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tonycries · 1 month

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Government Hooker - T.F.

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N. WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard. Set in the Brooklyn Babyverse.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall.

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges.

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt.

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room.

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”.

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer.

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before.

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.”

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.”

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him.

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes.

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive.

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie.

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder.

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C��mon, didn’t I kill it out there?”

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front.

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes.

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine.

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.”

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm.

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate.

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air.

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.”

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant.

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room.

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up.

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances.

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant.

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room.

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit.

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.”

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties.

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed.

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth.

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it.

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall.

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core.

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally.

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth..

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy.

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you.

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack!

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out-

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek.

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.”

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard.

And then you’re cumming.

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face.

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak.

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out.

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken.

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same.

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack.

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything.

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him.

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background.

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.”

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more.

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more.

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly.

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head.

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly.

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening.

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him.

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut”

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.” breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air.

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back.

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him.

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his.

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow.

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate.

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.”

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat.

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out.

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him.

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me?

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer.

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack!

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’ like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now.

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by.

Smack!

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji.

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric.

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking.

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.”

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper.

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete.

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him, you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?”

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air.

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table.

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears.

Genuine danger.

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction.

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time.

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress. But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up.

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on.

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for?

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together.

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges.

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’”

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs.

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent.

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke.

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car.

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision.

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There.

The door swings open.

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun.

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable.

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement.

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.”

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now.

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you.

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.”

You’re being pulled away before you know it.

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away.

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out.

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs.

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground.

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over.

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red.

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious.

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit.

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji.

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,” you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod.

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight.

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony.

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-”

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing.

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.”

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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kombuuuu · 10 months

Note

Can I request Miles 42 bullies you at school and is always bothering you but he gets mad and tries to fight someone else who is bullying you because he’s the only one who can be mean to you😩😩‼️

Deflecting.

Earth42!Miles x Fem!Reader

“I would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.”

This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:

PART TWO !!

such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)

You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle you’d made for yourself consisting of just you.

And yet, still.

Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.

You weren’t anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?

You’re entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of “Got transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!” girl, you’d just wanted to be left to yourself.

But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.

Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.

“The cute new girl?”

“Yeah, the one that—,” The first boy glanced at Miles. “,—tripped on.”

“Oooh, shit—, She’s fucked.” The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.

You sighed.

—

The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.

The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.

Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man who’d given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.

Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face —, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.

He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.

“Back off—,” You’re voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, “You keep talkin’ to me like that, and we gon’ have a problem.”

“You keep creeping up on me like a fuckin’—,”

“Like a what?” Miles’s bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.

You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.

“Don’t get shy on me now.”

A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.

He was antagonising you.

You tried not to instigate him. If you didn’t encourage it, maybe he’d go away.

“Never mind. Whatever, Why—,”

“Miles, my man.” A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. “Fuck you doin’ with this thing?”

“What d’you want.” Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.

“Fuck, nevermind man,” The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up, James.”

You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.

Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before you’d finally fight back. Through the months you’d been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.

On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didn’t, he’d take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.

He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, he’d basically memorised the pattern.

10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.

Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.

And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.

Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.

Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. “Omf— Hey! What the fuck, dude.”

“Let’s go.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.

“Miles, what was that shit about?”

“None of your fucking business, homeboy.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of James’s voice.

You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You might’ve lost your mind.

—

Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadn’t stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.

Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasn’t your face.

A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.

“Get up, [Name].”

James.

“Yeah, I’m—“ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.

“Shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. “Ever since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckin’ dog to me.” He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.

You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a fucking freak—.” His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.

“Please let go.”

“I’ll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfucker—,” “Woah.” “,—He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass for ditching me.” Seems like attachment issues. “And you too, cunt. I’ll end your fucking life.”

He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.

A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.

“You’re lucky you’re a looker, call it pretty privilege.”

“..”

“Next time I’ll fucking kill you.”

You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as James’s group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.

—

The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.

You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasn’t lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.

You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.

Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a “locked” sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. You’d already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.

You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.

You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.

“Thank you!” You shouted as you ran.

“You’re welcome?— Oh..”

“Kid, Get back here!”

The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.

“I’m going to get fired.”

“No, Marlene. I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks, John.”

“Why were they running, anyway?”

“Dunno, maybe AP exam.”

—

Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.

One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.

The guys at his table were all laughing at some—, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. It’s not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.

But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly — his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.

“She’s hot though—,”

“Fuckin’ cares ‘f she is? Woulda beat her ass.”

“[Name]?”

“Yeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckin’ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we don’t talk.”

“So?”

“So—!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, she’s all fuckin’ over him cause I’m gone.”

Right, Imogen was her name.

“You want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?”

James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.

He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed James’s sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.

James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.

No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times he’s shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tell—, whatever fight he’d had.

He’d won.

—

To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasn’t true. With the stuff he’d heard James and his dogs speil, he’d rather you not be alone.

He was—, worried.

But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldn’t refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.

—

The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother you—. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.

So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature you’d be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.

You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.

“Be—,” You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. “,—Fuckin’ bitch, be quiet.”

Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.

You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.

“Get in.”

“Fuckin—, Open it wider, dipshit.”

“Fuck off.”

James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.

You fell to your knees, a sense of déjà vu kicking in as you braced yourself with your hands.

Your chest heaved, James slamming the door shut.

“Keith, close those blinds.”

“Fuck are you gon’ do?”

“Beat the fuck outta her.”

—

Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. He’d arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didn’t mind.

He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.

So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where you’d be.

—

A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.

“Dude your grip is shit.”

“Nod off.”

Keith muttered something about “Fucking brit..” from his seat on the prior teachers desk.

You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.

There’s some poetry in that, or something.

Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.

You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in James’ pocket, and the wince on Keith’s face before another fist connected to your temple.

—

You weren’t there.

You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadn’t shown up for the period.

And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.

Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.

He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.

The walls were thin enough.

—

“Don’t you think this is a little too far?”

“Shut the fuck up, Keith.”

“Fuck you gonna do if she snitches—?”

He gripped James’s wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.

“—You gon’ ruin your life for this shit, man?”

“She’s been playing my fuckin’ nerves—, yeah.”

Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldn’t right yourself.

The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.

James had taken to ditching the knife.

“Fuckin—, Whatever man.”

It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.

“Drop ‘er.”

Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.

He walked back to his seat.

Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.

Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.

“You know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fucking do this?”

He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.

He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.

“Your family ruined my fucking life.” Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.

“Taking my dad, then my fucking girl too?”

What is this guy on about.

“Your fucking daddy couldn’t just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.”

A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.

A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.

James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. It’s framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.

His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.

“I didn’t do shit—,”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking ruined me.”

He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldn’t hear amongst the ringing in your ears.

You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.

A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.

Miles Morales.

“I’d get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.”

Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.

“Fuck off, Miles.”

“No.” His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.

“What, you gonna fight us?”

James’s voice was shaking. He’d never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.

“Don’t think I can, asshole?”

“It’s three against one.”

“Realmente piensas—, sabes que, no importa.”

Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.

He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldn’t budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.

The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.

James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but still—, he was evidently a contributor.

“Don’t move.”

“Wha— Why? I have to get home.”

Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.

“You gonna’ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.”

He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.

You panicked a little— “Wha—, No. Miles, put me down.”

“No.”

“Hh— Whatdyu’ mean ‘No’!?”

You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.

“I said, I’m taking you home.”

—

You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.

He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.

You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.

He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you would’ve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.

“Keep this here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Watch the attitude.”

You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.

He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When he’d pulled it out earlier, you’d questioned it.

“You get injured women on your room often, Miles?”

“Nah, Just you. Usually they can take care of ‘emselves.”

You’d giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused he’d decided not to take offence at your jab.

His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. “Chill, ma. Just gon’ put this on your cuts. Needa’ touch your face for that.”

You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah—, yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.

His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.

When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldn’t look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.

“Miles?”

The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.

“Yeah—.”

“Is my lip okay? ‘M I gonna need stitches?”

You poured up at him and he shook his head. “No.”

“Mmh— Okay.”

You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.

“Okay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No stress, Chiquita.”

He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.

He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.

“Miles.”

“Yeah, Mami?”

You paused at the name, he’d been using those a lot lately.

“How’d you know to find me?”

He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.

“Gut feeling.”

—

DAMN BABY THIS ONE GOT WILD

tags :3 @gemma42 , @denuparxoume

my gorgeous translator @kissmxcheek !!

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #Miles 42 #earth42!miles x reader #earth 42 #earth42!miles

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laaailuh · 9 months

Text

"He got a whole fan club."🕸️🕷️

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Pairing: e!42 morales x black!reader

Warnings: light swearing

Summary: You attended Miles's basketball game and caught sight of some girls cheering for him to an extensive amount.

a/n: had to repost this due to some problems with the text

you coming to my game?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Im already here

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

I thought you had a lash appointment?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

I can always get them done another time

ㅤplus I wanna see you play baby

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

you get to watch me dunk on these broke ass niggas then💯💪🏿

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ok pal!

Miles💕 disliked your message

“Number 16 is so good, like he really going all out f’me” Armani said, biting the tip of her index finger.

You scrunched your face, “Bitch you’re so delusional, he don't even know you.”

“Then explain why he always lookin’ back at me when he makes a shot?”

“You know the scoreboard is above us right? he just looking at the points girl.”

She kissed her teeth, “Just cause you got a nigga, don't mean you can ruin my fantasy bruh.”

Miles then made a three-pointer which caused everybody in the stands, including you, to get on their feet and cheer loudly. The score was now 65-50 with Brooklyn Visions Academy leading the game at fifteen points.

“Ask Miles to put me on 16, help a sista out.”

“Why don't you just get his insta after the game?”

Armani widened her eyes at your response, “Are you crazy? I aint that bold to be going up to him like that.”

In the last couple of seconds of the third quarter, one of his teammate's shots bounced off the rim which resulted in Miles acting quickly and getting the rebound instead. Another loud and favorable reaction from the crowd erupted in the gym.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“GO MILES!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“NUMBER 42 IS THE BEST PLAYA OUT THERE!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“42 HAS MY HEART!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“THATS MY MAN!”

You heard a couple of female voices yelling from behind you and decided to look back at the commotion. There was one girl holding up a sign that said “IN MILES WE TRUST” and others just screaming out his name.

You knew he was a well-known person in the school but didn't realize how much of the girls liked him.

“Damn, he got a whole fan club up in here.” Armani said as she laughed.

You turned back around to face the game, “The fuck, where these hoes even come from?”

“You gonna say something to them?”

“Nah.”

You weren't as fazed or threatened because you knew that Miles’s was yours. They weren't the ones that got to wear matching pj’s or watch poetic justice with him constantly. You got to share those moments with him, so what was there to be jealous of?

After their winning game of 103-92, Miles came up to you when everyone was leaving the stands.

“Te gusta el show que te hago mami?” (You like the show I put on for you mami?)

“It was ight.” You responded, obviously joking.

He smirked and then tried to kiss you.

