumstances, though any circumstance concerning V was far from normal anyway.

“V, Do you want me the same way that I want you?”

V’s breath seemed to catch in his throat. He cleared it and sat up, staring at you through his grinning Guy Fawkes mask. “(Y/N), please tell me… What has changed between us of late?”

“Hormones.” You laughed drily, the only one to find the joke funny.

V nodded, taking your answer at face value.

“I see,” He said after a minute.

Then he stood up, finding that there was much to think about now that you had raised such a serious question, over something as simple and mundane as your monthly cycle. Ever reasonable, V opted to let you decipher your emotions once your hormones no longer had such a chokehold over you.

“Then please, if you feel the same in a week, ask me again then. I am certain that your feelings might have changed by then, and if they haven’t…” He paused ominously, walking to the door as he did so. “We may discuss the matter properly.” After that, he was gone, leaving the Shadow Gallery for the free space on the roof. While he was alone in the rain, worried about what an attachment to you could mean, you were alone in his library, feeling foolish and crying, before your more primal needs took over and you were merely hungry and frustrated once again.

Periods really were a bitch.

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#v #v for vendetta #v x reader #v for vendetta x reader #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #prepared for anything

[emmie-tt]

hello writer,

hope you're having a good day, can I request you a Harry Potter X reader post war where they both are raising ted together as friends but then Harry falls for the reader and reader doesn't know it.

Just Friends...

Description: Raising a child with your best friend is all fun and games until feelings start forming

WARNINGS: death, yelling

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

Y/N POV

This was not supposed to be happening..I look down at the people I called my parents for the past year as they lay dead on the ground. I look at Harry, my best friends, as his arms wrap around me. I hug him back as we cry together.

After a few minutes I remember something- more like someone. I pull back and look at Harry with wide eyes. "harry...teddy.."

His eyes widen as he stares back at me, after a minute of what looks to be a staring contest he grabs my hand and takes off running out of the great hall straight to where Ted was staying with one of Tonks friends house.

As we arrived I look at him and take a deep breath "what- who's gonna care for him? I mean- they didn't have any family did they?"

Harry shakes his head then looks at me "no...but they had us, they cared for us so the least we could do is care for their son."

My eyes widen at what he was saying. He noticed and sighed before continuing "y-you dont have to...I didn't mean to throw that on you.."

I shake my head "no- no I want to help...just didn't expect you to say that"

He chuckles softly and grabs my hand "we've got this...let's go get him.."

I nod and start walking into the house, we explain the situation then pick up baby Teddy...

Tears fill my eyes as I stare down at the small baby in my arms..the baby that didn't even get a chance to know his parents, the baby that was born into a world full of hate...

Harry gently wrapped his arms around me and Teddy attempting to comfort me

My body leans back against him as I attempt to keep my tears from falling, Teddy slowly stirs in my arms and looks up at me. A small smile takes over my face and Harry slowly leads me outside after grabbing Teddy's bags.

After a few hours we make it to the burrow. When we walk in all eyes land on us, Molly makes her way over to us and wraps her arms around us in a warm hug.

After a minute she pulls back and Ginny walks over and gently takes Teddy from my arms, after she walks away to take him to bed I turn around to face Harry as my arms wrap around his body.

We stand in the burrow kitchen hugging, crying and comforting each other for the next few hours before we finally head to bed deciding to sleep together since neither of us wanted to be alone.

-6 months later-

Y/N POV

It's been a long 6 months, Teddy has officially started crawling. Me and Harry made the decision to buy a small house together so we weren't staying at the burrow anymore.

Since living with Harry I've slowly started falling for him...how could I not? Watching him with Teddy makes my heart explode with happiness.

A few weeks ago Teddy started calling Harry Dada..We knew it would happen but it still surprised us to say the least. It made me realize that we aren't just Teddy's older siblings that have to care for him...were his parents...at least the closest thing to them now...

As I stand at the kitchen in the window lost in thought I feel a small hand touch my leg causing me to jump, then I hear a laugh coming from the kitchen doorway.

I look down and see Teddy sitting next to my leg staring up at me with his adorable smile..I pick him up and hold him close, my smile grows as he nuzzles his face into my neck

-HARRY'S POV-

I wake up to a small cry, I reach over and grab my glasses and put them on before turning to see if y/n was still asleep, I had came into her room last night after another nightmare.

I frown slightly when I see the bed is empty. My gaze snaps over to the crib in the corner of the room that has a whining baby in it. I get up and walk over to him and pick him up.

As we make our way out of the room and downstairs to make him his morning bottle I see y/n in the kitchen zoned out. I stand and admire her for a moment before snapping out of it.

I smile and set Teddy down when he starts squirming, he crawls his way over to her and grabs onto her leg causing her to jump. A laugh escapes my lips as she looks down at him before picking him up. I continue watching them as Teddy snuggles closer to her, watching her with Teddy is my favorite thing...She's so gorgou- wait. no she's my best friend...

A small sigh leaves my lips as I shake my head to try and get rid of the thoughts

Y/N POV

I turn around to face Harry only to find him leaning against the doorway with only his sleep pants on..

I look away from him to hide my blush, he makes his way towards us and kisses my forehead softly whispering a "good morning..."

I nod and say a small good morning back before busying myself with making Teddy his morning bottle, after it's made I take him into the living room and lay him down in his bouncer seat (were gonna say they have those things-) and give him his bottle before heading back to the kitchen

When I get there the kitchen is empty so I start with the dishes from last night before making some breakfast. As I flip the pancakes I feel arms wrap around my waist causing a gasp to fall from my lips.

I turn around and look at Harry who has a smirk on his lips, I gently smack his chest "you scared me!"

He laughs "your very jumpy this morning, everything okay?"

I nod and turn back around "just...another nightmare last night is all" I finish the food and set it onto plates before moving myself out of his arms and handing him his plate

He nods and rests his head on my back before huffing in annoyance when I move away. He takes the plate while looking at me with a playful glare. A giggle erupts from me as I kiss his cheek and walk off to the living room, I sit on the couch and start eating.

-HARRY'S POV-

After y/n took Teddy to the living room to give him his bottle I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After I finish with that I walk back to the kitchen to find her finishing up the dishes, a smile forms on my face.

I know I shouldn't be feeling like this, she probably doesn't feel the same way but...the heart wants what the heart wants right?

After a few minutes of just admiring her I walk over as finishes up breakfast and wrap my arms around her waist, she jumps again causing me to laugh softly.

She turns around in my arms and I stare down at her pretty face laughing harder when she gently smacks my chest and says "you scared me!"

"your very jumpy this morning, everything okay?'

She nods and turns back around which allows me to rest my head on her back and hold her close, a frown overtakes my face when she says "just...another nightmare last night is all"

An annoyed huff leaves my lips when she moves out of my arms. When she hands me my plate I playfully glare at her causing adorable giggles to leave her pretty lips.

I watch as she walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, she takes a seat on the couch so I walk in and sit down next to her and start eating.

-TIME SKIP 9 HOURS-

Y/N POV

As I finish getting Teddy ready for dinner, just into some comfier clothes. I sigh and head back to the kitchen somewhat glad when I find it empty.

Harry has been extremely touchy all day..It's driving me crazy. Also making it very hard to ignore my feelings for him. I set Teddy in his highchair and start getting stuff out for dinner when Harry comes inside.

He walks into the kitchen and over to Teddy kissing his forehead and nodding along to the small babbled that Teddy says. I watch them for a minute but quickly look away when he looks over at me.

As I finish dinner I make me and Harry's plates before giving Teddy things he can eat.

We sit down at the table and start eating. A very thick tension settles over us only letting up when we focus on the small boy who is making a mess..again

After we finish dinner Harry takes Teddy to give him a bath, I stay downstairs and clean up everything from dinner. Just as i'm about to finish up cleaning I hear someone clear their throat.

My head turns and I see Harry standing the doorway. He makes his way over to me and leans against the counter "you okay?"

I nod and go back to washing the dishes only to have my arm grabbed, my head snapped up to look at him "your not- what's wrong? did i do something?"

I sigh and set the plate down that I was washing "nothing is wrong. i'm fine."

He scoffs and pulls me close to him "right. you done lying to me yet?"

I groan and and push myself away from him. "this! this is what's wrong!"

He stares at me confused "what are you talking about?"

I sigh and motion back and forth between us "this. you. you and your touchiness! i-it's driving me insane! i'm trying so hard to not fall for you- well to ignore the feelings I have for you but you make it so hard! with the constant touching and helping and being an amazing dad! a-and the no shirts, and the sleeping in my bed! i'm in love with you but i'm trying to not be but your making it so damn har-"

He cuts me off with a kiss, a very passionate yet sloppy kiss. I gasp softly and kiss back while wrapping my arms around his neck as I deepen it slightly only to be interrupted by a small voice "Dada! Dada!"

We pull back and look over at Teddy who's crawling his way over to us with a smile. Harry smiles and leans down and picks him up before looking at me with a smile "you are supposed to be in bed little man"

I smile and kiss his cheek when Teddy laughs " awe did Dada try and put you to bed hm?" I take him from Harry's arms and hold him closely.

Harry smiles and kisses my forehead and chuckles "let's get you both to bed hm?"

I nod and start walking towards my room with Harry behind me following us. I set Teddy down in his crib and give him his pacifier.

We both stand and watch over Teddy as he falls asleep. Once he falls asleep I turn and look at Harry who's already looking at me. I smile as he leans in and kisses me softly.

We make our way to my bed and lay down facing each other. As we stare at each other I finally speak up "what does this mean..?"

He smiles and cups my face gently "I'm hoping you'll be my girl.."

I smile and nod kissing him again. He kisses back and pulls me close to him. After awhile we finally settle down and rest my head against his chest and relax.

He holds me close while rubbing my back gently. "goodnight my love.."

I smile cuddling close to him "goodnight..."

TAGLIST

@notthewaythatiloveyou

I love this so much!! I'm so sorry it took so dang long o write but I hop you like it!!

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #teddy lupin #x reader #neytirisl-t #jakesl-t

[here4kpopfics]

Nightcap | Vernon

Pairing: Vernon x (f)reader 

Genre: smut, fluff

AU: established relationship

Wordcount: 3.1k

Summary: Every time you visit your boyfriend, you go through a few days of jet lag. But Vernon is needy and tries to help you out. 

Warnings: Language, pet names, noona kink, oral (f receiving…idk how to explain the m receiving), overstimulation, Vernon’s a subby needy boy, grinding fun times, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), very light consensual somnophilia, sleepy sex, they’re just two goobers in love and tired but needy.

Rating: M/18+

AN: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @yoongimingyu I don’t even know how to explain myself for this. Thank you @playmetheclassics for beta-ing and @classicscreations for the banner. 💜

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Jet lag is a bitch. 

Every time you fly out to Seoul to visit your boyfriend, you end up sleeping for most of the first two days.

You started planning your flights to make it so you get there in the morning and have to spend the entire day awake, so you fall asleep at a more acceptable time. But then you’d end up sleeping to make up for the lack of sleep on the plane, waking up in the afternoon and still feeling exhausted. 

So this time, you decided to do things differently.

You planned to come to Seoul a few days before Valentine’s Day so you’d have enough time to adjust. The second you made it to Vernon’s apartment, you gave him one kiss, said you loved him, and passed the fuck out in his bed. 

Your plan more or less succeeded. You ended up sleeping until the following day, but you were still groggy with your body trying its best to adjust to the time zone change. 

Vernon finally pulled you out of bed, dragging you outside to spend the day with him in the beautiful weather and just wander the streets of Seoul. It was great; Vernon was a lot more touchy than usual, holding you close and the random touches that made your skin feel like it was on fire. His laugh kept your attention, booming with every story about work you had probably already told him on one of your many FaceTime dates. And he took you to one of his favorite restaurants, continuing to be extra touchy with you with his hand on your thigh the entire time. 

But once you got back, you went straight back to his bed to take another nap. Vernon lets you sleep alone, napping himself for a bit on the couch before scrolling through the photos and videos on his phone for fun until he lands on one you sent him a month ago. A video he had promised to delete, but never did because he loved it too much. 

Most people would agree one of the downsides of the long-distance relationship is the inability to be intimate with their partner. Yes, there’s phone sex and facetime. But it’s nothing in comparison to being able to feel your partner. 

Naturally, you’d send each other spicy photos, rarely videos, that you both agreed on deleting after a maximum of three days. Videos were to be deleted immediately after viewing. 

But there was one night when you were lonely and missing Vernon so much that you made a video for him. 

And he never deleted it. He couldn’t. How could he? You’re laying on your bed, fucking yourself with a dildo he half-jokingly had made after his cock using one of those at-home kits and moaning his name over and over. 

Deleting it would be a crime. 

He calculated the risks of waking you up and finally got off the couch. 

You’re finally back in dreamland again when you feel a dip in the bed behind you, a soft hand landing on your hip as Vernon curls up behind you.

You groan in annoyance and  comfort when he presses his body flush against you. The hand on your hip dragging up your waist, his pinky taking your shirt with it. 

“I’m trying to nap, Vernon.”