You pulled away “Nigga you’re dripping with sweat right now.”

“Shit, my bad.”

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chxrryhansen · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans Series Rec List

thought i’d make a list of all the best cevans (characters) series i have read!! i have lots more to add and will continue to update this list🫶🏻 i will also create a one shot fic rec list in the near future💖💘💞

Preying On You Tonight - @evansbby

“Steve is the cocky, brash and domineering alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every day. You’re the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. You’re convinced Steve hates you, but what happens when he finds out you have a boyfriend? (a/b/o dynamics)”

Wicked Games - @evansbby

Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he’s telling the truth when he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

What A World - @onsunnyside

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that. [tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader, nomad!steve, size difference]

Just Because I Won’t Die For You, Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Kill For You - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd Hansen is just another job for you. Your last job. However, when he decides that he wants to take you for a ride and have a good time, well...how’s a girl supposed to say no?

Closer To Heaven And Closer To You - @georgiapeach30513

When your boyfriend, Ransom wants to take a trip back home to the ranch to meet your family, you are unsure. Knowing that a rodeo is in town could only mean your ex, Frank Adler, was most likely riding for eight seconds, still trying to beat his best friend, Steve Rogers. All you wanted was a nice time, not old memories bothering your brain.

Just Like The Caged Bird - @georgiapeach30513

You are a widow who moves back to her husband's hometown after selling your in Georgia home. Moving in above your brother in law's garage. Sharing the space with his friend Bucky Barnes, but your other brother-in-law Andy causes problems, along with your overprotective brothers.

Pretty Petals - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems. (multi-character)

His Koala Bear - @kinanabinks

you and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it's getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it.

Belong Here - @angrythingstarlight

Steve has been looking for his perfect girl and suddenly there you are stuck in this dingy restaurant. You don't belong here, you belong with him.

Finding Home - @navybrat817

Steve finds a home with you. (lumberjack Au)

Their Doll - @kaiparker-avengerssmut

y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

No Better Than Beast’s - @lokislastlove

You’re an animal rights activist who sets out to put an end to animal testing… but it’s a risky mission. (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Doppelgänger - @boxofbonesfic

Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale + Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Million Dollar Man - @chrisevansgoodgirl

your relationship with ransom and his insane family.

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart - @spacesnail3000

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Let It Snow - @spacesnail3000

She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Sweet Renegade - @cevansbrat0007

A new arrival in town leads to an unexpected complication in the form of a sexy as sin Bounty Hunter named Ari Levinson.

Evergreen, Evermore - @babyjakes

loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

A Huckleberry Is Nothing Without His Hummingbird - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd and Y/N have been amicably(ish) divorced for four years. However, when earth shattering trauma come their way, will they lean into what they truly want, or will the flames from past traumas still burn too bright?

Civil war- Brooklyn - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ten years ago the Readers world was turned upside down when her father was killed by Hydras Brock Rumlow. She believes the loves of her life Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes were also killed while trying to avenge her fathers death. Reader is now working for the FBI on a task force that is meant to take down Hydra. She volunteers to go undercover to take down Hydra. In doing so she not only puts herself in the cross hairs with Rumlow but she gets to meet the mystery men causing Hydra issues. Who are the Captain and Winter Soldier? What lengths will you go through to uncover the truth and seek revenge?

The Boston Brute - @time-for-a-lullaby

When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Planet Evans Universe - @astranva

In which Chris was a nervous mess when he met his A+ list celebrity crush, highest-paid, and the most iconic actress, you, at Vanity Fair’s 2014 after party. (Following the life of overprotective!dad!Chris x wife!actress!reader!)

Don’t Speak - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Dark!Andy Barber)

Cat and Mouse - @queen-of-the-avengers

You’re called the Vixen because you were HYDRA’s favorite creation. You’re very hard to catch, and once you are, it’s even harder to keep you.

Let’s Ride - @starryevermore

You’re a single mom and have just moved into a new town. You have no interest in looking for love, but the funny thing about love is, it waits for no one. (Biker!Ari Levinson)

Out Of The Darkness - @sunshinexsin

Sienna Jons has lived in Boston for three years now after graduating and is running her own salon in the city. With a small group of friends sticking by her side, she's content with her life. Enter Chris Evans, a known and feared mob boss in Boston’s underground crime world. Coming out of a long relationship ended in a bitter divorce, Chris isn’t looking for anything serious until Sienna crosses his path. Trying to win her over proves difficult for the man who seemingly has it all and Sienna is not willing to be with someone who causes such destruction in his own hometown. Sienna soon finds herself entangled in the crazy, violent world of the mob and struggles to find a way to either live with the hardened man Chris has always been or get away from him before her own life spirals out of control.

Murder He Wrote - @wiypt-writes

You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale)

Poison Paradise - @the-iceni-bitch

Robert Pronge was sure he could settle for a fake domestic life as long as he could go on killing. Little did he know that you could give him everything he needed.

A Bun In The Oven - @witchywithwhiskey

the leaves are changing—green fading into golden yellow, burnt orange and radiant red—and the days are getting shorter and colder as autumn settles in. it's the perfect time of year for baked goods, fall foliage, book stores, and to curl up next to (and get under) our favorite man with a plan, steve rogers

Wilford’s Demands - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Wilford places you in Curtis’ care so he can impregnate you.

In The Balance - @goodgirlofglory

One unsuspecting evening, the stranger Steve Rogers appears bloodied and in need of aid at your doorstep. You immediately catch his eye, and he forces himself upon you within the hour. Several months of repeated visits from him results in your pregnancy, and the night you find out, Steve intereceps you on your way to an abortion clinic and kidnaps you to his mansion. Will you carry the child to term? Will you buckle under the pressure of capitivity? Will you escape the grasp Steve has on you, or will you submit to it and your own, conflicted desires?

Drowning Siren - @rogerswifesblog

The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared. It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell. But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds. Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.

Vampire Kings Religion - @marvelcriminalhoe

In a world where fantasy beings roam every corner, the humans are on the bottom. Looked at as weak and disgraceful. The vampires are the opposite. They rule the land, and all of the creatures that take part of it. the current ruler, King Steven, has ruled for more than 150 years, alone. After many nights, and long talks with his most trusted hands, he comes to the long awaited decision that he will finally, take a wife. All female creatures, are to be evaluated, so he can find his perfect match. Of course, no one expects for him to choose a human. Especially not one from the church. Especially not the daughter, of the leader, of the church. The same church that detests the mythical creatures, wishing for nothing more than for them to perish in fire. How could this union possibly end well?

Ride And Prejudice - @pagesoflauren

A take on Pride & Prejudice, certain circumstances in your life have led you to take refuge and work in a farm village, particularly on the ranch owned by Steve Rogers. He doesn’t take kindly to you, having bad perceptions about city folk. Your only reaction to that is the one you deem acceptable: get annoyed at every little thing he does whilst doing your best to annoy him and still keep your job.

Love On The Brain - @howardpotts

You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and voilence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer? (MobBoss!Steve Rogers)

Flamingo King - @onsunnyside

The sun is brutal this summer, especially in Flamingo Trailer Park, the land of big hearts and cheap tricks, you’ve been here for years unlike your “new” neighbour, Ari. He’s older, bigger, and intimidating, the local rockstar, and you, well, aren’t you just the sweetest girl in the whole damn city?

Make It A December To Remember - @imyourbratzdoll

AGE AND SIZE DIFFERENCE IS ADDED TO ALL! SANTA AND THE GRINCH ARE LARGER THAN THE READER! THE ELVES ARE THE SIZE OF HER PALM! (a chris evans xmas universe)

This Love Is Bad - @wildestdreamsblog

You were just trying to escape your past, and Ari was trying to chase his future.

Nowhere To Run - @sagechanoafterdark

On the last day that Steve spent in your small town before heading off to basic training for the army, he made sure it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. Years later when he appears in your town he seems like a changed man in more ways than one, but you’re ready to show him that you’ve never forgotten that day. (Dark!Steve Rogers+ Bucky Barnes)

Nice To Be Kneaded - @rogersideup

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Forever And Ever More - @syntheticavenger

Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha who has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not.

Hackers Heart - @bakugousaysdie

steve rogers has always been america’s golden boy, leading earth’s mightiest heroes and serving his country. you have always been bad with boundaries, a little too curious, and an absolute disruption. you are an absolute menace,so it’s only right you fell in love with the most adored man in the country.

Arranged - @time-for-a-lullaby

Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

#chxrrys fic recs #chxrrys masterlist #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #andy barber #ari levinson #chris evans fic recs #steve rogers fic recs

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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

Text

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm.

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please.

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest.

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip.

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man.

“Did she?”

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…”

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced.

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually!

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?”

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck.

“She’s adorable,” you say softly.

“She’s weird as shit.”

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs.

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.”

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown.

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?”

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids.

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.”

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals.

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you.

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.”

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised.

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence.

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are.

“You’re the one who–”

“HEY! NO HITTING!”

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology.

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager.

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around.

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon.

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.”

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye.

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist.

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?”

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.”

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #gang shit #100 drabble challenge

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art · 6 months

Text

Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #deb jj lee #jdebbiel

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boneblushed · 4 months

Text

Labyrinth

Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again

synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.

tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓

wc ~11k

“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”

She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.

Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.

“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”

“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”

A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”

You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!

Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.

“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”

Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”

You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”

A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”

You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”

“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”

She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”

As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.

“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”

The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.

You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.

Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.

“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.

You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.

“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.

In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.

Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.

In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.

The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.

The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.

You were dead wrong.

“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”

“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”

“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”

“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”

The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.

“Oh.”

Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”

Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”

“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”

“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”

He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.

Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.

It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.

It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.

You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.

“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.

Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.

Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”

“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.

“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.

“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”

“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”

“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”

Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”

Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”

You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.

“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.

“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”

Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.

“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”

“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”

Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”

“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”

“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”

How times change.

Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.

“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.

Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.

You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.

He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.

He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.

If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…

“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.

When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.

Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”

“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”

…that fucking hug.

After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.

It shifted bile into your throat.

And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.

What were you meant to say?

But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.

It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.

And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.

All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.

It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.

You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.

He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.

Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.

“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.

“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”

Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”

You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”

Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”

Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”

“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.

“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.

“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”

Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”

Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”

Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”

To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.

The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.

At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.

Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.

He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.

Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.

He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.

Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.

It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.

That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.

Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.

You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.

God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.

He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.

Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?

Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.

“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”

Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”

You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”

“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”

“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”

“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”

You nod. “She told me.”

Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”

“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”

Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”

You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”

A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”

“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”

Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”

“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”

“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”

Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.

—

“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.

When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.

That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.

“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”

Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”

“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”

“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”

“Well…”

You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.

You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.

Fucking sadist.

“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”

His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.

“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”

Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”

You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”

Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”

When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.

He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”

Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”

“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”

He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.

He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.

Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”

He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.

“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.

Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”

“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”

You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”

You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”

He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”

Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”

“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”

The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”

Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”

“Which I have.”

The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”

You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”

—

You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.

You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.

Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.

If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.

When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.

The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.

“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.

“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”

You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”

Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”

“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”

There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.

“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”

When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?

“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”

You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.

“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.

He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”

What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.

Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.

Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.

And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.

The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.

“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”

“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”

“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”

You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.

You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”

“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”

“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”

It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”

Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.

Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.

“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”

Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”

“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”

Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”

“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.

Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”

You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”

“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”

You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”

Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”

“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”

It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”

You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”

“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”

Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”

When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.

The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.

“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”

“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”

Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”

Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”

“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”

“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.

It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.

The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.

—

It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.

Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.

It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.

Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.

“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”

Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”

It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”

“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.

He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.

You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”

Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”

“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”

Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”

You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”

Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”

Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”

Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.

“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”

You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”

“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”

You frown. “Different how?”

“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”

“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”

“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?

“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”

“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”

“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”

“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”

“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”

A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.

Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”

You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.

“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”

Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”

“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”

“I do.”

Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”

“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”

Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”

You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.

Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.

And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.

Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.

Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.

“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”

He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”

“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”

“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”

“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.

“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”

“We were eight, Cameron.”

“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”

He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.

“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”

Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”

“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.

Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”

He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”

“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”

Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”

“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.

You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.

You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”

“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”

“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”

“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.

I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”

Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”

You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”

“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”

Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”

You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.

After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”

You balk. “Hm?”

“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.

It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Elle.”

Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.

“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”

It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”

“A rebound,” you echo.

“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”

You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”

“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”

For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”

Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”

You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”

“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”

You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”

Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.

A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.

And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.

Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?

Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.

You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You smile. “Shocker.”

He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”

You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”

“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”

A hush falls. “True.”

“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”

You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”

It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.

Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.

“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.

His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”

“I think I am,” you murmur.

Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”

—

I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot

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charmedbystars · 9 months

Note

can u do a fanfic for e-42 miles based on Super Shy by Newjeans 🙏🏽 the song is like REALLYY CUTE AND I CANT STOP LISTENING TO IT 😣😣

e-42 miles x shy reader

summary: y/n's mind is constantly processing on how to not be awkward around miles.

content: no warnings!

a/n: both of these asks were similar so i just decided to make it into one! these requests r so sweet. thank u anon🥹🥹. also I AGREE SUPER SHY BY NEW JEANS IS SO ADDICTIVE AND THE CHOREO IS SO CUTE!!

sitting with your friends at lunch, you peeked over your shoulder to take a look at the cute boy standing with his friends. nobody knew how badly the girl wanted to make a move and claim him as hers, but there was no way of that happening.

you were fairly new to brooklyn and visions academy. you’ve been there for a couple months and settled in fine. on your first day of school, some girl approached you and invited you to sit with her and her friends at lunch. you weren’t the most outgoing person, so you were glad that someone reached out before you had to.

“so y/n, do you think anyone is cute at this school?” one of your friends, layla, asked you.

that snapped you from your thoughts, turning your head to look at your friends staring at you expectantly. you opened your mouth to say something before closing it again. you were way too scared for it to get out, not that you didn’t trust your friends, you just didn’t want anyone to overhear or constantly be teased by it. shaking your head ‘no’ your friends just went back to the conversation they were having.

you sighed, looking over your shoulder once more before going back to eating your lunch. the rest of lunch zoomed by and you went to your next class. you had biology with miles, being one of the two classes you had with him. you sat three rows behind him, most classes staring at the back of his head. he’s never turned around or noticed, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know you exist.

sitting in class, you just listened to the teacher explain the direction for a project she was assigning. it was a partner project that she would be assigning. hearing her call out names, your head snapped when you heard your name being followed by miles’ name. you couldn’t believe it. this was gonna be so bad because he made you nervous, you just imagine the whole thing being awkward. you starting shuffling the stuff on your desk, making space for miles who was walking over. he pulls up a chair and slides it across from you, the desk being in between you guys. you didn’t want to make eye-contact so you just played with your hands and bit your lips. miles raised a brow at your behavior thinking it was cute, while your thoughts were going crazy thinking you bombed your only opportunity.

“i’m miles morales, you’re y/n right?” he asked trying to break the silence. you nodded in response and he gave you a grin before continuing, “so for the project, i was thinking we do the botany and ecology unit since the molecular biology unit is really long and i don’t really wanna do the genetics part.”

you blessed miles in your mind, thanking him for starting the conversation easily. “uh, yeah i would be fine with that,” you responded. giving you a glanced, he responded “okay, cool” before turning to write in his notebook.

“i’m not doing anything after school so we could meet in the library, can’t go to my dorm since my roommate is a pretty loud gamer,” he said. you simply nodded. the bell rang signifying that class was over.

the school day passed and all you could think of is how you were gonna talk to miles after school without sounding stupid. now, you were naturally shy, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have conversations or lots of friends. it was only miles who made you really nervous and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him or stumble over your friends.

walking over to the library, you had two paper cups in hand containing hot chocolate. you had wanted one and decided to get one for miles too (also maybe trying to win yourself some brownie points to make him like you a little bit). walking into the library, you look over, already seeing miles at a table with books spread out around him. walking up and stopping in front of him, you gave him a smile.

“i stopped by a cafe before coming here… i hope you like hot chocolate,” you said, trying to sound as calm as possible. miles looking up at you, gave you a grateful smile before grabbing the cup out of your hands.

“thanks, make yourself at home since we gotta work on this shih.”

you followed by sitting down and started taking your books and notebooks out. after being spread out, miles gave you a piece of scratch paper with a draft of what he kinda wants to do for the project. reading over it, you deemed everything good and nodded at him. you both discussed where to begin and he shared a powerpoint with you.

an hour passed and you start to feel more confident in your abilities to talk to miles. discussing work and occasional small talk has slightly taken away your nervousness of talking to the pretty boy.

“i feel like we should put more detail and description on the photosynthesis pa-” you began.

“can you say that again?”

“that we should put more detail on this part?”

“no, say photosynthesis.”

“photosynthesis?”

“the way you say that is cute, ma,” he grinned.

your head literally malfunctioned at that moment. there was no way the boy that you have been pining over for the past month just called you cute. you simply nodded, not knowing how to respond when miles kept on pushing.

“you know, i catch you staring at me a lot,” he smugly said, resting his chin on his hand.

“i don’t know- i mean, sorry?”

“nah, i think it’s cute. i think your cute in general.”

you felt your face flush and looked to the side, scratching your neck. “thanks miles,” you tried to sound appreciative, but accepting compliments was so hard and weird for you. you didn’t want to come off as stuck up, but also didn’t want to come off as ungrateful either. thankfully, your shyness didn’t back miles off.

“you wanna go out with me sometime? we could go to that cafe you went to earlier. whatever is comfortable for you.”

miles saying that immediately brought you out of your shell. “wait, really?” you asked with a shocked look on your face. miles leaned back in his seat, nodding, “of course, hermosa.” you nodded fast, a big smile on your face. who was going to say no to a date with miles morales?

you both forgot existence of the project in that moment and kept on talking.

extra!

the next day at lunch, you were sitting with your friends talking. miles walked by your table and you gave him a small wave, he waved back following a grin before continuing to catch up with his friends. your friends looked at you in shock.

“uhm mrs. super shy? wanna tell us what that was about?” your friend asked.

“give us all the deets. you just got the school’s pretty boy attention.” your other friend asked. you sighed knowing that even after you explain, the questions and hype from your friends will be never ending.

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eat-limes-bitches · 4 months

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Hell Hath No Fury Like A Farmer Socrned

PAIRING: Female Rancher! Reader x Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: When his lover is snatched from her ranch, everyone better watch out, and not for the reason they all thought.

WARNINGS: Cannon-level violence, mentions of blood, fighting etc.

Word Count: 1284

A/N: Wow here we are! My first AU! I had this idea while I was a work the other day and thought it was funny. Sorry if it is not that coherent but I tried. If you guys want to see more of this pairing send me some ideas! I'd love to try some more of these two!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

James Bucky Barnes was known for many things, brilliant, cold, ruthless, fierce ruler of the Brooklyn mafia, amongst many other things. One thing he was not known for was his cool temperament when someone he cared for was in danger which is why his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson hesitated outside of their boss's office door, not sure how they would break the news. After sucking a deep breath, the pair walked into the room. Bucky sat at his sturdy redwood desk, feet propped up as he leaned back in his lavish office chair. His gaze snapped from the contract to his men standing in the doorway before returning to the papers in his hand as he spoke.

“How may I help you, gentleman?” His deep voice reverberated across the room.

“They’ve got her, boss,” Sam stated evenly, ice dancing across each word. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, staring down the mean in front of him.

“What?” He hissed, any other person in his company would have shivered at the venom lashing out of his words, but it just caused Steve to sigh looking his boss, his dear friend in the eyes.

“They got Y/n at the farm this morning. They just sent in a live video feed that Stark has pulled up in the conference room no-”

Before the words could finish leaving Steve’s mouth, Bucky was shoving past them and all but running down the hall to the conference room. He burst into the room to see Tony messing with the camera feed while the rest of his most trusted men sat around the table, staring at Bucky waiting for his reaction. Bucky walked over to his chair placing his hands on the back of it as he stared at the screen playing the live video feed of Y/n sitting there, tied to a chair with some plastic-coated twine, no doubt from the truck she was in earlier that morning.

Bucky’s eyes traced over her frame, looking for any injuries. If there was so much a hair out of place he thought as his ringed fingers gripped the plush material even harder, causing his knuckles to turn white. As he continued his assessment he landed on her face and it was then that he sucked in a breath, taking notice of how her once soft lips were now busted up and the small gash across the bridge of her nose. What caused him to let out a breath was the overall look on her face. She was livid. Her jaw clenched tightly, her once sparkling eyes dark with fury, he could practically see the rage pouring off of her. Evidently, the guards standing on either side of her took notice as they began to shift uncomfortably.

She's going to be fine. Bucky thinks to himself as he lets out a small sigh of relief.

Bucky pulled out his chair and sat down calmly, catching everyone in the room, including Steve and Sam who had joined the room just a few moments ago, off guard. He cocked his head sideways,

“Will you let them know that we are all present Stark? That seems to be what they are waiting on.” He spoke, his tone even and calm causing everyone to share looks as Tony patched in the audio.

“Afternoon Barnes.” A voice called out as a figure walked around from behind the camera revealing Brock Rumalow, the leader of the rival mob who had been fighting with the Barnes Corp. For many years.

“Looks like you are starting to slack, she was an easy grab.” Rumalow sneered as he approached Y/n, walking around her chair as he ran his hand up her arm and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck causing an even more crossed look to appear on her face.

“Such a shame, I don’t understand why you would let such a pretty little thing out of your sight.”

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Everyone knew about the sweet little cattle rancher Bucky fell in love with many months ago. He had finally brought her around during the Christmas party last month where she was loved by everyone who was able to talk with her. However, she was new to this world, his world and so everyone was worried about her the moment they heard she was taken, but watching her now, she didn’t seem the least bit scared, more annoyed than anything, causing confusion to ripple through the air, but no questions were asked as Rumalow continued speaking,

“I believe she has a few things to say to you, James.” He crowed walking away from Y/n with a pat on her cheek, returning to his position behind the camera while she let out a loud huff.