“But I’ve missed you, noona.” His lips find their place on your shoulder, kissing down to your neck and hovering above your ear. 

And that’s when you feel it. 

His hips slowly rut against your ass, his obvious erection rubbing against your pajama shorts. His hand disappears from your waist, but you feel it behind you as he removes himself from his underwear, so the next rut has his erection rubbing against your ass, slipping between your legs. 

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a moan. 

“Vernon. I said no.” His hand finds its way under your shirt, grabbing any flesh he can. 

“But noona,” his heavy panting hits your ear as he picks up the pace of his rutting. “Noona, I need you. Please?”

God, his begging voice when he’s been sleeping. It’s so deep and raspy that you have to bite down harder not to make a noise. The breathy moans mixed with the feeling of his cock pressing between your legs is almost too much. 

His hand slides under your shorts and past your underwear, middle finger pressing immediately against your clit before traveling down further to press against your entrance. A moan slips past your lips, and you push your ass back against him as his middle finger makes it past your entrance. 

“Fuck, fine,” you groan, pulling his hand out from your shorts and rolling him on his back. “But you’ll have to beg properly and be a good boy for me.”

“Yes, noona. I’ll be good.” His voice is low, a smile on his face as he carefully tucks his erection back into his underwear. He naturally raises his hands above his head, wrist on wrist, like he’s already tied up. 

“You better. I have no issue going back to sleep, baby.” 

“No, please don’t.” His sleepy voice is slowly fading and becoming whinier . “Let me be good for you.” You raise an eyebrow, sitting up and removing your clothes. 

“Oh? And how do you suggest that, baby? Hmm?” He takes no time to answer back, no hesitation. 

“Sit on my face.” 

You smirk, throwing a leg over his abdomen, straddling him easily. “Yeah? And then what?” 

He’s already panting as you crawl farther up, grabbing the shirt you were just wearing and tying his wrists together, making a small handle for you to hold onto when needed. 

“Make you come with my tongue. Twice.”

“Twice? Just like that?” 

He grins, a cocky lopsided smile on display as you move slowly up his body.

“Yeah, twice. And then I’ll fuck you so good. You’ll be so proud of me, noona.”

“I love that confidence, baby.” You pat his cheek. “Let’s see if you can live up to your words.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re already lowering yourself over his mouth. His words die immediately as his lips wrap around your clit. 

“Oh fuck, baby.” One hand grabs the headboard, preventing yourself from falling forward, while the other holds on tight to your shirt on his wrists. His tongue goes down to your slit, licking past your folds and gathering your arousal. 

“Taste so fucking good, noona. I’ve missed tasting you.” The vibrations of his words against you feel more intense than usual, the hot coil in your abdomen ready to burst already. 

“Right there, baby.” You whimper when his tongue pokes past your entrance, his nose rubbing against your clit and making your head spin. 

You let go of the shirt, keeping his hands together, grabbing onto his hair instead. He quickly frees his hands from the half-assed confinement, grabbing your thighs, fingers digging into the meat of them as he keeps you close.

You rut your hips against his mouth, moaning loudly as his tongue works against you. 

“Fucking hell, I’m already about to come.” You lower yourself slightly, leaning back away from the headboard. One of your hands lands behind you on his abs to hold yourself up, the other reaching farther back to palm him through his underwear. The moan he lets out on your clit is all it takes for you to cry out, grabbing him through his underwear a little harder and squeezing his head between your thighs as you come on his tongue. 

“Fuck, hold on.” You have to push yourself off him, trying not to pant like you’re already doing after one damn orgasm. You turn around, settling above his face again, but this time leaning down to reach his cock. You give him the go-ahead to continue, and he wastes no time getting back to work, using the new position to add more focus to your clit while his nose rubs against your slit. 

You palm him through his underwear, wrapping your fingers around him, slowly jerking him through the fabric. Even through the underwear, he feels amazing to hold. Thick and heavy and all yours and only yours. You smile when you see a small wet patch forming near the top of his cock, kissing the patch before leaving open mouth kisses along the shaft. 

You try your best to focus on what you’re doing, but Vernon’s whining as his determination to get you to come twice has you failing to ignore him. You roll your hips down toward him simultaneously as you squeeze his cock, but a hand smacks your ass. You jolt forward in surprise, but his hands grab your hips and pull you back to his mouth like a man that’s not had food in weeks. 

You almost jolt forward again when two fingers are suddenly roughly fucking your pussy, his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly. 

You let out a string of expletives, burying your face against the left side of his pelvis, hand still languidly jerking him off through his underwear. Vernon’s fingers curl inside you, finding the exact spot to send you to another world again. He continues to finger you through your second orgasm, tongue lapping up any juices he could and moaning at every taste.

Vernon smiles when he feels your pulsing lessen around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and giving one final kiss to your clit before tapping your ass. 

“You okay, noona?”

Are you? You’re so fucking tired, and only after two orgasms. You feel a little delirious and still so exhausted that it takes you a moment to respond. 

“Mmhmm…” you mumble, lifting yourself off of him and crawling down his body to sit between his legs and face him. He lifts his hips up, thinking you’re going to take his underwear off, but you push his hips back down, shaking your head. 

“Not this time, baby.”

“But…” he lets out another whine when you reach out to grab his cock through the fabric again. “I’m not going to make it, noona. I need to be inside you.”

“I’m tired, Vernon. I’m sorry I keep sleeping, but you know jet lag is a bitch for me.” You squeeze him a little tighter, your thumb pressing against the underside of his tip. 

“So. I want you to come for me now. Then we can take a nap. Give me two hours at least. And then,” you sit directly over his straining erection, rubbing your soaked center over his underwear and cock, “you can wake me up, however you see fit. Whether it’s your head between my legs, your fingers inside of me, or this perfect, wonderful, thick cock tucked safely in my cunt. Okay?”

Your eyes meet his as you grind against him again. The whine he lets out makes you feel wetter than you already were. 

“Noona, please.” His voice falters when your center runs directly over his covered tip. 

“Wanna come?” You tease, grinning at his head and nodding. “My good boy wants to come? Cream his underwear for his noona?”

His hands find your hips, fingers pressing in deep enough that you know you might bruise tomorrow. But you don’t care as long as his hands are on you. 

“Answer me, baby.”

His lips part, some form of words spewing out, but completely unintelligible. You lean forward, giving him a simple kiss before gripping his cheeks with one hand and forcing him to look at you. 

“Hmm. Nothing? I guess you don’t want to come. That’s fine,” your hips lift off him, his underwear now stained with your arousal as well as his. “I can just go back to sle—!”

You squeal, voice stepping up on octave, when Vernon’s death grip on you tightens, barely letting you get more than a few inches away from him. Giggling, you connect your lips to his, letting him move your hips against his. 

“‘Mclose.” Vernon mumbles against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip when your hips press down harder. Your lips move up his cheek, leaving wet open mouth kisses and soft bites along his jawline up to his ear. 

“Come for me, baby. Make a mess. I want it. I need it.” You teasingly beg in his ear, biting down on the space underneath his ear that you know sends him off. 

And it does as he lets out a series of moans, hips bucking up to meet your rolls. You back off him when you feel the twitch of his cock, reaching out to jerk him off the rest of the way. His underwear becomes wetter as his cum seeps through the fabric. You coax him along, telling him how well he’s doing and not to stop until you feel him soften. 

You lay down next to him, exhausted out of your mind, but enjoying the ego boost that you always get after being the reason to turn your boyfriend into a whining pile of mush. 

“Two hours, okay?” You kiss his cheek once before kissing his smiling lips. God, you love his post orgasm haze. He turns into what you deem to be the real version of himself rather than the person he presents himself to be to other people. He’s your soft boyfriend with the goofy grin that just wants to cuddle and stay in bed all day with his girlfriend.

“Two hours.” He repeats, kissing you once more before getting up and grabbing a new pair of underwear on the way to the bathroom. It takes you less than three minutes to fall back asleep. 

You wake up as expected, two hours later, with your boyfriend laying on top of you. He’s softly kissing your neck and whispering your name, his semi-hard cock fully sheathed inside of you but not thrusting.

“Has it been two hours already?” You stretch underneath him, a moan escaping against your skin when you clench around him. 

“Noona. You did that on purpose.”

“I would never.” You grin, bringing his face to meet yours, kissing him once, twice, three times before whispering for him to begin.

His thrusts are slow and deep, almost pulling out completely before slowly rolling his hips back into yours, his cock hitting places you don’t think he’s hit before. 

“Vernon, baby. You feel so good.” You whimper into his neck, his lips finding your skin and leaving small bruises in random places. 

You love moments like this. Yes, you love controlling him and calling him a good boy. You love when he does everything he can to please you. You love when he has his moments of being the dominant one, fucking you senselessly and filling you up completely. But there’s just something about you both taking it slowly; no power dynamics, no teasing or provoking, just love and needing to feel one another. 

“Come inside.” You softly say, kissing underneath his ear, hands tangling in his hair. 

“With me,” his hand slips between your bodies, thumb perfectly finding your clit and rubbing in a faster pace than his hip rolls, “come with me, noona. Wanna feel it.”

You nod, moaning again and finding his lips with yours again. It doesn’t take that long for the fire to build up inside of you, and Vernon only snaps his hips a few times when he can feel you’re about to come. The pull on his hair signals to him that you’re close and all he has to do is press against your clit the right way, and you’re coming undone for him, hips lifting to meet his and two seconds later, he’s groaning against your neck, filling you up like you asked.

“I love you, y/n.” He mumbles against your skin, kissing his way back to your lips. You smile against his lips, repeating the sentiment back to him. 

“Are you feeling better now?”

“A little. I’m sorry, Vern. I hate that I’m like this every time I visit.”

“It’s okay, baby. I love you for coming out regardless.” He sneaks another kiss. “As long as you’re better for Valentine’s Day. I’ve got the whole day planned.” He grins at your shocked expression, slowly pulling himself out of you and laying on his side. 

“Sorry, wait, what?” You turn to look at him. “What did you plan?” 

“It’s a surprise. So you have tomorrow to hurry up and adjust to Seoul’s time zone.”

“Vernon, I don't want to go out for Valentine’s Day. It’s crowded and gross.”

This is where you see that little switch inside of him come alive. His big hand gently lands on your stomach, fingers gliding across your exposed skin, dancing lower and lower. His voice does the thing you hate, where it feels like it drops an octave or two, and his lower raspy voice is whispering in your ear. 

“Who said anything about leaving the house? No, babe. You’re mine the entire day. Even when food is delivered, you’ll be tied up on the bed waiting for me to answer the door.” 

The smile he gives you is so innocent and pure compared to the words he just said that you can’t help but grin. 

“That sounds like a perfect Valentine’s Day. But why am I tied up? Shouldn’t it be you?”

“We can take turns.”

“Oh, even better.”

“I figured.” He smirks, kissing your temple, “do you want me to make you dinner?”

“Absolutely not. You are a hazard in the kitchen.” 

“No, I’m not!” His lips form into a pout, and you laugh out loud, a hand patting his cheek. 

“Baby. My sweet boy. No. If you’re not literally burning oil, you’re smacking your head into the air vent. You have zero spatial awareness. Please stay out of the kitchen. I want you to stay alive.” 

He pouts again, but he knows you’re right. Both the burning of oil and hitting his head into the air vent happened within minutes of one another, and you had to kick him out of the kitchen after making sure he was okay.

“Fine. Do you want to get up and go out to eat or order in, watch a movie, and keep sleeping?”

“Ooo, that one. Stay in bed until my flight back home.”

“I like that plan too. Shower first?”

“Shower first.” You agreed, giggling when he scoops you out of bed to bring you to the bathroom.

You inevitably have sex in the shower again, Vernon being unable to keep his hands off you and pinning you against the wall, switching between fucking you soft and slow and fast and deep. You take another small nap while he’s on his laptop until the food is delivered. He put on a movie you knew he knew you had no interest in, but you cuddled up and let him geek out about the movie, telling you random facts about the characters, actors, and the plot until you fell asleep again. 

#kvanity #thekpopuniverse #kflixnet #wkcnet #kelly writes #fic: nightcap #seventeen #Vernon #vernon x reader #vernon x f reader #vernon x you #chwe hansol #hansol x reader #vernon smut #vernon fluff #hansol smut #hansol fluff #svt smut #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt vernon #svt hansol #vernon x y/n #vernon fic #hansol fic #svt fic

[f10werfae]

Blinded by Lust

Pairing: Chris Evans x Blind!Reader

Warnings: Cheating (on Chris' part), car accident

summary: Y/n feels it’s her fault her own boyfriend looks for an outlet elsewhere ‼️Major Angst‼️

(Sorry I hate writing angst, esp cheating it hurts���)

- Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

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(Y/n's P.O.V)

Chris was out with his friends tonight, leaving me to try and finish up the housework. After that car accident from a few months ago, I had lost vision in my left eye, and my left leg was still adjusting back to normal. I’m glad Chris was able to get out of the house after all the press he had been doing, things had been tense since he gotten home so i’m happy he’s enjoying himself out there.

Hearing the door slam shut, I limped over to the top of the staircase awaiting to see my boyfriend of 4 years. Only to see he wasn’t alone, nor was he in the right state of mind, neither of them were.