“Yeah, I got some things to say alright. If you aint here in the next hour, I’m gonna be walking home myself. I got a mare due any day now and these asswipes didn’t bother to close the cattle gate after they got me so now all the cattle are probably running amuck stressing out poor Parker.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, only Y/n would be worried about her poor farm hand while she sat tied down to a chair by her boyfriend's rival gang.

“I got the location of the camera Buck,” Tony calls out from behind the computer, “It’s only a few blocks away, in that old warehouse on the junction of 5th Avenue and Bakers Street.”

Bucky brushed invisible dust off his pants and started to speak when there was a large commotion coming from the video feed.

Everyone watched in pure shock as Y/n snapped the twine holding her in place, jumping up and kicking a chair at one guard and wrapping the now wrecked twine around the other's neck yanking him down to the ground, his skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack.

Once the guards were dispatched, Y/n glanced to her left before darting off in that direction, the shock of her escape must have finally worn off of Rumalow because everyone, except for Bucky, jumped to their feet as gunshots began ringing out behind the field of view of the camera. There is a loud metallic “thwang!” before Y/n returned to view, holding an old shovel with a small smattering of blood on it and an even more disgruntled look on her face as she examines her once clean cream and blue plaid shirt that was now ruined by a few small patches of blood.

Bucky smiles as he hears a few curses leave her mouth along with a “I just got the blood out of this shirt”.

Y/n then walks up to the camera, letting out a huff as she picks it up and starts making her way towards the side exit. She glances down at the camera before she starts speaking,

“By the looks of it, you have 45 minutes to get here before I start walking, which believe me you do not want me doing that. ‘Cause I swear to God and all that is holy James Buchannan Barnes if that foal is on the ground by the time I get back I’m whooping your and everyone else in that room's asses.”

Bucky chuckles and stands up looking at Sam and Steve as he motions for them to come with him to the garage to pick up Y/n.

“It looks like she had them after all.” Bucky muses as they enter the elevator. The other men nod in agreement as Sam then says, “Remind me to never piss her off.”

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #mafia au #mafia boss!Bucky x Rancher!Reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x you

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berzahoes · 4 months

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sing a song for you | tom blyth

summary: reader is on tour with hozier as his opening act and debuts a new song that tom helped write

an: yes this was because i am listening to hozier right now.

tom had taken some time off from doing interviews to finally attend one of your shows, well your opening act since you were on tour with one of your favorite artists, hozier. thankfully the show was near his brooklyn apartment so he didn’t have to drive far. he messaged you a couple of times but he knew you wouldn’t respond since you were busy preparing for the show.

when it was finally time to leave, tom made sure his apartment was locked and drove to the venue. as he parked his car, he quickly texted the cast group chat that he had arrived since rachel, josh and hunter were also attending. rachel texted back saying they were getting merch and that she had bought him one of your shirts.

before he could put his phone away, you called. “hey, i just arrived. rachel, josh and hunter are getting shirts.” he spoke into the phone.

“i could’ve given them free shirts. remind me to send them stuff later. sorry i didn’t text back. i just had the best conversation with beth about fleabag.” beth was your best friend and also your guitarist.

“you will take any opportunity to talk about fleabag and i love it.” tom smiled as he walked to the venue. he saw multiple people wearing homemade and official merchandise with your lyrics or logo and it made him happy.

“so i actually have a really important question.” you said.

“yes, love?”

“remember the song we made when you were filming billy the kid? i talked with the record label and it’s going on the next album,” you continue. “but i want to sing it tonight and the band said it was okay. and i want to ask you permission if it’s okay for me to sing it.”

“love, it’s your song. you don’t have to ask.” tom chuckled.

“yeah, but this song is half you half me. you’re getting writing credits on album, not just the song, tom. you helped a lot.” you reply.

“so does this mean if you win a grammy for the album, i will too?” he teased. “sing our song, i would be honored to hear you sing our song for the first time.”

“i love you.” you said then hung up.

“hello all of you lovely people!” you spoke into the microphone. the crowd cheered, tom being one of the many people that yelled the loudest. “you’ve been such a great crowd that i thought it would be a good time to sing a song that has never been heard by anyone other than me and the love of my life. he’s here tonight by the way along with our friends.”

you could feel yourself blush as tom yelled “i love you!”

“i love you more,” you replied. “he and i wrote this song in a day on the set of his show. thank you for being such a great crowd and i hope you all love this song as much as i loved writing it with my husband.” you smiled. you and tom would often call each other husband and wife even though you weren’t legally married. it was just a habit.

“that’s my wife!” tom yelled. rachel had gotten her phone out to record the performance and, of course, tom’s reaction.

watching the video that you sent me. the one where you’re showering with wet hair dripping

tom was amazed at your talent. he looked around the venue and saw how everyone was so focused on you. he then started to mumble the lyrics. he liked how you two were the only ones who knew the lyrics. it was your special moment. rachel had turned the camera from you to tom and noticed how in love tom looked. it was clear that you and tom were soulmates.

#tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #billy the kid #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #singer!reader

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lesmiserablol · 7 months

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when stevebucky said “you’d be heaven for anyone but you’re especially heaven for a sinner like me” and “even when i had nothing i had bucky” and “no not without you” and “the god’s honest truth is that i ain’t ever gonna love again she’s your true north i know what that means because you’re mine” and “that little guy from brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight. i’m following him. but you’re keeping the outfit right” and “no matter how many hail marys i recited in the dark with you laying next to me, it didn’t stop” and “but i knew him” and “then his wings melted all the way and he fell miles and miles into the ocean and brained himself on a rock that poor stupid asshole and i’ll tell you what i’m no better i’m no fucking better” and “thank you buck but i can get by on my own”/“the thing is you don’t have to i’m with you til the end of the line” and “i wont be in the history books that’s for you but i loved you first as long as they get that right i don’t care what they say” and “i’m not gonna fight you you’re my friend” and “bone of my bones were you taken from my rib?” and “you pulled me from the river” and “so how long have i loved you for? womb to tomb sweetheart. since before i was even here at all” and “i don’t know if i’m worth all this steve” and “i think we deserve a soft epilogue my love we are good people and we’ve suffered enough”

#WOMB TO FUCKING TOMB. I GET IT NOW. YOUR MA WAS RIGHT. IT REALLY IS A STUPID QUESTION #if you don’t love me at my stevebucky meltdowns then what the fuck are you still here for that is my constant mental state what the fuck #these are all canon btw isnt that crazy #stevebucky #or. as the common folk say #stucky #marvel

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

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You Belong To Me // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, smut/angst/fluff, Dom/Sub, role reversal, possessive sex, jealousy, threats of violence, size difference, car sex, rough sex, riding, multiple orgasms, cum shots, creampies, breeding kink (kinda), handjobs, oral (m and f receiving), body worship, praise kink, marking, begging

Words: 8.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“A strong woman may remain silent when people talk behind her back. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t notice. It simply means she chooses not to waste her energy on foolishness. She has more important things to do”. ~ A quote by someone much stronger than you that was for damn sure.

Anger was an emotion that you didn’t experience often and why would you? You were in a happy and safe relationship with two of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, the biggest inconvenience in your life was whether you had pasta or potato for dinner.

Today however, you felt an unstoppable rage that curled in the pit of your stomach, your blood pumping violently through your veins as it felt like you hadn’t blinked in over 10 minutes, jaw now aching from how hard you were clenching it.

“You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off, Boss Lady. Do I need to be worried?” Sam Wilson asks as he leans against the bar next to the stool you were currently sitting on.

You didn’t rush to reply to your bodyguard, instead lifting the glass you held firmly in your grip to your lips, sipping the alcohol that was strong enough that it burned as it passed down your throat and into the infernal rage in your stomach. Your nostrils flared as you rested your glass back into your lap, trying to take a deep breath as you watched the scene in front of you.

There were two of them. Two women that knew that Steve and Bucky were both your partners, in fact, you’d been introduced to them as Mrs Rogers-Barnes as per Steve’s request, even though you weren’t married, it was just his way of showing who you belonged to. Especially as you were in public and there was nothing more public than the party you were all attending as guests for Steve’s good friend and ally Thor.

The blonde, long-haired giant was very much a lady's man and seemed to have invited half of the female population of Brooklyn. Not that this was an issue, it was actually nice to spend some time with women as you spent so much time around dangerous men and you also felt confident with Steve and Bucky around women, they never even glanced away from you, EVER.

So this was why you had left with Sam to go and get another drink, already enjoying the alcoholic buzz in your veins and wishing for it to continue, however, this gave the perfect opportunity for these two women to flock to your boys.

It had been funny at first, seeing them being completely ignored by your two hulking boyfriends, their back turning as soon as the two girls approached. But this didn’t seem to affect their confidence, persistence and audacity to then lay hands against Bucky’s arm and Steve’s back. This was where you had reached your limit and then when they physically pushed between your boyfriends so they had to look at the girls, well now you were seeing red.

Steve and Bucky were YOURS. Even though you could see them continue to try and move away, how dare these girls, - who knew that the boys were taken - continued to flirt and talk and touch what was yours and just how far they would actually go to get the boy's attention, you didn’t want to find out.

Finishing your drink in a single swig, you placed your glass back onto the bar, slightly surprised that it didn’t smash with the force in which you placed it, before sliding down from the stool. However, a firm hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting your movements as you turned your violent gaze away from the girls and up to Sam.

“What?!”, you asked, voice dripping with poison and promises of fury. Sam’s eyes widen slightly having never heard this tone from you before and you instantly felt remorseful, muscles in your shoulders relaxing slightly, “sorry”, you apologised for your tone.

“I know you’ve got some evil mastermind plan to go over there and whack them one, but don’t do anything out of anger. I’m more than happy to shoot my way out of a situation for you but we’re in a room half filled with gang members that won’t hesitate to shoot if there’s suddenly a fight”.

You released a heavy sigh knowing he was right as you glanced back at the girls, seeing them laughing obnoxiously whilst trying to push their bodies closer to your boys who still continued to try and step away. “Fuck, I want to punch them so badly”, you huffed under your breath.

Sam chuckled deeply, having never seen you this angry before, usually in these sorts of situations you’d be completely overwhelmed, anxious and upset. Clearly, the alcohol was acting as a liquid courage, your anxieties were pushed to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do”, Sam continued, feeling uncomfortable with the way the girls were acting, noticing the way Natasha was now trying to move them away as she was the boy’s bodyguard. “I’m sure that Boss and Bucky would love nothing more than to see you be their knight in shining armour but I’m just saying - be careful for me… please? Make my life a little easier”, he joked, not letting go of your arm as he tried to catch your eye.

The corner of your lip quipped up slightly, looking up at him, his kind eyes meeting yours, “And what do you suppose I do? Let them continue to touch MY boyfriends? They’re mine!”

You’d never been this verbally possessive, never having been in this mindset before.

“You can do whatever you want Sweetheart and I’ll be there to back you up, no matter what, I’m just saying to take a breathe and think about what you’re doing”.

Sam was right, he always was so you took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth and straightened your spine. Sam seemed to believe that you’d calmed enough as he released the grip on your arm.

“You good?” he asked, resting his hands on your shoulders, giving you a little shake.

“Yeah, I’m good”, you responded.

Turning on the spot, you looked back towards Steve and Bucky who were now looking at you with a quizzical expression, eyes brightening as you finally approached where they were. However you didn’t stop directly next to them, no, you strutted straight for the girls who were a few feet away now thanks to Natasha’s perseverance but they still looked over towards your boyfriends.

You hoped you looked as deadly as you felt, a sly smirk on your lips, shoulders rolled back as you stopped in front of the two girls who were taller than you but this didn’t knock your confidence, as you spoke loud enough that your voice cut through the music, keeping it in a sickly sweet tone. “I see the way you’re looking at them”, you pointed your head in the direction of Steve and Bucky who were watching the exchange intently, Natasha to their left with a proud smirk plastered to her beautiful face and you could feel Sam close behind you still.

The girls looked up and down your body, their eyes full of judgement and disdain, one of them sucked on their teeth, tilting her head to the side, “And who are you supposed to be?”

You looked her directly into her soulless eyes, “Oh you know exactly who I’m supposed to be”. This confidence was something you’d never experienced before, gone was the timid, highly anxious girl, when it came to your boyfriends, no one would get in the way of your protection even if they didn’t necessarily need it. To be disrespected in front of you with the lack of shits given by the two girls, you weren’t going to let them get away with it.

One of the girls, who sucked her teeth stepped forward so you were only a foot away from each other, “and why the fuck would we give a shit about that?”

You didn’t back down, stepping close enough that you could smell her rancid cheap perfume, the tips of her shoes grazing yours, “Because then you’d know that they are taken. Do you both understand what the means? Get. Fucking. Lost. They are mine”.

The girls both choked on a laugh, “You don’t fucking own them, maybe they want a taste of us, I can guarantee they’d be begging for more”.

Now it was your turn to laugh at the sheer audacity of these girls. It wasn’t a dainty laugh either, no, it was one that you had to hold your belly because of the ache, drawing other people’s attention from around you. Trying to take a deep breath to gather yourself, wiping away at the corner of your eye to the tears that had gathered there, you could see that your laughing had hit a nerve as both of their girls’ jaws were tensed.

Good, you thought. It wasn’t the part about ownership that had you laughing, in fact, Steve and Bucky had made it more than clear that you had their whole heart but it was the part about begging for more. All it would take was a single look and you knew your boyfriends would be begging for more, to touch your body, to kiss your lips, to hear your moans, these girl's naivety was truly baffling.

Returned to look them both in the eyes, your orbs flicking from one face to another as you returned to your natural calm, words spoken lowly with every ounce of promise that you could muster. “If you touch or even look at either of them again, I’ll break your fucking hands. You don’t know what the fuck I’m capable of”.

Turning on the spot, officially finished with the conversation, not allowing the fear of actually threatening someone to take over and thankfully the girls didn’t shout anything back. This was a small blessing because you were one more word away from upsetting Sam and punching the one closest straight in the throat.

The two bodyguards and more important, Steve and Bucky were watching with expressions you hadn’t really witnessed before. Nat and Sam looked almost proud of you with gleaming eyes and smirks across their faces. Whereas your boyfriends, well from the obvious tents in their suit trousers, there was lust as you’d never seen before, mouths gaped open as you approached them all.

“We’re leaving”, you stated matter of factly.

“Why?”, Bucky asked, his voice soft and he looked almost like he was in a trance.

Catching his eye as you replied, “Because if they look at you like that again, I’m going to fucking kill them both”.

Not waiting for anyone’s reaction, having made the decision for them already, you reached to grab your boyfriend's hands, pulling them with ease as they stayed by your side as you all made towards the exit.

Natasha was by your side in a second to open up the doors for you all, she glanced in your direction, whistling lowly, “I like this side of you, Sugar”.

A heated flush encompassed your body at the compliment but it didn’t falter your steps as Sam now too rushed in front as you all arrived at the large SUV. Sam held open the car door for you as Natasha climbed into the driver's seat, Steve and Bucky following in close behind you and then finally Sam was in the passenger seat.

As soon as you were in the car, you were taking off your heels, needing some freedom from them. Your body was still trembling with anger and adrenaline, not even thinking of normal thoughts as you felt Steve’s warm body slide next to yours into the middle seat, followed by Bucky.

The car was only just starting when you were climbing into Steve’s lap, already having decided this when you had approached those girls, they were your boys, you needed to feel them.

“Baby”, Steve began hands on your body to help as you straddle his lap in the limited room, your leg awkwardly slotting between his thigh and Bucky’s. Any words he was planning on saying were cut off as your face smashed into his, lips moving against his in a bruising manner, almost violently.

Steve kissed you back with just as much passion, one of his vast hands cupping the back of your head and the other hand resting on your hip, helping as you ground your hips against his, the material of your thin dress riding up over your thighs with the movements. The mafia leader groaned deeply into the kiss, especially as your warm, wet tongue slipped into his mouth as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss further.

But you weren’t waiting another minute, pulling back, hand blindly reaching out to Bucky, feeling his rough facial hair beneath your fingertips and pulling him closer just for him to meet your lips as you moved your attention to him.

The car began moving but you didn’t care, or the fact that Natasha and Sam were in the car, they’d already seen the three of you fucking plenty of times before.

As Bucky’s tongue brushed against your lips, you opened yours just as eagerly as you had with Steve, groaning at the taste of him. Your hips continued to rock against Steve, who had moved his sinful mouth to your neck, his teeth nipping along the sensitive skin.

In all honesty, you were not thinking clearly, it was almost like the little devil on your shoulder had taken over your body. All that kept spiralling through your thoughts were those stupid girls’ faces as they looked at your boyfriends. THEY WERE YOURS. You needed to feel them, taste them, hear them, everything you possibly could just to soothe your inner demon, and insecurities, wanting to prove that they only wanted you.

However, as the car continued to move, Steve tried to regain some stability to the moment, his mouth removing from your jaw, “Honey, you need to put your seat belt on”.

Now it was your turn to remove yourself from your boyfriend, lips tingling as you also sucked in air greedily, looking at Steve and not missing a beat as you demanded, “Take out your cock”.

Steve also matched your speed, eyes flicking to the front of the car, “Nat, find somewhere to park right now”. Then his hands were pulling your face back to his, nose squishing against his cheek as he wrapped his two muscular arms around your body, trapping you in almost like you were his seatbelt.

Your own hand was still holding onto the side of Bucky’s head, the brunette was kissing your palm, the sensation tickling your skin and then his lips were wrapping around your thumb and sucking it into his mouth in a highly erotic move that sent heat straight to your cunt.

Pulling back from Steve momentarily and looking at Bucky, admiring the view and the way in which his usually bright blue eyes were almost black in colour with his blown-out pupils. “I want your cock out too”, you requested to Bucky.

“Yes ma’am”, he replied after releasing your thumb, swiftly undoing his belt and zipper, his hips lifting so his suit trousers and boxers could be pushed to his midthigh. His flesh hand automatically wrapped around his length moving steadily up and down to try and ease some of the tension that he was experiencing ever since he saw you stand up to his girls.

Thankfully the car pulled to a stop, Natasha and Sam didn’t waste any time before getting out of the car and you didn’t even check out of the window where they’d stop, only really realising that they’d found somewhere because Steve’s secure arms loosened around you.

This gave him the opportunity to reach for his own zipper but you needed to feel someone now and Bucky was already sitting there looking pretty and ready.

“Too slow”, you teased Steve with a huskier voice than usual as you began to climb over him to straddle Bucky’s lap, lifting your dress further around your hips, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull your underwear to the side and sinking down onto Bucky’s cock.

“Holy fucking shit”, Bucky gasped at your abrasiveness, having never seen you like this before, your pussy walls fluttering as you had to stretch and adjust to his size quickly. Luckily you were already drenched with arousal and need that helped you to slip down his length.

Bucky’s nibble fingers reached for your underwear, easily tearing the material into two and removing it from your person and discarding somewhere in the SUV. With your hands clutching the nape of his neck, fingers teasing the shaved hair as he massaged your hips, both sucking in a deep breath before you seemed to snap out of any restraint you’d been holding back.

As your mouth once again frantically found him, you began to ride him, hard and fast like it was a race to the finish line. The noises he was producing only encouraged your fucking, the vibrations from his moans, seeping into your chest from where it rubbed against his. You were both breathless but didn’t stop the kiss, almost like you were trying to prove a point, which in a way you were, just how far you could go to pleasure him.

The car was shaking with your momentum as you chased Bucky’s high, not your own, you didn’t care about cumming right now, you just wanted Bucky to feel good, needed to see him orgasm.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the lack of air, you finally pulled away, lips swollen slightly and shiny from the shared saliva, the atmosphere warm from being in a contained space, the sweat-coating body of your bodies. Your mouth wasn’t finished with its pleasuring though as you tilted his head back and hungrily kissed and nipped his neck, harder than usual, making sure to leave teeth indents and purple spots.

You were never one to mark up the boys, they always needed to remain professional looking and you did feel slightly like a loved-up teenager frantically fucking in the car but it was just one more way that you could show that he was yours.

“Tell me you’re mine”, you demanded, and his first response was to moan in such a way it was almost pornographic.

“I’m yours”, Bucky responded gruffly, hands squeezing your hips harder. It was your turn to moan, purposefully clenching your cunt around his cock tighter. “Fuck!” Bucky cursed into your ear, his grip now painful and sure to leave bruises beneath the skin but you didn’t care, it was motivating you more. “If you keep this up Doll, I’m gonna cum before we even get home”, he admitted, eyes closed in concentration.

This was like music to your ears, as you pulled back, leaning your forehead against his, your hips still frantically moving up and down. “Good, I want you to cum, right now! Please Bucky”, your voice was pleading to him as once again you squeezed your cunt around him, almost suffocating his length.

“Ah mama- fuck”, Bucky was almost delirious, unable to form a full sentence with how good he felt at that moment. Not only did he get to see you looking fucking sexy as hell standing up to those girls at the party but now you were riding his cock like a woman on a mission.

Your mind was still only on the end goal of him cumming, needing to see the pleasure in his face which was hard with the blurred motion of you riding him but as his mouth gaped open as he released a recognisable little noise that he always did just before he came, you slide of his cock and sat back on his thighs.

Both of your hands quickly wrapped around his soaked, throbbing cock, squeezing tightly and moving up and down at the same speedy space, paying particular attention to his tip, thumb stroking over the underside that was most sensitive.

Bucky looked almost feral, his entire body leaving the seat, lifting your body with it as he shouted, “FUCK! Just…right there! That feels so good!” With the momentum of both of your bodies, as he began cumming, the spurts of white globs shot up both of your bodies, coating his shirt and your dress and you didn’t stop, not until his cock finally stopped throbbing in your hands.

You were both breathing hard, particularly Bucky who looked shocked to the core, his hands releasing their grip on your hips to massage the tender area.

“I’ve never cum that quick before”, Bucky admitted, his head falling back against the headrest.

You felt almost powerful at this revelation, you had done this to him, only your body and words and caused such a reaction.