“O-oh” Is all I could make out of my mouth, watching as his hands dragged all over the random woman’s body, their mouths in a dirty battle.

Who could blame him though? I was half blind, couldn’t walk properly and as a result neglected his needs. Swallowing thickly I decided to just leave back to the guest room I was cleaning in, the sobs coming out once I closed door.

Hearing them stumble on the stairs into our shared bedroom I heard him complimenting her with shit like “sexy” calling her the names he used ro call me.

Within minutes I heard the headboard banging against the wall, the sounds of their echoed moans bouncing between the walls, my sobs now stifling to sniffles.

I felt numb. Unloved. Worthless. Helpless.

“God I missed this, you feel so fucking good” O heard him shout all of a sudden, before silence ensued. Minutes went by, until the woman said something,

“That’ll be 200 dollars baby” Her sultry voice said, her heels clicking out in the hallway, the whole situation felt like it had lasted seconds when it reality was about an hour or two. Absolute hell.

“U-uh alright, can we uh, keep this secret” I heard him by the door, his voice now sounding worried.

“Mhm customer confidentiality”

Seconds went by, the front door had opened and closed, Chris now heading back into the bedroom clearly still drunk as I heard things being knocked over.

*Brrr*

My phone started ringing loudly on the guest room table, sitting weakly on the floor I felt numbness overcome my whole body. Hearing hid heavy footfalls approaching the room and pushing the door open; my arms going around to hug myself for support.

“B-babe”

“You don’t get to call me that Chris” He winced, his name coming out harshly, my sadness now turning into complete anger.

“Did you hear all that?”

“Did I fucking hear all that? I fucking saw the start of it too. Seems like you were enjoyin yourself enough anyway, good for you Chris”

I snarked back, trying to stand up when he came over to try and help me up before I pushed him off.

“Don’t touch me”

“It was a mistake, I was drunk and i’m still drunk”

“Well your mistake is fucking shitty, I hope the quick fuck was worth it” Grabbing my phone from the table I attempted to leave the room, his towering stature blocking my way out and holding me by the arms.

“Don’t do this babe, I-I really didn’t mean it. I regretted it straight after I swear. I love you, only you”

“Not enough to keep your dick in your pants clearly” I whispered, my throat closing up again, stopping myself from looking up at him. “I hate that I did this to you, hit me, scream at me, do something”

“No. I’m better than that. Better than you, I don’t need revenge to feel better”

“S-so what’s your plan”

“What any conscious person would do, I’m leaving”

“Wait no, can’t we work past this or something?”

“No we’re clearly not as compatible as we thought we were Chris. This is it over. I can’t bear it. It’s not fair on you or me” Walking successfully past him, I took off the promise ring he had given me and put it into the palm of his hand, he didn’t even try to stop me leaving.

——

Taglist Tags (Form for taglist is up there ^^) : @pandaxnienke @patzammit @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone

#romance #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans oneshot

[scholastic-dragon]

Since the first time I saw him, I was enamored with Rocket ♡

Prompt- 'comparing hand sizes'

Details- Rocket (GOTG), human f. reader, fluff, and the thought of MC having "larger" hands than Rocket is just so adorbs to me. I can't help but to imagine him either complaining that it means nothing compared to intellegince/strength or just straight up getting a tad flustered that they're touching ო̤̫

(ps. the Collector request was divine..! ⁽⁽٩(๑˃ᗨ˂)۶⁾⁾ )

I love this

Hands, hands, hands

Rocket x Fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Rocket being Rocket, Rocket with a crush, spelling mistakes, fluff

Summary: Rocket needs help fixing his new invention, you're more than happy to help

Having small and nimble fingers were always a bonus when it came to Rockets inventions. He could make and arm small bombs that no one else could deactivate.

It was always a bonus.

Until today.

He had to rewire one of his aero rigs and while his hands could fit perfectly into the opening and grab the wires...he couldn't hold both wires, put them in the right spot AND weld them at the same time.

He sighed, tucking his welder under his chin and twisting the wires around his fingers.

He refused to ask for help if he didn't absolutely need it.

Holding the wires he took the welder and turned it on, moving to press it to the cords. Like before, the cords moved again and the welder almost made a hole in his palm.

He groaned, shoulders slummping as he sat back on his haunches on the Milano floor. Turning off the welder he tossed it to the floor, rubbing his temples.

He needed help.

Pushing down his pride he stood from his pile of machinery and wandered down the hall to your room.

It was late, they were calmly drifting through space, the ship silent save for a few fans and filters working.

He came to your door, swallowing his pride as his hand came up to knock on your door.

He heard shuffling on the other side and half hoped you'd tell him to piss off and leave you alone, but he knew you'd never do that.

The door opened, revealing you in your comfy clothes with your hair down...your very soft looking hair.

"Oh, hey, Rocket, what's up?" You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms with a small smile.

"I...well...I have an aero rig I'm trying to fix....and my hands....well, I can't hold the wires in the right spot to weld them together and...I need your help," He sighed, stuttering and rubbing the back of his neck, unable to meet your eyes.

"Yeah, sure, I'll try to help you,"

He led you down the hall to his "work station" which he had claimed about 3 months ago. He kneeled down at his previous spot in front of the small machine.

You copied him, sitting to his side, waiting for him to instruct you.

"Alright, see that green and blue wire? I need you to twist them and hold them to that small port right there, I'm going to take the welder and zap them into that spot," He explained carefully, it wasn't like him, normally he brashly stated what to do.

"I'll try not to burn your fingers, but if I do, there's a first aid kit on the wall behind you," He looked at you, nodding over your shoulder.

You nodded back, pulling up your loose sleeves and putting your hands forward.

"Got it,"

He picked up the welder, then glanced to you.

Carefully you put your right hand into the tight opening on the machine. You could only fit one hand, and your fingers were backwards to the wires and port.

You twisted the wires and pressed the ends against the port, your hand bending awkwardly back, but you could hold it.

Rocket leaned forward with the welder, with his right hand he had to adjust the wires slightly you were a centimeter off.

In the process, he moved his hand right into your palm. He paused, something about how your hand dwarfed his made his heart beat faster.

His entire hand fit perfectly into your palm, and your skin was so soft and warm.

"Rocket?" Your voice was a whisper as his head whipped up at you, mouth agape, eyes wide. "The wires?"

"Right, yeah yeah, sorry," He shook his head, thanking the stars he couldn't blush. He cleared his throat, leaning forward and welding the wires into the port.

The wires sparked, catching your finger tips, you flinched, hissing at the pain, but not moving your hand.

"Oh, shit sorry," He internally smacked himself, shutting off the welder and putting it by his side. Grabbing your elbow and helping you move your hand out of the machine.

Your fingertips were bright red, and Rocket stood, walking over to the wall and getting the first aid kit.

You turned to him, rolling your legs and sitting down crossed-legged on the metal floor.

He opened the kit and pulled out a burn ointment. He opened his hand and gestured for you to give him yours. You layed your hand over him, once again, your soft skin touched his small hand.

His heart skipped a beat and his throat went dry but he pushed down those feelings and started to apply the ointment.

You hiss occasionly when he got to a sensitive spot, but other than that he was so gently, like how he was with Groot.

His movements were slow and calculated, afraid to hurt you more.

"Is that better?" He whispered softly, looking up into your eyes.

"Yeah, it didn't hurt that bad, just an uncomfortable sting," You shrugged, as if it was nothing.

"Well, even if it didn't, I'm sorry," He mumbled it under his breath. Never in your few months of knowing him had Rocket ever apologized to you.

"It's alright, I'm not mad. It's nice to not have you yell at me for once for messing up a project," You spoke without thinking, looking back down at your hand, which was still laying on his.

"I don't yell that often," He countered, feeling guilty when you simply raised an unimpressed brow. "OK, maybe I do,"

He sighed, putting down the ointment and picking up se small bandaids, unwrapping them with his teeth and gently placing them over the pads of your fingers.

"When...when I ask you for help on a project and something goes wrong, I hope you don't blame yourself for it," He starts, flipping your hand over and gently placing his hand in your palm. "I'm mostly just upset with myself for having to ask for help and it's easier to blame someone else than take responsibility,"

It was strange, this easy open talk on the floor in the late hours of the night. Rocket never knew what it was about you that made him feel so different.

He'd touched the other Guardians hands before. Quill when he wanted to know how to shoot a different type of blaster. Gamora when she got an injury on her hand. Even Groot was known to take his hand from time to time in stressful moments.

Yet, the feeling of his hand in yours made his chest feel tight and his head feel warm.

It didn't help that you were always calm, and nice, always sticking up for him in front of the others, and you never judged him for his past.

You were his friend. Honest to goodness a good person and light in his life.

And you were also very pretty, with bug expressive eyes and a warm smile.

Rockets fingers gently ran over your palm, he looked up to meet your eyes. His heart raced faster noticing you were already looking at him.

Without saying anything, your fingers enclosed his hand in yours, enjoying the warmth and slight tremble from his hand.

#guardians of galaxy #guardians of the galaxy vol 2 #guardians of the galaxy imagine #guardians of the galaxy headcannons #gotg #gotg2 #guardians of the galaxy vol 2 headcannons #guardians of the galaxy vol 2 imagines #rocket raccon #rocket raccoon imagines #rocket racoon headcannons #rocket racoon x reader #x reader #intamacy prompts #prompt list #thanks for the ask!

[drabbles-mc]

Catching the Red-Eye

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: I just saw a funny post that gave me a fic idea: Friend says “Our flight is at 3am so we could go drinking and then straight to the airport.” Y/N: “Sound like a great idea!” Narrator: “It was not a great idea.” Can I request a Juice x reader where she & her gf (maybe Tara or someone?) are coming back from a girls trip and Juice(&Jax or whoever) have to deal w/ whatever state they find their girls in? 😂😂

Warnings: language, alcohol

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I started a draft for this months ago when you first sent it in and then my computer deleted it. But I got back to it tonight because apparently my muse is only awake between 11pm and 1am these days 😂 I did tweak a couple little things from the original request but the idea of writing reader an Tara as friends just made my heart way too happy. I love them so much and I hope they have many adventures together going forward. I've missed writing slice of life stuff like this. 🥰 (Also I can't lie this made me want to write more fic for Jax and Tara. It's such a small glimpse of them here but god I mourn the missed opportunities of them just having normal relationship moments man idkidk)

A/N 2: My requests are closed this is an old one that's been sitting in my inbox for literal months. Unedited and unbetad as always lmao

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @juicyortiz @meadowofsinfulthoughts @i-just-read-stuff @bport76 @withmyteeth @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @yourwinchesterbros @nessamc @garbinge @narcolini (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was the first time that you’d ever actually been drunk on a plane. For all the times you heard people talk about airport bars, and all the times that flight attendants had offered you cocktails, you had never really thought much about it. You were always on the go through the airport, always had a book or something to keep you company on the flights. You had never even been buzzed near a plane, let alone drunk and on one.

Apparently the missing ingredient had been traveling with Tara. You had no idea what you had been missing out on until you had it. All because of a trip for a hospital conference. The two of you had spent the better part of your week sitting through lectures and seminars. Sure, the information was interesting, and sure, you were both thankful for the opportunity. But after an entire week in a swanky resort it felt like the two of you had nothing to show for it.

Then to top it all off, your flight got delayed. So you and Tara were stuck at the airport with a few extra hours to kill. It wasn’t long enough to justify leaving just to have to go back through security, but it was too long to just sit there doing nothing. You had no interest in the book in your backpack, and the way that Tara was looking around the airport had you thinking she was in the same predicament.

Then she turned and looked at you, eyebrows raised and a little bit of a glint in her eyes. “You know,” she leaned on the armrest between your two chairs at the terminal, “since our flight isn’t until three now, we could just…” she shrugged casually, “hit one of the bars here and head straight to our flight afterwards.”

You chuckled, trying to gage just how serious she was. “R-really?”

She shrugged, “Why not? The plane has a designated driver. Plus,” she stood up from her seat, “I think we deserve something besides pamphlets and lecture notes for the week we’ve had.” She held her hand out for you to take. “Come on. Closest bar is just a few gates down.”

Despite knowing that it was most likely going to end in a hangover on a plane, you slapped your hand into hers and let her pull you up from your seat and down the hallway. The amount of laughter erupting from the two of you were the sure sign of an impending good time.

It was such a good time, in fact, that it was a just before midnight when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out to see who was calling at such a late hour. You half-stifled a giggle as you showed Tara the name flashing across your screen.

“I forgot to tell him the flight got delayed.”

Her eyes widened as she laughed, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “Oh. When you tell him, make sure he tells Jax.” She let out another laugh. “I forgot to tell him, too.”

You were laughing as you answered the phone. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Juice had been confused the second he dialed your number, but the drunken lilt to your voice only made him more confused. “Are you good? We're at the airport and—”

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” you asked, still giggling.

“He better not!” Tara chimed in with a laugh before ordering the two of you another round of drinks.

Juice couldn’t help but to laugh at the fact that Tara was also drunk. After getting it together, he said, “I promise I won’t get mad. What’s up?”