Glancing over at Steve who was lazily stroking himself, watching with half-lidded eyes, you were nowhere near done, using with an authoritative tone, “Take your clothes off”.

As Steve does as instructed, you leaned in close to Bucky, kissing his puffy lips softly, trying to have a tender moment as he whispered, “I love you”, against your lips.

“I love you too Bucky”, you replied with just as much sparkle in your eyes.

“An I am yours”, he reminded, stroking your cheek briefly as Steve finally settled next to you, now stark naked from head to toe.

Spending amount to appreciate his perfectly sculpted body, the muscles that flexed in the subtle light and the trail of hair that surrounded his red, veiny dick. Your mouth filled with saliva as you wanted nothing more than to wrap your lips around him but there would be time for that later.

With as much grace as you could muster, you climbed back over to Steve, straddling his thick thighs and a thought dawned on you. Realising that this might have been the first time you had been fully clothed whilst both Steve and Bucky were naked and it felt incredibly empowering.

Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip as he admired your beauty, “I like seeing you like this”, he complimented, his breath fanning across your face with the close proximity.

You don’t respond to his praise, knowing that if you did talk it would most likely be a pathetic moan and you needed to keep this persona up so once more, you raised higher on your knees, guiding his cock to your entrance and sank down his length.

Once again, you didn’t want to waste time and began slamming up and down his body, hips rolling with each slap. Now you moaned deeply at the sensation between your legs and at the sight of Steve’s naked chest being covered with smears of Bucky’s cum from where it was still weight on the front of your dress.

Steve’s head dropped back at the feeling of you riding him, exposing the beautiful length of his skin and once again something took over your body, the possessive little demon that wanted to mark and claim him as your own. You sucked a path up the side of his neck, biting harshly on the junction where his shoulder and throat met, making Steve sigh in pleasure.

Against the side of your leg, you could feel Bucky’s slacks rubbing against your skin, still all trying to squish into the back of the car so as you finished leaving a particularly dark purple against Steve’s collarbone, you looked over at Bucky.

“Take your clothes off too”

“Yes, hot mama”.

You loved how they both were doing everything you instructed without a moment's hesitation, only spurring you on more with wanting to see Steve cum just as hard as Bucky had. With your fingers delved into the slightly damp hair at the name of Steve’s neck, you held his head in place, making sure that he watched you ride him.

“I want you to cum too, fill me up with your seed, wanna feel you dripping out of me”. Steve’es eyes rolled to the back of his hearing such dirty words leaving your lips. You did want him to cum inside of you, but not yet but he didn’t need to know that just yet, as mentioned, you were only just getting started.

Steve’s hips suddenly started fucking into your harder, planting his feet firmly onto the car floor so he could push up to meet your movements. “That’s it, I want you to cum Stevie”.

Your boyfriend shouts loudly, enough for anyone nearby to hear, holding your hips down with plans to cum inside your cunt, but once again you managed to roll off just in time, only moving your hands up and down his shaft twice before he's coating the two of your fronts in his white hot seed, much like Bucky.

His body twitches and jolts as he tries to come down from his high before he all but collapses into the seat, looking at you with a dangerous smile, “I thought you said I could cum inside of you”.

Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, you replied in a sultry voice, “You will. You both will”

You’re looking at him and then Bucky. Both naked and there was nothing you wanted more than to carry on the fun games but you needed more space, needing to be out of the cramped car. Steve’s fingers drifted to your upper back, grazing over the zipper of your dress but you stopped his movements by pulling his arms away gently.

“I want to go home”, you explained to his quizzical look.

“We will baby, but I need you to cum first”. The way he said need, had your pussy throbbing more and you were aching to find some relief with your own orgasm but that still wasn’t your priority, still planning to make them both feel good.

“No, I want to go home”, you whisper, looking into Steve's eyes and he gave in almost immediately with a huff at not being able to give you the relief he knew you wanted. Bucky banged against the window as you sat back into your seat beside Steve who helped you to pull your seatbelt over your body, whispering in your ear how much he fucking loved you before pulling his own safety restraint across his naked body.

Now you could look out the window, you saw that Natasha and Sam had parked in a random, dark alleyway in an area you didn’t recognise. The two bodyguards returned to the car and didn’t comment about the lack of clothing or the thick scent of sex in the car, both just casually chatting with each other as the journey home continued.

Steve’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire journey and from the corner of your eye, you could see them both getting hard again which thrilled you massively. Finally, the gates to your home were in sight and then you were bidding your friends/bodyguards a good night and walking into the house.

You were still fully clothed except for your panties and shoes, whereas Steve and Bucky were stark bollock naked, erect cocks bobbing in the air for all of the guards and security to see but they didn’t care, neither did you.

Your steps stopped in the entryway to your home, hearing the soft click as the door shut and the flick of the switch as Steve turned on the overhead light. Glancing around at your home, you breathed in the homely scents and let the familiar setting calm the little nerves that were beginning to push to the forefront of your mind.

You began to feel embarrassed by your out-of-control behaviour, shoulders dropping as the confidence seemed to seep away into the wooden floor below. A solid, warm body stepped into your line of vision, a finger was crooked under your chin to force you to look up into Steve’s eyes which were calm and twinkling with love.

“You know we don’t want anyone else right? I have always, and will always just want you”, Steve spoke softly and earnestly.

“Yeah…Yeah I know”, and you did know this. In fact, it was probably the main reason why you hadn’t cried today and let the anger come over your body. Your boyfriends had gone above and beyond for you, to keep up their affections and remind you daily of your importance to their life, you did not doubt it for a second that these girls were ever truly a threat to your relationship.

Another warm body was touching yours to the right, Bucky now taking control of the direction in which your head pointed whilst also raising his little finger, “Just us until forever right?” Your smile reached your eyes now at his little saying, something he’d recently begun saying when you were feeling doubtful and you were quick to hook your own much daintier little finger around his, squeezing them together.

You still felt somewhat embarrassed by your behaviour though and felt the need to apologise, beginning to form the words, “I’m sor-”.

Steve didn’t want to hear this though, cutting you off with his lips and kissing yours feverishly before pulling back when you were breathless. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise for today, I’ve never been so fucking turned on seeing you so possessive and jealous. Like Bucky said in the car, I’ve never cum so quick before”.

“Really?” you ask tentatively, looking up into his face, making sure that he wasn’t just saying this to make you feel better but with the intense way his eyes bore into yours, you knew he was very much telling the truth.

Steve had another way of showing you just how much he meant it though as his fingers slide around your wrist, bringing your hand up to touch just how rock-hard his cock was. “Yes really”.

Your hand circled around his length, moving up and down slowly, feeling the soft skin beneath and the ridges from the veins and a drop of precum forming at the end as you moved up his cock. Steve shuddered at the sensation, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, hips rolling in time with your movements.

You admired him closely, from his parted lips to the rosy hint on his cheeks from his flushed arousal, to the sprinkly purple marks across his throat that you had left earlier in the car. It made you feel powerful. Yes, he was your boyfriend and you saw him every day but knowing that he was also the leader of the Rogers Mafia gang and here he was, shuddering at a simple touch of your hand, it was elating.

Bucky was now desperate for your attention as his lips lowered to the shell of your ear, “Let me make you feel good, wanna taste between your pretty thighs”.

You wanted that too, in fact, you were almost desperate to be touched like that but you also didn’t think you were done just yet with making them feel good so you simply shook your head softly.

Bucky frowned, pulling back to look into your eyes, “Why not Mama?”

“Because I want to make you feel good”.

Your hand was still leisurely wanking off Steve who was breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring before he choked out as your thumb brushed over his tip, “And you have made us feel good, baby”.

Bucky once again pulled your attention as he continued talking, “Seeing you today stand up to those girls like someone had taken over your body, that you were willing to go out of your comfort zone just to stand up to those girls, was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I nearly came over and fucked you in the middle of the party if you didn’t drag us out of there anyway. I know you’re soaking for us Mama, let me make you feel good like you’ve done for us”.

Your thighs rubbed together at his words about fucking you at the party, sort of wishing he had just so you could have seen those girls’ faces but then you would have missed out on the fun in the car. The thought of both of their faces as they climaxed had you reaching for Bucky’s cock, joining in with tossing him off at the same pace as Steve, not quite ready to give in yet.

The brunette’s eyes closed at your touch, sighing as he felt the same tension rolling away as you pumped his cock with your hand. There you were once more, pleasuring both of your boyfriends. Both of whom towered over you, and you could spend a minute admiring the way they let you touch them and the power that you held causing a small smile to form on your face, especially as Steve grunted, hips jerking again.

Even though your hands were aching with how hard you were squeezing them both, your movements became more enthusiastic. Steve and Bucky were so exposed, not even in the living room, just standing in the chilled entryway, being wanked off by you.

They deserved this, you decided. Of course, they did, they always made it their mission to worship your body thoroughly and you wanted to replay the favour.

Your mouth opened as you were about to ask if you could suck them off but you decided against asking, the alcohol buzz had worn off in the car but the adrenaline was enough to keep you thrilled.

“Hands behind your back”, you suddenly demanded, still keeping your voice soft and deciding to try and keep up the control for just a little bit longer. Steve and Bucky were instantly placing their hands behind their backs, their chests broadening and feet spreading a little bit to help their centre of gravity.

Both of their eyes were on you now, the various shades of ocean blue staring down at you, waiting for your next instruction, but you didn’t give them one, instead you dropped to your knees.

There was an audible suck in of breath from men as they watched you descend. The wooden flooring was cold against your knees and you had to rise to your fullest length on them to reach both cocks with the length of their powerful legs. You began with Steve this time, licking the underside slowly, holding his eye contact and tasting the salty goodness of his sweat and cum and even a hint of your own juices from where they’d dried on him.

Kissing the tip of his cock and swirling your tongue around the sensitive area, your one hand gripped his base to stop it from bobbing around, whilst your other hand continued to move along Bucky’s shaft.

You couldn’t help but smile around Steve’s tip as you noticed that his shoulders and upper arms were flexing as he tightened his grip behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to stroke your cheek but he was good and kept his arms behind his back as you moved further down his cock with your mouth.

His girthy dick was heavy against your tongue and as it grazed the back of your throat, stroking the area that was your limit. But you made sure to start slow, now wanting to push yourself too much as you could only take half of his length into your mouth.

“Your mouth is always so good baby girl”, Steve praised, a hint of red flushing across his face with his increasing arousal. You hummed in approval, the ache in your jaw and knees worth it to see him slowly bit by bit losing control.

But then, you’re moving over to Bucky who steps closer instinctively to help you reach him and it was an automatic response for you to praise him, the words whispering across the tip of his cock, “Good boy”.

Bucky let out the smallest whine from the centre of his chest and there were notable goosebumps that spread across his thighs, nipples perking as he shivered with the sensation. It was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen and you didn’t waste another second before pulling him into your mouth, pleasuring him thoroughly.

You spent your sweet time moving between them both, saliva coating your mouth as they teased to push further down your throat. You were surprised just how well they were following your instructions as well as they both kept in that stance with their arms behind their back, their eyes not moving from yours as you moved from Steve’s cock to Bucky’s and vice versa.