“Our flight got delayed.” You laughed. “Until 3AM. We aren’t,” you took a sip of the drink that Tara handed you, “we aren’t gonna be home until morning.”

Juice sighed but he wasn’t mad. All the shit that you went through because of him being in the club, all the changed and canceled plans for a myriad of reasons, you more than earned this one. Tara too.

“You’re mad,” you said.

He laughed. “I’m not mad. Just, you know, don’t get carried away and miss your flight.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “We won’t.”

“Text me later with an ETA?”

“As soon as we board the plane.”

“Alright. I love you.”

You were beaming. “I love you too.” He was halfway through saying goodbye when you remembered, “Oh! Shit. Make sure you tell Jax! Tara forgot too.”

Juice laughed. “Yea, I think he might have figured it out by now.”

You heard Jax's muffled hello on the other end of the line, laughing before finally getting around to saying one more I love you to Juice and saying goodbye.

The rest of the night into the tiny hours of the morning flew by in a bit of a blur. There was a lot of laughing, a lot of drinks. If your memory served right there were a decent number of them that you and Tara didn’t have to pay for yourselves which always seemed to make a drink taste better. It was a great time, and despite the amount of alcohol in your systems you still made it to your flight on time. You even remembered to update Juice.

The two of you managed to get your laughter somewhat under control for the sake of the other passengers on the plane. You didn’t want to keep them up with fits of giggles so you dialed it down. It didn’t take long for Tara to drift off to sleep, but you knew that wasn’t going to be happening for you until you home and in your own bed. And, with any luck, curled up with Juice.

Not sleeping had the unique upside of allowing you to nurse another drink or two on the flight. Just enough to keep you buzzed, to stop you from getting slammed with a brutal hangover. You kept yourself perfectly amused on the relatively short flight home. A few hours on a plane seemed to go by faster than in the car. Being able to watch the sun come up while still having a buzz certainly didn’t hurt.

Tara woke with a groan when you nudged her shoulder after the plane landed. She shook her head at you, not opening her eyes all the way as she felt around on the floor for her purse. “This is why I don’t drink,” she grumbled.

You laughed as you stood up, slipping your backpack on your shoulders. “No, you don’t drink because we always have to be grownups.”

“If we’re both grownups, why am I the only one who’s dying?” she asked as she reached over and snatched your sunglasses off the top of your head and put them on.

“I stayed up,” you laughed as you walked through the airport towards baggage claim, “and I stayed drunk.”

She had to laugh at that. “Smart. I’ll have to remember that next time.”

“Next time?” you said with a grin as you pulled your suitcase and then hers from the carousel. “Hell yea.”

When the two of you stepped outside, Tara immediately let out another groan at the bright morning sunlight. You couldn’t help your laughter as you continued walking, looking for either your car or Tara's. She followed along behind you, trusting you to do the real scouting on her behalf.

It wasn’t long until you saw both Jax and Juice standing on the sidewalk, leaning back against the side your car. You waved to get their attention, picking up your pace, not caring about the suitcase rolling and bouncing along behind you. The second you were close enough, you let go of the suitcase and ditched it on the sidewalk in favor of running up and hugging Juice. You hopped up, wrapping both your arms and legs around him as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

He laughed, the impact of your jump making him stumble a step but he still caught and held onto you. He hooked his arms underneath you, holding you as your legs wrapped around his waist. He hooked his chin over your shoulder, holding you tight for a moment before you let your feet hit the ground again. Pulling back, you kissed him hard on the lips, leaving the both of you breathless and somehow still laughing.

“I missed you too,” he said with a chuckle. He leaned into it as you cupped his face in your hands. “The trip was good, then?”

“It was great!” you beamed. “Missed you, though.”

“Looks like you two did just fine without us.” He paused, looking over at Tara who was leaning into Jax as he chuckled at her hungover state. “Well, one of you did just fine.”

Jax kissed the side of Tara's head. “Rough trip, babe?”

She shook her head. “The trip was great. I’m still dying, though.” She hugged him and kissed him on the lips. “Take me home so I can die in peace.”

He laughed. “Is this how I am when I’m hungover?”

“You’re worse,” all three of you replied in unison, laughing when you realized.

Jax rolled his eyes but he was laughing too as he picked up both your suitcase and Tara's to toss them into the trunk of your car. “Let’s get you party animals home.”

You immediately ran towards the front of the car. “I call shotgun!”

You were comfortably slouched in your seat with your feet on the dash before Jax and Tara finished settling themselves in the back seat. Jax had his arm draped around her shoulders, keeping her tucked snug against his side as she got ready to lightly doze for the duration of the ride home.

Juice reached over, resting his hand on your thigh as he drove. You interlocked your fingers with his, watching the scenery through the windshield and the passenger window.

Juice squeezed your hand. “How the hell are you not, you know, super fucking hungover?”

You were too busy laughing to answer the question, so Tara piped up from the back seat for you. “Hair of the dog,” she mumbled.

You laughed as you nodded. “Something like that. I just didn’t let myself sober up all the way.” You saw the way Juice peeled his eyes off the road to look at you for a moment and shrugged. “What? The flight attendant offered! Who was I to say no? Don’t worry,” you patted his hand, “when I wake up from my nap in a few hours I will be plenty hungover. By then Tara will be doing better than I’m doing now.”

Juice dropped the two of them off at Jax's. You said a lazy goodbye from the passenger seat, the exhaustion of the week and the all-nighter finally catching up to you. You were starting to close your eyes when Juice got back into the driver's seat. He looked over at you before he put the car back in drive, unable to stop smiling at the sight of you.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was looking at you. “Yea?”

He laughed quietly. “Nothing. I love you.” He leaned over the center console so he could kiss the side of your head. “I’m glad you two had fun. I’m even more glad that you’re home.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him with a smile. “You’re a sap, Juan Carlos.”

He chuckled as he backed out of their driveway. “You love me, though.”

You couldn’t deny that. “I do. But remember that you love me in a few hours when I’m cranky and hungover.”

“When you’re trying to bury yourself in all of our pillows and blankets?”

“And trap you there with me.”

“And all of your crankiness.”

You laughed, resting your hand on top of his on the console between you. “Exactly.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz x reader

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 2

Summary: From beside me, I heard what sounded like a mix between a groan and a low breath. My brain told me to keep looking ahead, to ignore him, to wait until the movie was done and I was feeling better before finding Des and asking for somewhere to crash for the night. My impulsivity got the best of me and I slowly cast my eyes in Mary's direction. His eyes were slightly larger, the flickering light of the screen reflecting off the olive hue of his irises, and his bottom lip was just barely caught between his teeth. He clearly felt my stare because his head pivoted in my direction. His gaze was nearly smoldering.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 8.5k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of oral sex, graphic depiction of manual stimulation, recreational drug use, alcohol, light gore

ao3 link

Chapter Two: Hook-up #2: The Den

Five hours. Five long, arduous hours of measuring, mixing, cooking, cooling, trimming, crumb-coating, frosting, and piping. I was almost certain that I had inhaled flour or powdered sugar at some point as my nose felt gritty and raw on the inside, but I tried my best to pay it no mind. I was on a mission.

It had been a few weeks since the house show at Thomas’ place (and the subsequent tonguelashing from Mary on the weather-torn roof), and I’d had done my best to try to write it off as the once-in-a-lifetime experience that I’d tried to originally pacify my nerves with. 

It turned out that Thomas and Des had hit it off at the party, in more ways than one. I couldn’t say that I was necessarily surprised; Des was charming, alluring, and very persuasive when she wanted to be. Ever since she’d locked eyes on Thomas at the smoky bar downtown a couple of months ago, she’d known she had to have him, and to her credit, she’d accomplished it in record time. And honestly, I was happy for my friend. It had been a while since I’d seen Des so happy and free spirited while in the arms of someone she was so blatantly enamored with. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a tad bit jealous of Thomas and the hold he’d captured on Desiree. 

Routinely, weekends had been spent just the two of us together - Doll and Des - curled up on my worn couch watching trash TV or engaging in parallel play as we sent videos back and forth that had us laughing so hard that we were covered in equal parts tears, mascara, and snot. Takeout or a drunken “do” meal (as I grew up calling them) of randomly delicious ingredients thrown together and cooked often followed, and both of us banked more memories than we could count of bonding through the sillied, domestic tasks we enjoyed together. 

Not the past few weekends, though.

I got it, believe me, I did, but after the third night in a row that I’d been blown off for either a bar or a bedroom, I couldn’t help but be a little bit worn down at my best friend’s new love interest. To avoid being the ever-dreaded third-wheel, I denied Desiree’s kind offers of accompanying them out or to Thomas’ house, which unfortunately meant many nights of movies alone and crappy blue-box mac eaten straight out of the pot.

So when Des came begging for me to use my baking talents to make Thomas a custom cake for his 30th birthday (Puss in Boots eyes and all), I didn’t even hesitate to agree to the task. I missed my friend, and although I wasn’t looking forward to slaving over the black-metal themed confectionary after finishing a particularly grueling shift at work, I was happy to do this for her. “Besides,” Des had said, “it will give you a chance to do something you enjoy and live a little.”

So, here I was: my grandmother’s old apron tied haphazardly across my curved waist, melted chocolate and white icing smeared across my forearms and the backs of my hands, and the tip of my tongue perched between my lips in concentration as I finished piping the intricate Baphomet head and pentacle on top of the three-layer cake. I glanced up at the microwave clock and felt my stomach drop deep in my guts. The party was in a little over an hour, and I still had to pack up the cake, shower, and make myself look at least semi-decent before heading over. Taking a step back, I admired my work. It wasn’t perfect, but I knew that if I kept fussing with it I’d inevitably fuck it up, so I dusted my hands off with a sigh and left the kitchen to hurry through a shower and makeup routine.

After a way-too-quick rinse and a blow-dry of my hair in record time, I futzed through my closet to try to find something acceptable to wear. It was warm out, so I opted for a dark-printed swing dress and a pair of worn, black sneakers. As always, I lived by the motto of “comfort before style,” and I was fresh out of fucks to give.

I ran my curling wand through the long tresses of burgundy hair that hung down my back and framed my face before putting on a light face of makeup. It was too warm to wear anything heavy, and despite my annoyance of my freckled cheeks, I didn’t want to spend the evening wiping flesh-toned grease from my face every time I felt a sweat droplet dripping down my jawline. Simplistic it was, then.

I fastened my weathered St. Peter’s Cross necklace to rest on my decolletage and gave myself a quick once over before hustling into the kitchen to pack up the cake. After finding a cardboard box, some saran wrap, and multiple crumpled up balls of newspaper stuffed around the cake, I was off. 

 🜏🜏🜏

“Doll, you’re here!” Desiree swung open the front door with a cheshire-like grin, beckoning me in with the wave of her hand. I smiled at my friend, feeling genuine happiness for her excitement of both the party and for us finally getting to see each other. Awkwardly, I stepped into the home and followed her through the short hallway to the garage. “I want the cake to be a surprise,” she said in a low, nearly-whispered voice, ushering me out towards the outdoor fridge. 

We set the cake on a lower shelf, still hidden by the recycled box I’d used to transport it in. She took a quick glance at the hand-drawn decoration on top and her eyes went wide before she all but pounced on me in a tight hug. 

“It’s fantastic!” she squealed, holding me firmly before pulling back to look at me properly. “Doll, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so fucking rad. He’s going to love it.” 

I flashed my own warm smile in response and chuckled. “Of course, Des. If he’s important to you, he’s important to me.”

We headed back into the house and Des led me out to the back patio, motioning towards a cooler propped against the sliding glass door as she stepped onto the eroded deck. I grabbed a random beer from the red and white Igloo and sat down in a nearby plastic chair, crossing my legs as I twisted the top off the bottle. 

“Happy Birthday, Thomas,” I said as I leaned over, clinking the tip of my bottle against his own. At this point, Des had slid into the seat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she absorbed herself into the conversation happening around us. 

“Thanks, Dahlia. Glad you could make it,” He replied as he tipped his bottle towards me in salute and took a swig, smiling politely before turning back to the chat we’d interrupted. I looked around and noticed that this party was definitely much smaller than the last one I’d attended here. There were only about ten other people, most of them acquaintances or friends from the music scene, and I recognized a few of them as Thomas’ band mates. 

Leaning back in my chair, I took a long sip of my beer and allowed the warm air of the evening to envelop me. I had to admit, this was nice. It’d been a while since I’d been around friends with no expectations or masks to wear. I could just be me. I could enjoy the banter between the boys of which Metallica album was most iconic (and why according to Johnny, it was definitely Master of Puppets, because “zero skips,” of course), or how Mark was told by a coworker that it was “gay to wash your butthole” and how he found it completely fucked that one, he didn’t wash his ass, two, his coworker was homophobic, and three, Mark finally knew where the smell in the stock room was coming from. At some point during the story, Johnny had lit a cigarette which was now dangling dangerously from his lips, ash falling onto his jeans pocket as Mark animatedly told the tale. Suddenly, he patted the ashen pocket and his eyes went wide. 

“Oh shit! I forgot to give you your birthday present!” Johnny fished a square (and slightly smushed) package from inside his pocket. It was wrapped in what looked like an old titty magazine, but I couldn’t be completely sure from my distance away from him on the patio. He leaned forward and plopped it into Thomas’ lap with a grin. “Happy 30th, dude,” he beamed with a salacious smile. “You’re officially a senior citizen.”

“30’s still young!” he defended with a glare, thumbs inching under the duct tape holding the wrapping together. 

A snort was heard from beside him, and Greg, one of the guitarists from his band, muttered something to the effect of, “Yeah, for trees,” under his breath, which earned an even harder scowl from Thomas. 

Thomas ripped the wrapping off and turned the slightly smashed box over in his hand. “Heat?” he questioned as he squinted at the brand on the box. He shook it a little and gave the parcel a quick sniff. “...is this a box of chocolates?’ His eyes looked at Johnny questioningly, but his lips were curved into a curious smile.

“Yup!” Johnny replied as he took another drag from his cigarette. “They’re kind of a present for the both of you.” He motioned to both Thomas and Des as he spoke, smoke rising from his hand.

“Are they spicy or some shit?” Thomas asked as he tried to read over the back of the box, picking at the plastic wrap covering. 

“You could say that…” Johnny grinned, ashing the cigarette and taking another drag. “I figured that since you’re so old now, you might need some help getting your dick to work.”

I had been mid drink of my half-downed bottle of beer at his comment, and I found myself snorting as I swallowed, immediately causing the fizzy liquid to seep its way into my lungs. I coughed loudly, which luckily covered my laughter. Des and I both leaned over to get a better look, and I glanced at the small print at the bottom of the box:

“The high-quality chocolate that uses natural ingredients to increase your pleasure and boost your sex performance.”

“Are these aphrodisiacs?!” Des yelled out incredulously, eyes wide as she stared at Johnny.

All of my efforts to hold back my laughter were gone as I tilted my head back and dissolved into uncontrollable giggles. I couldn’t even formulate what Des was screaming at Johnny (although I knew it was likely something hilariously angry and defensive), and I beamed at the ridiculousness of the situation. I hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks, and it felt good to let go a little. Though, I’d never admit to Des that she was right…I’d never hear the end of it, especially now.

The conversation was cut off by a pounding on the door followed by three succinct doorbell rings. Des shot up out of her seat, yelling “pizza!” as she ran toward the door, tapping my knee on the way out as if to nonverbally ask for help. I grunted and rolled my eyes, begrudgingly getting myself out of the chair as I followed her. She must have ordered a ton of food if she needed two people to carry it out back, I thought.

Des swung open the front door and her look of excitement slightly fell, but she kept her smile in greeting. “Oh, hey Mary,” I heard from my place behind her. 

Mary? I thought to myself. I felt my stomach somersault in my gut and I unknowingly bit at my bottom lip. 

I hadn’t really seen Mary since the house show a few weeks back. Sure, he and Thomas had probably hung out, and if Thomas was socializing with anyone these past few weeks, Des had to have been there, too. However, she never mentioned anything to me. Then again, it would make sense that she hadn’t — I had never let her in on my evening hanging out with Mary (only that we had talked on the patio that night), and I definitely didn’t tell her about his shitty beer slushies and the eventual redemption arc of his head between my legs. 

“...Do you need some help with that?” Des questioned as she moved aside, watching as Mary balanced at least three giant packs of beer while stepping through the threshold. The heavy boxes made the muscles in his arms appear permanently flexed, each limb framed by the cut-off sleeves of what was once a short-sleeve Morbid Angel tee. He was deceptively strong, and images of those arms curled around my legs as he dipped his face between my thighs ramparted my mind. I couldn’t help but watch as he moved swiftly through the house and out onto the patio.

“Nah, I’m good,” Mary grunted as he hurriedly beelined for the back door, pushing the crack of the door opening to the side with his foot as he slipped through with his contribution to the party. I subconsciously licked my lips and followed Des as she made her way back out to the patio with a sigh. Apparently, she’d really been looking forward to pizza. 

The patio crowd cheered as Mary appeared and Thomas got up to help him empty a couple of the boxes of beer into the cooler. I slipped into my seat quietly, almost hoping to avoid his notice, yet watched as his hands smoothed out the cans of Keystone in the ice to ensure they fit when the lid was dropped. 

He must have felt me staring, because his eyes shifted up towards me, quickly locking on mine. I felt my heart rate begin to staccato in my caged chest and I did my best to keep my face fairly stoic, though I knew it was futile. Those eyes like spring, of sage and straw, glued me into place. 

“Hey,” he said, ever nonchalant as he finished organizing the brews and secured the lid. I looked down briefly, trying to mimic his cool behavior, and then flashed him a small, polite smile. 

“Hi,” I replied quietly. 

Mary took a seat on the other side of the patio (it was the only empty seat available) and struck up a conversation with a couple of the guys and their girlfriends that were nearby. I tried my best to engage myself in the exchange happening between Thomas and Chassie (another mutual friend of ours), but my mind was swimming with snapshots of my evening with Mary. I mentally shook it off, likening my response to my all-too-often loneliness and trying to focus on celebrating Thomas’ milestone birthday.

Not long after, pizza came, and we hovered both in the kitchen and the patio as we listened to Sabbath playing over the speakers and shot the shit with one another. The more beer I drank and pizza I ate, the more I loosened up, and I found myself reconnecting with some of the old friends I used to see at various venues around town. Mary weaved in and out of the conversations, but I did my best to pay him just as much mind as anyone else. He didn’t seem phased by me, and surely, I wasn’t phased by him, either. 

I heard the door to the garage slam, and Des’ voice echoed through the kitchen landing. “Move it, out of the way, come on,” she said as she weaved through the couple blobs of congregated bodies, the cake box obstructing her face enough that she had to peer out from the side to see. I met her at the kitchen counter and helped her to unsheath the cake from the box, gingerly peeling the plastic wrap from it. 

“Oh, god damn it,” she exclaimed as she stared at the top of the cake. I felt my stomach drop with fear that I had messed something up, but it was quickly abated when she continued her sentence. “I fucking forgot candles.”

Mark, who was unknowingly standing behind us, fished through his pocket before brandishing a cigarette. He held it between his lips and lit it before plopping it dead-center into the cake, the smoking stick appearing as if it was perched in Baphomet’s mouth. I let out another chuckle and Des shrugged. 

Mark moved to help Des carry the cake, but she slapped his hand away playfully in an act of defiance and likely in worry that his drunk ass would immediately drop it on the floor. Though somewhat heavier than she expected, she slowly glided across the open kitchen and into the dining area. Chassie noticed and yelled out “Hey, cake’s lit!” and waved a few people in (Thomas amongst them) from outside to the dated dining table. 

A raucous chorus of “Happy Birthday” rang through the room as Des set the pitifully smoking cake in front of a now front-and-center Thomas. I could tell he was trying his hardest to hide his smile, but as he looked at Des with softened eyes, it was obvious how touched he was at the personalized gesture. The moment was immediately broken when one of the guys belted into his own rendition of the song, singing, “Happy Birthday to you, you’re older than poo. If you were a horse you’d be made into glue!” which earned deep laughter from the majority of the room. 

The cake was a three-layer round cake coated in thick chocolate frosting. A bright white Baphomet stared ominously from the center of a pentacle, while swirling piping lined the borders and edges. Thomas took a moment to study the cake, shaking his head in mock-annoyance at the song. As he went to blow out the “candle,” he stopped just short of the cake, eyebrow cocked, and slowly removed the smoking (and now ashen) cigarette from the middle of Baphomet’s lips. Mark took it from his fingertips and inhaled before licking the chocolate off the filter with a shrug. 

The cake was cut quickly by Des and passed out on whatever dinnerware Thomas had laying around the house. It didn’t take long for only crumbs to remain on the cake board — a badge of honor that I took with silent pride. 

After everyone enjoyed their cake, additional pizza, and sweaty cans of beer, Mark sidled into the kitchen to stealthily pour himself a shot of vodka and a chaser of soda. The bottle of soda that he’d found hidden in the fridge had been nearly empty, and as he drained it, realization lit his face. “Shit, Tommy, there’s one more present we forgot to give you!” he yelled out as he grabbed the bottle and ran out to the patio. 

Empty two-liter bottle in one hand and a bag of bud that he had fished out of his pocket in the other, he looked at the crowd on the deck with a grin. 

“Anyone up for grav hits?”

🜏🜏🜏

A small group of people crowded around the stained tub in Thomas’ spare bathroom — one sitting on the closed toilet lid clothed in a fluffy cover, and two others leaning up against the side wall. I sat on top of the builder-grade countertop, legs crossed, a shiver dancing against my skin at the feeling of the cold formica on the backs of my thighs. 

Mark sat on one side of the tub’s edge while he fashioned some tin foil to place over the top of the mouthpiece of the cut-off soda bottle. Thomas sat across from him watching intently while his hands clasped onto the bag of pungent flower. Only a handful of us had been interested in the present Mark brought for Thomas ( Des had decided to stay out on the patio with the rest of the crew). I didn’t mind — the bathroom was small and it already felt pretty cramped with the amount of willing participants. Plus, I saw this as opportune bonding time for Thomas and I.

My eyes studied Mark’s fingers absently as he pricked holes into the tin foil and began to load the bowl with a mixture of shake and bud, packing it almost fastidiously, his movements careful as to not drop it into the water-filled bathtub. After he was satisfied with his work, he proudly  handed the makeshift contraption to Thomas and extracted a BIC lighter out of his jeans. “Want to do the honors, birthday boy?” he asked as he handed him the light.

Thomas sank down to his knees and crouched over the tub, lowering the sliced bottle into the water so that only the top third was left unsubmerged. He held onto the threads of the mouthpiece as he flicked the lighter with a quick flit. The flame etched the surface of the weed, leaves and flower petals curling into charcoaled darkness as smoke began to simmer and swirl in the bottle's thick body. Thomas focused on making sure the bottom of the bottle's cut-off edge remained submerged but that there was enough room inside to collect as much smoke as possible.

When he was satisfied, he removed the flimsy silver bowl and handed it to Mark quickly before fixing his mouth over the neck, inhaling deeply as he pushed the bottle down into the water. The thick haze slurped into his lungs almost instantaneously and he all but shot up, the plastic bottle bottom dripping as his face contorted into discomfort. He let out a series of coughs before grinning wide at Mark. 

"Forgot how hard that shit hits-" he started, head shooting to the side when the door bolted open and almost hit the man standing behind it. 

"Oh fuck, sorry," I heard, and I lifted my legs from their dangling position over the bathroom vanity to hug my chest, hoping to avoid getting smacked by limb, body, or door. 

Mary slipped into the bathroom, his golden hair stringing into his eyes as he turned to fasten the door shut again. He stood awkwardly in front of the threshold as he realized there wasn't much room in the bathroom for him to stand. Thomas reached up and opened the small window above the shower to filter out some of the smoke before inching his way past the person on the closed toilet and the few against the wall. 

"I'm gonna find Des. Thanks for this, man," he reached across and clasped his hand with Mark's in gratitude, grasping into the handshake tightly before slipping past Mary and out the door. 

I sat awkwardly on the countertop, doing my best to keep my legs folded and out of the way while still ensuring my dress covered my crotch and ass. I could feel the cold metal faucet pressing into my back and my butt felt like it was about to slip into the basin of the sink. 

Over the next ten or so minutes, I watched from my uncomfortable position as a few more people in the bathroom each took their hits, most of them leaving directly afterwards to find some air in a less-cramped space. Eventually, only myself, Mary, Mark, and the guy sitting on the john (who I’d learned was named Jesse) remained. Mark gestured to me as he dumped the ash from the foil into the clear water of the tub and began to fill the bowl again. 

I hopped from the counter, smoothing the skirt of my dress as I slipped past Mary and toilet man, eyes straight ahead to avoid any contact. As I knelt in front of the tub, I felt the cool tile lick at my knees and the heels of my feet dig into my bottom. Mark handed me the bottle and lighter. 

I could feel Mary’s stare from behind me, and while I’d like to say he was decent enough to keep his eyes above the belt, I was certain he had snuck a glance at my ass as I flicked the wheel of the lighter. Shaking the perverse thoughts that bombarded my head, I pulled the aluminum from the bong and lowered my head, lips dancing across the mouthpiece as I inhaled deeply and fully while expertly submerging the bottle. 

It was as if I licked a fiery raincloud. The smoke hung heavy in the alveoli of my lungs, pricking at the blood vessels and sacs, and I closed my eyes to keep them from watering. I rose up and exhaled, my hand softly pushing the 2-liter to Mark as I turned and gently pushed past Mary to exit. My head was swimming and I was doing everything in my power not to cough. I didn’t want to make a complete ass out of myself. Unfortunately, that also meant I was holding my breath. 

I could hear the dull thud of the music playing through the speakers outdoors and unremarkable chatter punctuated the beat. I didn’t even recognize the feeling of my feet against the Pergo as I padded down the hallway and across the landing, down the carpeted steps, and right into the den, sinking onto the worn plaid couch with another weighted exhale. My head was spinning and my stomach wasn’t far behind. Maybe smoking after a handful of beers wasn’t my smartest choice. 