Their sweet moans were so beautiful, especially as you slipped further down to suck a ball or two into your mouth, your tongue lapping against the sack and enjoying the way they hissed at the touch.

“You look so good on your knees like that”, Steve complimented at one point as you sucked your cheeks harshly around Bucky’s dick. Looking up at the blonde man and removing yourself with an audible pop before moving back over to Steve and pleasuring him.

It was fun going from one to the other and being in complete control, knowing you were slightly edging them before going to the next boyfriend. Your knees were starting to hurt more now with how long you had been on the floor but you didn’t let this stop you, contemplating if you should get them to finish in your mouth or a different body part.

It also dawned on you that this was the first time you’d been in charge in any sort of intimate moment, both Steve and Bucky being the definite dominants in the relationship. But in truth, you were enjoying this little role reversal and with how feral you were feeling after the interactions with the girls, you were glad to have the liquid courage in you to go through with it.

However, being this dominant with two powerful men was also slightly tiring, trying to decide what to do next when all you really had planned was that you wanted them to feel good. But you also couldn’t deny just how horny you were, in between your thighs uncomfortable with need and soaked enough it was leaking down your thighs.

As you gagged slightly around Bucky’s cock, you could feel it hardening slightly against your tongue and hand as he grunted, “Please, mama”.

“Please what? Talk to me Bucky”, you encouraged, wanting to hear more sweet words coming from his mouth.

The man shuddered once more as your voice vibrated against the tip of his throbbing cock, and as he opened his mouth, you truly took him in and just how desperate he was. His metal arm was whirring at the shoulder with how much he was holding it back with his normal hand, knowing he wanted nothing more than to hold the back of your head in place or cup your face.

“Say my name again”, he asked breathlessly, eyes closing for a breath second as you smiled up at him, one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Which name?” you teased. “Bucky? Buckaroo?”, with each name, you kissed along the length of his member, still tossing him at the base though for stimulation, the same with Steve. “What name do you want me to use? What about James?” He hissed at this name, cock throbbing more and you made a mental note of this and continued. “What about punk? Barnes?... Good boy?”

Steve’s cock also throbbed in your hand at the last name but it was mostly because Bucky suddenly came and you quickly had to swallow the tip and drink everything he was willing to offer, the substance thick and salty as it slide down your throat.

Bucky’s knees wobbled momentarily, frantically praising your name like a song until the last drop of cum was being sucked out of his member. You made sure to pull off of him fully, not wanting to overstimulate him, amazed slightly as he didn’t soften, it continued to stand up proud between his legs.

Smiling up at Bucky again with accomplishment, you then looked over at Steve, squeezing his length harder as he grunted down his own chiselled body at you readjusting on the wooden floor to remain only facing him, giving him your full attention.

“Are you still comfortable down there?” he asked, licking his lips whilst checking in on you.

Holding his eye contact, you licked his thick tip, nodding to his question. Steve chuckled and then sighed into the stimulation, closing his eyes for a second to savour the feeling before looking down at you with a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t believe you baby”, his voice was full of confidence. In truth, you were very uncomfortable, our knees screaming for some relief from the solid floor but also your pussy was desperate to be touched but you didn’t want to make it about you just yet.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky squatting down to be eye level with you, his arms still behind him, “let us make you feel good”, he asked with hope laced into every word.

Pulling off of Steve, and leaned into his warm thigh, nuzzling into the hair that covered the muscle, “But I want to make you both feel good! You’re my boys and not anyone else’s, it’s my job to make you feel good”.

“And you’ve made us feel good but this goes both ways, you don’t understand just how much I want to be in between your legs right now” Bucky admitted, his eyes wandering over your still-clothed body, his cheeks just as pink-tinged as Steves.

Looking up at the man whose leg you were leaning on, you asked, “What do you think Steve?”, before risking a quick nip to his sensitive thighs with your teeth, admiring the way his cock bounded in the air as he jumped slightly.

Steve’s voice came out in a growl, “I fucking NEED to touch you, even if it’s just a kiss. I need you up and off your knees, I know they hurt and I don’t want you in pain, there’s only so much time I can let you worship me before I get on MY knees and fucking beg to touch you, baby, so please, let us touch you.”

Heat flooded through your body at the intensity at which he spoke, you thought you were desperate, but that seemed to not be as severe as the mental game going on in Steve’s mind right now.

Biting your lip to try and hide your grin, you finally succumbed, “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Do whatever you want to me”.

You weren’t exactly sure who had grabbed you first. All you were aware of were hands picking you up and instant relief for your poor knees and then the sound of ripping as your dress was easily destroyed. Then you suddenly found yourself staring at the ceiling of the living room, the soft material of the couch beneath your now naked spine.

Lips were crashing into yours, a hot body crowding over yours, pushing you further into the cushions, their lips completely dominating yours. Matching the urgency in which they moved, you felt the rough scrap of facial hair and could taste Bucky, smiling into the kiss as your fingers gently ran over his body, spending extra seconds of love over the scars that he’d accustomed during his life.

As you opened your mouth to moan, Bucky’s tongue swallowed the noise, not relenting with his movements. You were so lost in the body hovering over yours that you were unsure as to where Steve was until you could feel him on one of your legs, kissing the sore knee cap, massaging the area before straightening your leg, and then circling around to the back of the couch to do the same with the other leg.

The relief was unbelievable at being able to extend your legs fully now but there was even more relief as Bucky began to explore your body, sucking on each of your nipples greedily, an action you watched closely. With each in further down your body, he made sure to lick and kiss every area of skin in his path, leaving the skin tingling with arousal.

Both of your legs were then being pushed towards your chest, giving Bucky the perfect view of your cunt, presented to him like it was dinner and with the hungry way in which he was admiring you, you knew that was basically what had been offered to him.

“You’re so beautiful”, he praised, kissing your inner thigh. Steve then sat next to your head, finally able to stroke the pad of his thumb across your cheek, something he had been internally begging to do since getting home and seeing you drop to your knees.

“We’re always just yours”, Steve reminded you, needing the tender moment.

“I’m always going to be yours too”, you responded with love before glancing down at Bucky who was watching with a softened look in his eyes, “and I’m always going to be yours as well,” Bucky mumbled the words back to you, his warm breath teasing the wet area soaking your cunt. Glancing down his body, you caught sight of his cock, still fully erect and pulsating. “How are you still hard?” you asked honestly, he’d already cum twice and hadn’t softened a single bit.

Bucky smirked at your question with quiet arrogance, “I’m always hard for you”. As soon as he finished his sentence, his tongue was pushing into your folds, tasting everything you had to offer. He didn’t bother with teasing, immediately delving his warm muscle into your cunt a few times, before finding your clit and rolling it around with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

Your moans were animalistic and finally had some stimulation after being horny for what felt like hours. Steve’s fingers drifted over your lips as he admired your pleasured expressions, just like you had been doing to the two of them.

“Kiss me. Now!” you demanded urgently.

“Yes, ma’am”. He was leaning down without hesitation and you realised just how much you’d missed his lips since coming home, feeling the freshly shaved cheeks against yours that were such a different sensation to Bucky’s facial hair. They were both so different and yet so similar and they were both yours.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to have you clenched your thighs around his head, frantically feeling the orgasm building in your core. A couple of minutes of clit stimulation from Bucky’s tongue and two fingers grazing over your tender spot within your hole and you were cumming with heavy breaths and moans.

Steve pulled away from the kiss to watch your pleasure, and also allowed Bucky to hear your unfiltered moans, then you were heavily breathing, hands falling onto the couch with relief of finding your peak.

Steve drops to his knees beside the couch so he can whisper into your ear, “I’m going to take you upstairs, lie you in the middle of our bed and I’m going to fuck you until you’re full of my cum. Then after I’m dripping out of you, Bucky here is going to do the exact same thing. This night isn’t ending until you’re full of both of us”.

You’re pathetically mewling at his words, reaching for him and he quickly scoops you up into his arms. You knew your dominant persona was slowly fading as they both scrambled to make you feel good and you didn’t mind that as much, wanting what he said he was going to do, more than anything else in the world.

As the three of you enter your bedroom and Bucky turns on the side lights, you realised you were nuzzling into the side of Steve’s neck where you’d left the scattering of marks. Stroking a finger over the bruised skin, you whispered, “So pretty”.

Steve smirks at your words, liking the thought of you marking him to show that he was yours. Laying you back into the centre of the bed, Steve is quickly on top of you with as much urgency as Bucky had downstairs on the couch.

Hiking your legs up and around his waist as his face dropped to hide into your neck, he's pushing his pulsing cock into your quivering cunt. You were thankful that he didn’t wait, wanting your bodies to be moulding together, his hips slapping into yours and his mouth was now moving against your neck, sucking and biting to match the moves you’d been doing in the car.

You could feel just how possessive and frantic his touches were, reciprocating how you had felt and it only made your heart beat harder, moan louder and hips rocking faster to try and match his dominant pace.

“You’re mind”, he suddenly grunts, against your lips, biting your lower lip and letting it snap back a second later. Sitting up slightly on his knees, he holds your jaw firmly in his grip, making you watch him as he shifted his angle up, hitting directly into your g-spot and he moved with such speed that all you could do was hold onto his wrist and scream out his name.

Your orgasm had you seeing stars, cunt desperately squeezing in pulses around Steve’s cock, so tightly that he too couldn’t hold back as he came, pushing his length all the way in so you could milk him properly, your walls convulsing in time with his throbs. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his cum filling you up and as he pulled up, some of it spilling out and running down your perineum.

Steve sits back to admire his handiwork, pushing your legs apart, and watching his cum at your entrance. “There’s my best girl”, he praised, reaching down with a finger to scoop the drips that had escaped and attempting to push them back inside of your body before moving out of the way for Bucky.

Bucky was more than ready to fill you up, helping to turn you onto your side, sliding an arm under your head and resting your leg up on his hip as he spooned in behind you. Much like Steve, Bucky didn’t waste any time before sliding in, the two of you moaning at the sensation of having Steve’s cum there, it causing extra squelching noises.

Your tits bounded on your chest with each fuck of Bucky’s hips into yours, his mouth attack your neck with just as much aggression as Steve who was now sitting and watching the two of you with a content smile.

You were absolutely fucked out of your mind both from emotions and physically being exhausted, a faint hum settling in your mind and body.

“You’re doing so well for us, Sweet Mama”, Bucky praised against your cheek as he reached down your body to roll your clit in circles to match the rhythm of his pounding hips. The stimulation was almost too much but it was also exactly what you needed as you held onto his arm desperately moaning out his name.

“Buc-Bucky… gonna cum”.

“Cum for me then Doll, want you to cum on my cock, so pretty when you cum”. His praises were like magic for your cunt, as it squeezed tightly in arousal. Those, matched with his tight hold on your body, his fingers playing with your clit and cock fucking you hard, you easily found your pleasurable high.

He didn’t stop, chasing his own orgasm which you were glad about, reaching down to grab the hand between your legs, your clit becoming a little sensitive now so you bought his hand up to your face and nuzzled into his palm.