Eventually, I lowered my forehead to the armrest of the couch and closed my eyes, lifting my legs up to curl under me as I soaked in the cool quietude of the empty den. I sat there for what my mind registered as an eternity. The calm doused my speeding heart and helped me to keep the heavy reams of impending panic from erupting in my chest. 

I melted into the firm side of the couch, brow bone melding with the scratchy plaid material, and reached an arm out to ground myself against the side table. I'm not sure how much time passed —it could have been a few minutes or nearly a half hour— but my body was lulled into a calmer, settled state when I heard the slap of a remote against something firm followed by some quieted curses. The click of plastic buttons on the TV console tickled my ears.��

Within seconds, sound from the TV began to ring out in the quiet den, the volume loud enough to hear over the buzz outside but quiet enough as not to startle me. I felt the couch slump next to me and the scent of cigarettes, weed, leather, and musk whooshed into my nostrils from the movement. I craned my head up to look at the man next to me. I'm not sure why. I already knew it was Mary.

"Assholes found lawn darts in the shed outside and decided to set up teams. Fuck if I’m gonna get stabbed," He started, bringing a bottle of water to his lips. My eyes trailed his form. His legs were crossed at the ankles, boots perched on top of the coffee table in front of us, and at some point during the night he had put on his leather jacket. He looked over at me and his demeanor changed from one of kind indifference to one of concern. "...you good?" he asked, turning to face me.  

"Mmph," I mumbled, trying my best to sit up straighter against the pillowy back of the couch. I licked my dry lips and realized for the first time just how cottony my mouth felt. "Too high."

Mary let out a soft chuckle and the nerves that I had spent time pushing down into my belly threatened to peek through again at the warm sound of his voice. “Not surprised," he said with a shrug, eyes flickering to the movie on the screen before falling back on me, "I’ve never seen a chick take a hit like that before. You’re a pro.”

I wanted to argue with him. In a much more sober state, I would have denied his compliment and told him that getting the spins from smoking bud was not the sign of a pro, but at the moment, all that came out of me was the sentence "I am liquid garbage." I licked my dry lips again and inwardly groaned at the Sahara that was my mouth.

“It’ll pass.” Mary reached over and handed me the water bottle he had been drinking. I smiled, recalling the last time he'd shared his beer with me weeks ago out on the patio, and I took a couple of swigs. Capping the bottle, I handed it back to him, sinking a little further back into the couch as I began to watch the scene unfolding on the screen. 

"What movie is this?" I asked after a beat, bringing my legs to cross in front of me as I snuggled into the pillows resting against the arm of the sofa. 

Mary murmured his response, clearly focused on the film, and I didn't quite hear what he said. Or, if I did, I didn't recognize it. It looked like an older film (something I confirmed when I glanced across the room and saw the VHS cover thrown on the floor next to the TV console) and the quality led me to believe it was likely an indie film or B-movie. That seemed to track from what I knew about Mary. 

We sat there for a while in a comfortable silence as the movie played in front of us. The lights of the den were off, but the incandescent kitchen lights shown in from the hallway, which paired with the glow of the TV made the details of the room fairly visible. We watched as the characters on the screen sculked down a dark alleyway, not a care in the world, and from my horror trope knowledge I knew that the action was about to start. 

From my left, I heard the crinkling of a wrapper and the distinctive clunking noise of something bitten. Another wrapper crinkled and Mary brushed my arm with his own, his hand coming out in front of me. 

"Here, eat something," he said as he handed me what looked like a square of chocolate. I felt my stomach tumble a little at the thought of something sweet, and I made a gruff noise in response, shaking my head a little. 

Mary shook the chocolate slightly as if to double down. "It'll make you feel better. Settle your stomach." 

I all but rolled my eyes as I grabbed onto the candy and muttered a noise of thanks. Typically, I'd argue with him that sugar was the antithesis of a sour stomach remedy, but his sweetness and ever-present thoughtfulness won me over. I snapped the chocolate with my teeth and as it melted on my tongue, I sank a little further into the couch cushions. It was good — a little more bitter than I expected, citrus-y, and not nearly as rich as I had worried about. Damn it, I hated when he was right. 

Before I knew it, I had downed the whole square. Unbeknownst to me, Mary had watched with side-eyes and already had another square ready for me when I'd finished, which I accepted gratefully.

We remained like that, mere inches between us as we snacked on square after square of dark chocolate until barely any remained, absorbing the scenes of the movie unfolding before us. I felt warm and heavy and full in the sanctity of the cozy sunken room and the party outside lived far from the boundaries of my mind. Glancing at the table, I looked to see if I could find a wrapper or box to mentally note the brand of chocolate to buy it later, and I noticed a familiar smashed box laying open on the surface. Within seconds, the recognizable panic rose in my chest. 

"Mary," I started cautiously, staring at the box, "where did you get those?"

I saw Mary shrug out of the corner of my eye. "They were in the kitchen."

I swallowed harshly. "So...you just…took them?" I said slowly, hoping to clarify that he hadn't taken what I thought he had. After all, Mary had shown up late. He wouldn't have known what they were.

This time, Mary turned his head to look at me straight on. The look on his face was relaxed and seemingly unbothered. "The box was all damaged so I assumed someone would throw them away. And Thomas is more of a Hershey guy," he reasoned. 

At that moment, my heart fell out of my ass — partially because we had just eaten Thomas' entire birthday gift, but more so because of what we had eaten. 

My face must have been a clear tell, because the long-haired man in front of me cocked his head in confusion. "Mary, those were, uh..." I tried to choose my words carefully despite the haze in my mind, "...those were fucking chocolates."

He laughed and looked at me with eyebrows raised and eyes wide, a look of ridiculing understanding on his face. "I know they were chocolates," he said with another mocking chuckle.

I grunted in frustration. "No, they were FUCKING chocolates!" I sighed and ran my hand through my long hair, tilting my head back as I searched for the right words. "God damn it, Mary, chocolates for fucking. Sex chocolates!" I looked over at him, my grey eyes widened a little in irritation, and studied his face for his response. 

He shrugged, fucking shrugged, and leaned back a little further into the couch. "That shit is all marketing BS," he waved his hand and settled back in to watch the movie. I was certain he didn't notice me glaring daggers at him. 

Despite my frustration, I followed suit and decided to distract myself with the film. I couldn't really decipher the plot (which I mostly attributed to my intoxication), but I began to deduce that it was some sort of slasher film riddled with horror cliches and gore.   

My suspicions were quickly confirmed when the movie cut to an intimate scene between two of the side characters. As they moved against each other in the dark, clothing half-ripped off, lips trailing skin, and almost pornographic moans permeated the screen, I felt my stomach tighten. I wasn't typically the kind of person to be affected by sex scenes in movies or TV, but for whatever reason, I felt a rush of heat flood my abdomen and pull at my navel. 

Shadows moved behind the preoccupied couple on the screen and I tried my best to focus on the horror element of the plotline. The murderer is in the room and is waiting for the opportune time to strike, I told myself in prediction, willing my eyes to study any and every small detail in the movie to keep the tugging at my core from building. 

I licked my lips and let out a quiet breath, hoping to God that Mary didn't hear me. Anger started to prick at my gut. Was this a placebo effect? A side effect of weed and alcohol? Or were those chocolates the real deal? Regardless, I pulled my knees to my chest and did my best to not allow the movie to bother me (one way or another).

From beside me, I heard what sounded like a mix between a groan and a low breath. My brain told me to keep looking ahead, to ignore him, to wait until the movie was done and I was feeling better before finding Des and asking for somewhere to crash for the night. My impulsivity got the best of me and I slowly cast my eyes in Mary's direction. His eyes were slightly larger, the flickering light of the screen reflecting off the olive hue of his irises, and his bottom lip was just barely caught between his teeth. 

He clearly felt my stare because his head pivoted in my direction. His gaze was nearly smoldering. I licked my lips, the wet sounds and moans of the TV punctuating our focus on one another, and I felt the air grow thick with tension that was practically palpable. My fixed stare drifted downward to look at his bitten lip and I shuddered as I noticed the reddened teeth mark against the soft flesh.

I don't know what overcame me. Suddenly I was lurching forward, my legs bent below me as I pushed into him, hand resting on the worn fabric of the band shirt below the jacket, knees brushing the fabric of his jeans. Our faces were inches apart and I could see the stubble outlining his chin and cheeks. His hand snaked up between us and grasped the back of my neck, and before I knew it, he pulled me into him with such force that I nearly lost my balance. 

My lips crashed against his for the first time ever, and through the fog in my brain and body, I noted their firmness, how they were slightly chapped but still velvety as they moved against mine. I shifted to lift a leg over his lap and straddled him, both hands resting against him as his own free hand came to slot against the curve of my waist. The fabric of my dress floated around our conjoined laps and I tilted my head to the side to deepen our locked lips.

Mary groaned and the hand on my neck traveled down my back and over my ass before gripping onto the other side of my waist. With both hands, he held me firmly and pulled me down into his crotch. I could feel the rough jean fabric scraping against my inner thighs and seat of my panties. I let out a whimper.  

Heat soared through my groin and had I been clear-headed, I would have laughed at the aptly-named chocolates, but I was too distracted by Mary's noises and his guitar-calloused fingertips now brushing up my thighs and oh god did he smell good (all leather, spice, cigarette, and earth). I felt my dress flutter up to the crease between my legs and pelvis and his hands came to cup around my backside. I let out a wanton moan into his mouth and he pushed his tongue against my lips, parting them as he ground himself into me. 

Had we been completely alone in the house (or at least in a more secluded space), I couldn’t promise myself that I would have had any restraint against Mary completely taking me right there on the old sofa. However, a moment of worry panged at my core and I separated from him slightly, mere centimeters between us as we both breathed heavily. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” I stumbled out, lips brushing against his own as I spoke. 

Mary grunted in reply and pulled me in against him deeper. “Everyone is distracted outside," he murmured against my jawbone as he pressed slow, tantalizing kisses that flowed down to my neck. I tilted my head further to the side and fluttered my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against my own, fingertips digging into the tines of his zippered jacket. His lips ghosted a sensitive spot on the curve of my neck and I felt electricity swim across my skin. 

"I don't fuck people I don't know," I breathed out, feeling my own hips move against his now as if betraying my own words. 

He let out a noise that registered somewhere between a groan and an "mmm" before detaching from my neck. One of his hands reached up to brush some rogue strands of hair that had fallen into my eyes, tucking them behind my ear as he brought our faces close together. "I guess we'll have to get to know each other better, then," he rumbled out, voice low as his thumb pressed into my jaw and pulled our lips together again. 

The lights of the movie flickered behind us and screams from the victims of the story percussed our heavy makeout. I paid them no mind, but after the third scream and the sploshing sound of what I assumed to be blood, I could have sworn that Mary's kisses became more heated. 

His hand trailed from my jaw and down to squeeze at my breast through the thin fabric of my swing dress, which earned him a moan from me in response, before he traced his fingertips down to the skirt gathered at my waist. He dipped his fingers low between the heat of my legs, swiping them once, twice up the crotch of my panties to feel the wetness gathered there. I felt him smirk against my lips and his nimble fingers pushed the damp cotton aside to graze my pussy. I let out a whimper into his mouth and he took this as permission to go a little further, stroking along either side of my inner folds with his pointer and middle fingers. 

The muscles of my legs quivered at the sensation and I moaned a little into his mouth again, my tongue licking against his own almost lewdly as he rubbed his hand against me. He broke the kiss just barely, squeezing his fingers on either side of my clit. "Did you want me to stop?" he purred out as he languidly stroked. 

"Please," I choked out, the tenseness of weeks without physical touch bubbling up in my abdomen and throat. 

He began to remove his hand teasingly. "Please what? Stop?" he asked as he bit softly on my bottom lip. 

I tugged my lip back from his teeth and opened my eyes to look at him imploringly. "Please don't stop," I practically begged before leaning back into his touch. He slammed our mouths together again and began moving his fingers with more speed and intensity, rubbing me up and down but being careful to never directly touch my most delicate spot. His teasing had me dripping for him, and right when I felt my frustration about to run over, he dipped his hand lower and slipped inside of me smoothly. 

I let out a noise of complete pleasure against him, our lips breaking apart, and rested my forehead against his as my eyelids squeezed together. His free hand rocked me against him and he added another finger before curling them into me, pushing and stroking and prodding at my g-spot expertly. 

"Mary..." I moaned breathily, and he grunted out in response as he leaned down to lick a stripe from my collarbone to my ear. Goosebumps pebbled my skin and I ground my hips into his hand, unknowingly pushing it into his swelling cock. 

"I've been staring at you in that dress all night," he purred into my ear. The movements of his fingers began to speed up and I reached down between us to rub at my clit, but he beat me to the punch, his thumb reaching up to massage it at a teasingly slow speed. "How your tits were pushed up against your knees as you sat on the bathroom counter," he took in a sharp breath and I felt his inhale prickle the curve of my ear, "The way your ass looked bent over the bathtub, lips around that bottle. Fuck, I wanted that to be my cock."

I could feel the outline of his hardness pressing against me through his jeans, and images of his leaking cock being pressed between my lips made my gut flutter with need. I brought my fist up to my mouth and bit into it, groaning loudly and hoping that it was at least somewhat muffled. The desire pooling in the pit of my abdomen was threatening to break through, the dam nearly cracking, and I could feel each nerve of my pussy jolting with fiery synapses, just waiting to explode. 

My head tilted back and I looked down at Mary through half-lidded, lust-drunk eyes. "Mary, I'm—"

He cut off my whine, his voice gravelly as he spoke. "I want you to cum on my fingers, babydoll. Just like you came on my tongue." 

I felt the fire rage inside me and it was as if I lost complete control of my body. My hips writhed into him and my hand reached up to grab onto his shoulder for support, fingernails digging roughly into the leather of the battle jacket as I let out a noise of complete rapture. His hand on my hip darted up and quickly covered my mouth as he continued to fuck me with his fingers. 

"Shhh, you didn’t want them to hear us, remember?" His eyes pierced into mine, pupils wide and blown with desire, and he watched every minute movement of my face as I came around him. Despite his sultry reminder, I keened against his hand, his skin tasting salty against my tongue and lips with each little noise. He pulsed me through my orgasm and circled my sensitive nub with increasing gentleness as I came down in his arms.

After a moment, he slipped out of me and brought his soaked fingers to his lips before making a show of sucking my slick from them. "You taste just as good as I remember," he breathed out with a smirk. I let out a shuddering breath, closed my eyes, and rested my forehead against his once more, our hair tangling in a mess of golden brown and mahogany tresses. I felt his dick pulse beneath me. 

My mind shot back to our time together on the roof, and as I sat nearly puddled against him on his lap, I realized that I had yet to return any of his favors. With shaky knees, I pushed myself from him (earning me a brief look of concern) before I slid down his lap and onto the floor in front of him. The worry melted from his face as his eyebrows rose, and a grin stretched across his lips. 

My hands slithered down the black denim of his thighs, ghosting the skin of the ripped knees, and I grabbed his shins to push them open. Settling between them, I reached forward to push his bullet belt up and pull at the button on his pants. It popped open with minimal effort and I gripped my hands onto the meat of his thighs as I leaned my face directly over his crotch. Taking the zipper in my teeth, I wrenched it down smoothly. The heat of his groin flushed against my cheeks and even without looking, I could tell he wasn't wearing boxers.

He quickly pulled his pants down from his hips to his knees and his cock sprung out, nearly hitting me in the face. While he was no Owen Gray, it was longer and thicker than I had imagined given his height, and I knew that it would be difficult to take him completely. Grasping onto the base, I flittered my eyes up to him and peered at his face through thick lashes as I licked the tip lightly.

Mary let out his own series of aroused noises and his hands grasped at the couch cushions below him. I smirked and knelt a little closer, back curving to highlight the swell of my ass as I took the tip into my mouth and sucked sparingly before letting it go with a pop. Mary whined at the loss of my mouth and I let out a small laugh, enjoying returning some of the teasing he'd put me through, before I grabbed the base and licked from his balls to his frenulum. 

The dialogue from the TV just barely drowned out his heavy breathing and I surprised him by taking him into my mouth as deeply as I could without gagging, hand still squeezing around the base as I began to bob up and down. By now, the spinning nausea and hazy headspace was gone and I was feeling the more positive effects of the gravity hit, so I slid my other hand down to cup his balls as I took him a little more deeply into my mouth. 

One of Mary's hands came to thread through my hair, grasping the burgundy locks with a tight grip as he helped guide me up and down his shaft. I pressed the tip of my tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock and he groaned out, lips spilling out the words "Fuck, just like that” as his hips quaked beneath me. 

I continued to move my head against him, alternating licking and sucking, hollowing my cheeks and pulling lightly at his balls. I could tell he was close when his moans became louder and his arm started to tremble. Speeding up my ministrations, I looked back up into his eyes to see them closed, his head tilted against the back of the couch, and he started to jerk his hips up roughly into me. I relaxed my throat and stilted the gagging feeling the best I could, tears pricking my eyes as I let him fuck my face. 

The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and he let out a guttural noise, his other hand coming to grab onto my head as he thrust into my mouth. "Ungh, fuck, babydoll, you're gonna make me cum," he growled, and even with my recent orgasm, I felt wetness instantly pool in my already soaked underwear. 

Seconds later, his hips spasmed into my face and he came roughly into my mouth. His salty spend pooled on my tongue and I swallowed around his cock before slowly sliding off with an audible "pop". A bead of cum dribbled down my lips and I wiped it with the pad of my thumb, popping the digit in my mouth to lap at it slowly while locking eyes with Mary.

He looked at me half-lidded, completely enthralled as I nearly devoured every drop of him, and I leaned back a little while shooting him pleased smile. 

"I couldn't let you go through life without experiencing one of my blowjobs at least once," I said, nearly echoing his words from weeks prior. He instantly recognized this and laughed, one of his hands moving from my head to trace his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip. 

"I don’t know what it is about you, dollface," he whispered. My heart leapt again at the nickname he'd assigned me and I hummed as I leaned into his touch before slinking up to sit next to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear the clink of his belt as he carefully tucked himself back into his jeans, the sound of his zipper whirring briefly through the heated air. 

His arm came to snake around my waist and we sat there in a comfortable silence, film credits dancing on the screen. I heard the sliding glass door open from the kitchen and footsteps clatter against the fake laminate flooring, but I didn't move from Mary's grasp. I was too tired (and too satiated) to care. 

After a while, I felt his lips press onto my forehead and I opened my eyes again to look at him. He motioned towards the last chocolate square on the coffee table with a subtle flick of his head, a smile carved into his face, and broke the quiet. 

“...you gonna eat that?”

#mary goore #mary goore x ofc #mary goore x oc #mary goore x female character #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #my writing

[countryclubkook]

Him Or Me Pt.2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Thornton!Reader

Warnings: language, death, drugs, alcohol, toxic Rafe, spoilers for obx 2, angst, slight sexual innuendo at the end

A/N: the long awaited part 2 is finally here, it took me forever to write and i’m still not happy with it so there’s a very good chance i’ll delete this and end up redoing it but in the meantime I hope it’ll suffice. Writers block is truly the worst thing in the world, I hope I did the first part justice in this and hope you all enjoy. The timeline in this is a bit different than the one on obx for story sake!

A few weeks had passed since everything with Topper went down and to say shit had escalated was putting it lightly. Everything was much more intense and you didn’t know if you were going to make it out alive by the end of this all.

John B had killed the sheriff according to everyone in town and had a massive search team looking to bring him in. This only backfired completely when he and Sarah drove their boat straight into the storm and presumably died trying to escape by going towards the storm. That’s what you believed until you overheard Ward and Rafe talking about what Rafe did and how he was the one to kill Sheriff Peterkim, you were sick to your stomach at the thought of the same hands that held you at night being responsible for taking away someone’s life and stumbled back into your room before throwing up into the trash can.

“Baby? Fuck are you okay?!” Rafe rushed to your side to hold your hair back and watched in confusion as you smacked his hand away. The look of pure fear in your eyes and face told him that you heard the conversation. You knew the truth and you were scared of him.

“You killed her Rafe, you framed John B! What the hell is wrong with you?” you screamed at him while backing into the corner wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“Hey!” he watched you flinch and immediately regretted it “i'm sorry for yelling at you, but you gave me no choice. You didn’t ask me why I did it, you act like I'm some kind psycho killer when I'm not okay? I was protecting my dad just like I protected you when your brother was doing all that shit to hurt you” he watched you grimace at the memory before he continued, “I couldn’t let her hurt my dad and now he’s safe because of me. Sarah is gone and this is my chance to step up and make him proud. Don’t you want him to be proud of me and for us to be a happy family baby?” he cocked his head to the side and slowly walked to where you were before crouching so he was eye level with you.

“Well, of course I do Rafe but you still-“ his hand moved to squeeze the side of your face, not too rough, just enough to make you stop talking.

“I saved him, I saved us baby. If my dad died, we wouldn’t be together right now. You would be alone again, I did this for us” he sounded so sincere and you wanted to believe him so bad.

“Tell me what happened, why you felt the only choice you had was to kill her” he had you where he wanted.

“She was going to shoot him, said he killed John B’s dad with no proof other than a compass and something those fucking pogues said. He would have died over something that wasn’t even true” his eyes welled up and you couldn’t help but bring your hand to the side of his face watching him instantly melt into your touch.

“Do you believe me baby? Please tell me you do, I don’t want to lose you, I can’t lose you”

The next words spilled out of your mouth before you could even think about what you were just told, “I believe you. I’m so sorry I didn’t Rafe, I'm just scared. You’re the only person I have left”

“I know baby, i’m not going anywhere. I fucking love you” he said before pulling you into a kiss.

That conversation with Rafe happened almost a month ago now and your relationship had taken a turn for the worst. What once was a perfect relationship full of love and a man that would do anything to protect you had turned into a toxic relationship full of pain from a man that grew to be a stranger to you. The arguments became more frequent and he was becoming more and more unhinged as each day passed by, his father only adding on to it all. It was like walking on eggshells around him 24/7 and you hated it, you were alone even when Rafe was right there because talking to him only ended in screaming matches or him being too high and wanting a quick fuck to distract him from whatever the hell happened that day. Topper still wanted nothing to do with you, anytime he happened to see you at the country club he’d quickly turn away and leave. But you couldn’t blame him, he warned you and you chose Rafe over him, your own brother.

One night you decided you’d had enough, Rafe was off doing god knows what all the time and getting high more frequently and it was exhausting. You decided you were going to talk to him about it tonight and give him an ultimatum, you or the drugs and whatever the fuck he deemed more important. But the universe always seems to work against you and had other plans, the universe being Ward Cameron and his untimely death.

Now you couldn’t have known what happened, you hadn’t been at Tannyhill when it happened and it wasn’t all over the news yet so nobody had said anything. You knew they had been onto them and that Rafe had been arrested but apparently you were expected to have superpowers and know that Rafe was released from jail and Ward had blown himself up. That’s how you ended up here having yet another fight with Rafe.

“God you’re so ungrateful, you know? I mean Topper dropped you like a lost fucking puppy and I took you in, my family took you in, and you’re tired? I work my ass off to provide for this family, you included, and this is how you treat me? I just lost my father. I was just thrown in jail and my dad took the fall for me making me more of a fucking disappointment, sorry if this isn’t all about you for once” you rolled your eyes at the Topper comment, he always threw it back in your face that he is the one that took you in after what happened, that he was the one that was there for the aftermath. You knew you should have let it go, his large dilated pupils and the small remnants of white powder under his nose alerting you he was high out of his mind. But you just had enough and snapped back.

“If it wasn’t for you Rafe, Topper wouldn’t have even done that. Everything is all your fault! None of this shit with your dad would have even happened if you didn’t kill the fucking cop! God I should have listened to Top when he told me you’d just hurt me. I should have chosen him, at least then I would still have a family” you scoffed and went to walk away before his hand roughly grabbed your wrist.

“Watch how you fucking speak to me. I’m all you have left now, without me you have nobody. What did Topper call you again…. A lying whore? Maybe that’s really what you are, just remember sweetheart, you’re absolutely nothing without me” his voice low and a sinister smirk on his face when he saw tears run down your face.

“I hate you” you yanked your arm free before running into one of the spare bedrooms and locking the door, climbing into the bed before sobbing into your hands at the harsh reality.

You heard a soft knock and sat up in bed rubbing at your eyes. You must have fallen asleep at some point, the argument from a few hours prior hitting you like a ton of bricks again. Maybe if you ignored the person on the other side of the door they’d go away. A few minutes went by without another knock and you assumed your plan worked…until you heard the lock turning and the door opened to reveal the last person you wanted to see.

“Go away” you didn’t want to see him, you didn’t want to look at him, you didn’t want to be in the same room as him, nothing.

“Please,” his voice cracked before he continued “just let me talk” you hated yourself for how easily you gave in.

“talk” you mumbled out and motioned for him to sit.

“I’m so sorry baby. I’m just under so much pressure and now my dad is dead and I’m fucking lost. I never wanted to hurt you, I didn’t mean to fuck this up” he was on his knees in front of you breaking down into tears.

“Rafe…” you sighed knowing you’d forgive him and move on like you always did. It was a toxic cycle but the desperate hope that your Rafe would come back prevented you from leaving.

“I know, if you never want to speak to me again I understand. I hate myself for what I did and said, how I fucking treated you, I always fuck everything up. You were right when you said everything is my fault” what he was saying was partially true, but he also knew in his very fucked up mind that he had you in the palm of his hand. If he broke out the tears and the sob story then you’d believe him and stay. It wasn’t right and he knew that, but it never seemed to stop him from doing it anyway.

“You hurt me..A lot Rafe. This is getting exhausting and I don’t know if I can do it anymore, this isn’t healthy and you know it” you hadn’t even realized you were crying until you felt the wet drops fall on your thighs.

“I know, I just love you. I’m going to get better okay? I’ll get my shit together and get clean and take over the family business. I’ll be a better man, I’m going to make you proud baby, please just give me another chance. I love you more than anything” he moved closer to you, still on his knees, and placed his hands on both sides of your thighs.

“One more chance Rafe. I love you so much it hurts, you fuck it up or hurt me again and i’m done for good. This new you scares me and I just want my old Rafe back” you placed your hands on his face but knew you would come back if this happened again. He knew that too, but he would play the part and make you believe it would be different.

“I promise, I'll get better. I love you so much baby” he said with relief before moving to test the waters and kiss you.

You were reluctant to give in but couldn’t resist and kissed him back with passion. He made you feel important again that night, claimed every inch of you as his over and over again, but it would happen again. He’d send you love bombs after the war and you’d both pretend it never happened. This was your new life as sad as it was, you chose this. That’s all you repeated to yourself each time it happened.

But fuck were you in over your head. You wanted Topper back in your life, you wanted your room at your house, you wanted things how they were, you didn’t sign up for this shit but it was too late now. You just didn’t know what else the universe had in store for you and just how much your life was truly about to change.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks netflix #obx angst #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x thornton!reader

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

fire & ice | sunghoon

High school au, bsf->bf, all fluff, bday, bullying mentioned

You sit in your classroom, your pencil tapping rhythmically against your notebook as the teacher's words blur into the background. Just thirty more minutes of this, and then it’s lunchtime, you remind yourself. Thirty more minutes until freedom. Your stomach grumbles in anticipation, and you try not to think about the meal your mom has waiting for you at home in celebration of your birthday.

After what feels like an age, the bell finally rings, releasing you. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and make a beeline for the door, one step short of sprinting from the school building. However, just as the doors to the outside world enter your line of sight, someone steps into your path, and you collide with him. “Whoa,” he says, and you feel hands reaching around your shoulders to steady you as you bounce backward. You immediately recognize the voice of your best friend, Sunghoon. “In a bit of a hurry, I see.”

You look up at him sheepishly. “Sorry,” you say, giving him your best apologetic smile.

He chuckles at your expression. “Headed home?” he guesses.

You nod. “Mom made fried chicken.”

He makes an approving face. “Happy birthday to you.” He throws an arm around your shoulders. “Well, as the only person present with a driver’s license, I think I should drive you home,” he says.

“I know you just want the chicken,” you say, rolling your eyes and grinning. “Although, you know who else wants you to have the chicken?”

“Your mom,” Sunghoon says, nodding. “I know I’m her favorite.”

“You really are,” you say, smiling wider despite yourself. “I bet if we ever stopped being friends she’d adopt you just so she could keep feeding you.”

“I’d honestly be down. Your mom is an excellent cook,” he says, steering the two of you out the doors into the parking lot. “We’ll never stop being friends, though. So no adoption is necessary.”

He holds out his hand for a fist bump before releasing your shoulders so you can climb into the passenger side of his car. He checks that you’re buckled in before driving off. His music is far too loud -- as always -- and you roll the windows down as it blasts, singing along with him, the both of you terribly off-key. By the time you arrive home, your hair is crazy from the wind, and he looks equally ridiculous, his normally carefully styled hair sticking nearly straight up in the front.

“Wow,” you tease. “Handsome.”

He looks in the car mirror. “You know, I’m impressed that I can even make this look good,” he says, studying himself with humor in his voice. “Should I return to school like this? Make it a trend?”

“The worst thing about that is that you probably could convince people this is a good look,” you say, leaving the car. “Come on, the chicken won’t eat itself.”

Your mom is predictably thrilled to see Sunghoon. She makes you both a plate of food and then leaves you alone at the kitchen counter to eat and talk. Once he’s sure she’s out of sight, Sunghoon turns to you. “So, I have a present for you.”

You look at him, surprised. “You do? You’ve never gotten me a present before.”

And suspiciously, he looks uncharacteristically shy for a moment. “Well,” he says, seeming to choose his words very carefully, “we’ve been through a lot together this year, and I wanted to say thank you, I guess.” He blushes.

You try to keep yourself from laughing, knowing he’d be mortified. He isn’t wrong -- this year has been full of ups and downs. Just a couple months previously, there had been a girl who liked Sunghoon. This was normal -- he was handsome and charming and kind, and since you’d become friends in seventh grade math class, plenty of girls had liked him. But this girl also came with a mean streak, and she was wildly jealous of your friendship with Sunghoon. It had taken a lot of communication and commitment to keep your friendship intact through the rumors she had started about you. A few weeks ago, she had actually been suspended from school for bullying.

Sunghoon, for his part, had stuck by your side through all of it -- even when his own group of friends had believed the rumors and had shut you out. You felt awful, but he seemed unbothered. “What’s a friend group without your best friend?” he’d told you one night after a particularly traumatic moment. You, in tears, had suggested, in a dramatic confrontation under the bleachers, that maybe he was better off without being friends with you, and his response had been both comforting and heartbreaking. He’d given you a huge hug, holding you for far longer than he needed to, and when you’d pulled away, he was smiling. “I’d rather have you than have a lot of friends. So don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’d been friends for a long time, but this was the first time he had given you butterflies. It wasn’t just his loyalty to your friendship. It was also how self-assured and confident he was in the face of losing his other friends. You admired how much he didn’t need their support to feel valued or worthy. Although you hadn’t ever told him, you thought he was one of the most amazing people you’d ever met.

“Okay,” you say. “What is it? The present, I mean.”

He smiles to himself. “Well, I’m planning on showing you. Tonight at 6. Are you free?”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “Uh, yeah. I’m free.”

“Sweet,” he says. “I think you’ll need your mom to drive you. Is that okay?”

“Why can’t you drive me?” you ask, now mildly alarmed.

“If I tell you that, I might give it away,” he says. You keep expecting him to grin or laugh, but he looks serious and a little nervous.

This is so unlike him that you just find yourself staring at him. He looks away from you, playing with his water cup, and the corners of his mouth are upturned in the tiniest smile. “I am worried about you,” you finally say, and the smile gets wider.

“Good,” he says, getting up from the counter, leaning in, and giving you a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you tonight.” And with that, he shoulders his school bag and strides away.

Did he just kiss me? You think to yourself as you watch him go. A part of you wants to call him back and make him explain everything to you — whatever just happened, whatever this pounding in your heart must mean — but you sense he needs the space right now, so you don’t.

Your mother allows you to skip your fourth-period class, where you TA for one of your favorite teachers. You find yourself searching for things to do to fill the time until 6pm to distract you from how nervous you are. You have never been nervous to hang out with Sunghoon, but this feels different — weightier somehow.

Finally, it’s time. Your mom chatters happily to you while she drives you. It’s a minute before you realize you have no idea where she’s going. “Mom, where are you taking me?” you ask.

She laughs. “Sunghoon told me not to tell you.”

“He texted you?” you ask incredulously. She nods. You shake your head. “I am amazed at his preparation.”

“He’s amazing,” your mom agrees.

When she finally pulls up to the building where she’s dropping you off, you recognize it. You turn to your mom with wide eyes, and she smiles knowingly at you. “No way,” you say.

“Yes way,” she says. “Get in there.”

You are flooded with nostalgia as you step inside the ice rink for the first time in five years. This was the place where you met Sunghoon and befriended him — in ice skating lessons at age twelve. Unexpectedly, the normally busy rink is completely empty but for a lone skater on the ice. The lights have been dimmed, and the twinkle lights strung over the ice are glimmering, reflecting off the smooth, freshly buffed surface.

And there he is, wearing a jacket to protect him from the cold, looking at you with stars in his eyes — Sunghoon. He skates over to you, and you immediately notice how comfortable he seems on the ice.

“Hi,” he mouths from behind the wall. He points at the changing benches, where you can see a jacket, a beanie, and a pair of skates for you.

Your jaw drops. You go over to the bench slowly, tugging on the jacket and beanie, while Sunghoon comes out to greet you. He bends down and helps you into the skates. They are old and pliable, but clean — the perfect robin’s egg blue color, with new blades that you have a sneaking suspicion Sunghoon has recently replaced for you. He smiles at you as he laces them up. “Surprised?” he asks, his voice teasing.

You give a nervous laugh. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been more surprised in my life.”

He stands up, holding out his hand, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the ice. He keeps your hand as you do a slow lap around the rink, trying to recall the long-forgotten lessons. You’re not bad, but within minutes, he is skating backwards while holding both of your hands. “Since when did you get good at ice skating?” you ask him, a little indignantly.

“Well, my mom never pulled me out of lessons,” he explains, his eyes on your face as he skates. “And if I’m being honest, I knew you really loved it. Maybe more than I did. And even though you never said it, I could tell you really hated not to be doing it anymore. So I decided to learn to skate so I could teach you.”

You laugh. “You learned figure skating so you could teach me?” you say incredulously.

Sunghoon gives a knowing smile before letting go of your hands, pushing himself backward into a smooth glide and then twisting into a perfect triple axle. You are so shocked that you stumble on the ice, slipping and falling onto your butt with a painful thud.

When he turns to look at you, he laughs. “What happened?”

“I was so bamboozled that I fell down,” you admit, your face red, but your sense of humor intact. You look up at him as he skates over to you, crouching down to meet your eyes. The frigid water is seeping through your jeans, but you fix him with a serious gaze.

“You really learned all that for me?” you ask him softly.

He looks down at his gloved hands. “It’s the least I could do for the best friend I’ve ever had,” he says quietly, avoiding your gaze. “I would’ve done this for you years earlier, but I didn’t think I was good enough yet.”

You roll your eyes. “So when were you gonna tell me? When you got a gold medal in the Olympics?”

He finally meets your eyes, and he’s smiling. “I’ve been teaching seven-year-olds early morning skating lessons, so I figured I finally had the necessary experience to teach you, too.”

You gasp, and then slug him lightly on the arm. “That is so rude of you,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“That, and,” he continues, “this really seemed like the right year to do it. It felt significant, you know?”

You eye him ruefully. “I know what you mean.”

He extends his hand to you again, and pulls you to your feet carefully. Then, he takes up position behind you, holding your arms extended. “Try to skate in time with me,” he instructs. You glide alongside him, feeling more steady in his arms, and let out a giggle. You had forgotten how much it feels like flying.

Over the next hour or so, you practice various simple skating skills, with Sunghoon watching carefully and catching you before you fall. Afterward, you collapse into a bench in the hockey penalty box, breathing hard, but feeling happier than you have been all year. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you,” you say to Sunghoon as he joins you. “You’ve kept this secret since we became friends, almost five years ago.”

He nods, pleased. “Isn’t it awesome?”

You put a hand on his knee. “It’s incredibly awesome,” you agree. “Thank you.”

He slips his hand over yours. “Anytime,” he says quietly, then takes a deep breath in. “Do you remember our first skating lesson?”

You frown, concentrating. “Honestly, not very well,” you say. “Why?”

He looks out to the ice, pointing to the entrance corner. “I stayed there the whole time. I was terrified of falling. But you…you were bouncing off the walls. I mean literally, you were colliding with the plexiglass and other skaters and it seemed like every five seconds you were wiping out. But you were so happy to be there that you popped right back up and kept skating. And that’s something I’ve seen in you over and over again, that I really admire. You enjoy doing new things poorly, which makes you happy even when you don’t win.”

You blush. “That is so kind. Thanks.”

Sunghoon looks down at his hand on yours. He slowly interlocks your fingers, then looks you in the eye. “What if I told you,” he says slowly, deliberately, as though simultaneously terrified of how you’ll react and terrified you’ll misunderstand, “that since that first day, I feel our roles have switched?”

“Huh?” You ask.

“I’m not scared of falling anymore,” he clarifies. “Because I fell hard, and it was just as wonderful as you made it look.” He searches your face to see if you understand. “But I think you’re afraid of falling, even now. Even right now.”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what he means — and then he begins to lean in. “What if I asked you to fall with me?” he whispers. “Because I’m already falling, and I’m not scared of it unless I’m falling alone.”

A lightbulb goes on in your head. “Sunghoon,” you say, “are you trying to tell me you fell for me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously,” he says.

You run an agitated hand through your hair, although you haven’t pulled your hand away from him. “Why?”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice how smitten his eyes are when he looks at you. “Well, aside from your undeniable beauty, you are also funny, kind, understanding, mature, and occasionally quite fearless. I admired you when we were children. Now we’re almost adults, and I cannot stop thinking about you. Every day when I wake up, you’re the first person I think of.”

He finally pulls his hand away. “I know this is probably a lot,” he says. “I’ll give you some time.”

But as he stands to walk away, you grab hold of his hand, pulling him back down.

“This isn’t some joke? You actually feel this way?”

He beams. “Of course I do!”

You give his hand a squeeze. “What if I don’t need time? What if I’m still not that scared of falling?”

Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He quickly recovers, though — he grabs the collar of the jacket he gave you and pulls you in for a deep kiss.

When you finally break apart, he holds you in his arms, warming you against the cold air. “Next year, I think we should symbolically go sky-diving. Nothing is a better metaphor for falling for each other. And we’ll both be eighteen!”

You laugh. “Not a chance,” you say, leaning in to give him another kiss.

#sunghoon #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #ice prince sunghoon