“Mine”, you mumbled, feeling a little bit subspacey now.

“Yours, all yours, only yours, FUCK!” Bucky felt like he was in heaven as his thrusts stuttered slightly as he finally found his release, pumping his hot seed into your core. Your eyes were struggling to stay open with how exhausted you felt, but you watched as Steve approached, just in time for Bucky to slip out of your raw cunt.

“How beautiful does she look?” Bucky asked Steve as he held up your leg. Steve’s eyes cleaned as he looked at the mess between your legs, both his and Bucky’s cum were leaking from your hole, mixing with your own juices.

“So fucking beautiful”, Steve whispered lightly, kissing your ankle.

Your eyes closed fully now, sighing into the mattress as Bucky kissed your cheek one more time before untangling himself from your body. It was Steve who was touching your body next but this time with a warm cloth, carefully cleaning in between your legs but cum continued to trickle out so he just left it at that, discarding the material and moving to the top of the bed, dragging you easily along with him until you were laid out on his chest.

You felt happy and content as Bucky joined you both in the bed, watching as Steve turned on the TV attached to the wall. Distantly, you could hear Bucky and Steve discussing what take out order to get, making sure to get everything you would usually get and saying they would wake you once it was there, you needed a rest.

Your heart swelled with love, happy to be surrounded by two men that absolutely adored you and no other stupid girls were going to ever change that.

#mafia au #mafia!stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #bucky x reader #marvel smut #marvel oneshot #mine*#request

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caitlinbueckers · 3 days

Text

told you so.

kate martin x reader

2.9k

woooooh this is a fucking doozy guys. literally received one (1) anon and then i blacked out for an hour and a half soooo here’s this ! realized during this journey that kate martin means an unfathomable amount to me and it’s like . Actually concerning 🔥🔥

ANYWAYS it’s giving Kate martin’s controversially hidden girlfriend that goes lowk public at the wnba draft like SHUT UP

18+ AS FUCK

“babe, quit looking at me like that.”

if there’s one thing you know, above the fact that you were certain there was gonna be an unsuspected draft tonight, was that kate martin could be such a bitch in the morning.

not that this was new for you, in any sense— you’d been more than used to it since the dawn of your relationship, learning all the little things about her that made her tick. whether that was her favorite to least favorite foods, or teams, even her obsession with fucking hot sauce.

you knew she still slept with her childhood blankie, the one currently curled under her chin atop the hotel comforter because she’s ridiculous, and because nobody has ever and would ever disrespect her blankie game.

and above all, you knew how much she wasn’t a morning person.

“you’re so dramatic,” you snort, pushing yourself up onto your elbows with a tired, but mocking voice as she emits a slow groan, turning to shove her face into the pillow, her body curling away from yours in an act of indignance that only makes you laugh.

you were far too used to her acting like a baby, so the action only made you sit up on your knees, slinging a leg over her so you could straddle her sides, leaning down to pepper kisses against the side of her face as she lets out a string of groans that turn into halfhearted chuckles, until her hands are planted firmly against your thighs, bare due to the oversized IOWA shirt that she insisted on you wearing.

‘for good luck,’ you remembered her snickering, something you knew was really just ‘easy access’.

her voice is still hoarse from sleep, quiet and raspy and tinged with that midwestern accent that you’ll never give up on bullying her for, when she whispers, “dude, you’re so annoying.”

of course, she proves it by hoisting you off of her, onto the bed, simulating something like a WWE smackdown moment as she rolls over onto you, mumbling something that you really can’t decipher due to her face in your neck, your chest, basically every place she knows will pull that hysterical, annoyingly high pitched laugh out of you, that for some reason, she loves.

“can’t believe you made it here.” she murmurs quietly against your cheek, lips moving lazily against the skin before she lays a smacking kiss there, and it’s almost gross, how much saliva she uses, but you snicker anyway, hand coming up to stroke through her blonde strands.

in all honesty, you couldn’t really believe it either. it had been soemthing close to hell trying to get it all straightened out, from clothes to hotels, to transportation and getting from des moines to brooklyn, not to mention just how fucking exclusive it had been to even get a seat open with all the hype surrounding women’s college basketball, the posterity that the final four teams had brought to the sport— not to mention, the fact that you and kate weren’t public in the fucking slightest, so having to account for that definitely sucked.

of course, it was a huge accomplishment, one that would definitely go down in the history of sports in general, so of course it was a huge fucking honor that your girlfriend was apart of it—

but also, you just thought it was hot.

in fact, the thought makes you smirk to yourself, corners of your mouth curling upwards in a self righteous grin as you turned your head, bumping noses with her to whisper, “can’t wait to see you all dressed up, baby,” she snickers at that, and you kiss her lips once, twice, three times before continuing, “and, i can’t wait to see where you get drafted so i can buy myself a plane ticket.”

the subsequent groan you receive is expected, but it doesn’t deter you even slightly, “and to watch you play on a professional fucking team, like, kate, i’m basically wet thinking about it right now.”

that makes her laugh out loud, and it warms you just a bit to hear it.

it’s not like kate has been super confident about it recently, usually choosing to not speak or avoid talking about how bad she wants it— especially considering the night being mainly for caitlin, an old teammate of yours from school and one of kate’s best friends on the squad, and arguably, one of the best players in the league (next to kate, of course).

still, it didn’t change your focus, or the unyielding hope you had for the possibility of kate getting drafted— no matter how late in the draft it could be.

“babe, quit selling yourself short, okay? you’re a legend. it would be literally, fucking stupid to pass you up, okay?” she doesn’t respond at first, her eyes closed and lashes brushing her cheeks, before she flutters them open just a crack, blue peeking through as you offer her a grin, one that she only rolls her eyes to, but kisses you regardless. you knew how much she hated to talk about it, but it didn’t matter.

you knew you were right, anyway.

“mmmiloveyou.” it comes out in one smushed whisper against your mouth, before you nip at her bottom lip, hand sneaking under the sports bra she wore to bed to brush your thumb across her ribcage, “get off of me and get ready, okay?”

—

caitlin was top draft pick, which was heavily speculated and yet still unexpected to a degree as you stood from your seat with a cacophony of shouts and hollers from around you, pride swelling thick in your chest. you’d known the girl since you two had been in middle school— seeing the same tall little girl that had hated losing in an elementary school gym turn into such an infamous champion was something alike to a parent watching their kid go off to college or something, you’d swear it.

but, to say it was nothing short of nervewracking would somehow be an understatement, and as much as you felt the impending pressure with each name called, you could only imagine how kate must’ve felt.

it wasn’t hard to tell— the way her molars steadily worked the inside of her cheek, the way her tongue would dart out to wet her lips again and again. her hand, jittering too much to be held stationary within your own, drumming along your bare thigh beside your dress— ‘self soothing’, she’d explained in a whisper, a halfhearted, almost weakened smile on her face when you’d given her a lifted eyebrow at the hand placement considering the amount of cameras that surrounded you, but somehow, despite the rush of adrenaline, decided you didn’t care either.

thankfully, you both weren’t anywhere too accessible, but it still made you wonder whether kate had been bullshitting just how anxious she actually had been the whole time for her to need your touch so badly, and for an aching moment of tenderness as you glance at her, you want to kiss her, hard, rub the tension between her eyebrows, relax the trouble in her eyes.

still, gabbie and jada were good eyes too, considering anytime the camera would so much as even pan past you two, jada would hit you with a solid elbow, one to remind you that your poker face was shit, and perhaps you’d have to try just a little harder to pretend you weren’t totally, irrevocably in love with the woman beside you.

but slowly, it was all starting to click into place.

the cameras began panning to kate more and more, your own eyes flickering to the set and noticing how everytime you’d look, there’d be an official looking right past you, right at kate. a surge of excitement rose within you, one that had the words bubbling from your mouth in an urgent whisper,

“baby, i think—“

until an official, dressed in black with a wireless pair of headphones in each ear and a smile, touched kate’s shoulder.

“ms. martin, we’re gonna go ahead and have you and your party move down the aisle just a bit— there’s been a slight seating issue, if that’s okay with you guys?”

jada elbows you extra hard this time, and for some reason it solidifies that feeling you get, one that makes your heart leap as you all nod, getting to your feet without argument, only as kate turns to give you a look that’s supposed to be scolding, but fuck, you can see the glimmer of hope in it that makes your chest constrict, your eyes burn in pride.

“you’re giving me eyes, and for what?” she hums, the teeth against her cheek working overtime as you all settle into the new seats, kate at the end of the aisle, and a fluttery feeling in your chest, “no reason.” you say it almost smugly, as if you know something she doesn’t, and you don’t, but god, you can feel it.

the names fly off, left and right, number 16, and kate’s knee starts bouncing slightly, number 17 and your heart feels like it’s going way too fucking fast, number 18, and jada peers around you to glance at kate, and then…

las vegas, aces— kate martin.

if watching caitlin win had felt like a parent watching their child, this must’ve been adjacent to winning the fucking lottery.

you’re on your feet in mere seconds, the tears that had built finally dripping down your cheeks, a fact you’d only come to find embarrassing once you realize how visible they are on the playback, but fuck it, your girl was going pro.

she wastes no time in wrapping you up, her face ducking into your shoulder as your arms twine around her middle, thinking subconsciously of how you know you shouldn’t risk it, but kate doesn’t seem to mind, only releasing you with a single arm to embrace jada, and then gabbie, before she’s back to you.

of course, it doesn’t occur to you in the moment, that it’s a hard launch— no, it doesn’t really sink in until she kisses you hard against the temple before she’s breezing down the aisle, the subsequent eruption in applause leaving you starstruck, in silent awe.

after that, it’s somewhat of a blur— she takes her picture and accepts her jersey, the newscasters going off on some spiel about your girlfriends work ethic, her attitude, her endurance, everything you already fucking knew, had known for so long, that she’d finally have a chance to prove.

the moment she’s back beside you, it also doesn’t register to you that she must’ve been just as accepting about the reveal, because it’s only a second that she’s in her seat before she plants a soft kiss to your mouth, the dark lipstick you’d been steadily biting off in anxiety sticking to hers and she’s grinning, bigger than she had all day, and for a moment, you think you might actually collapse because god,

you love her. so fucking much.

“told you so,” you make out between the tears, smiling through the tightness in your voice that makes you sound warbled, whimpering even as she just laughs at you, her thumb careful to wipe beneath your eyes, “guess you did.”

of course, it’s only customary that after such a good night, everyone must get fucked up— so, that’s exactly what happens.

you get to gush to caitlin— hugging her tight around the neck and congratulating her a million times, to which she reciprocates when it comes to you and kate, garnering a blush on your already alcohol flushed cheeks, rolling your eyes as you punch her arm.

“whatever, fever.”

“whatever, ‘ace’.”

you pretend you don’t notice the quotations she puts around it, and give her a friendly middle finger instead— if kate was an ace, that meant you basically were too, at least by proxy.

“hey money,” you call to kate affectionately, seeing only the back of her head as she talks to gabbie, your arms sliding around her waist to hold her tight from behind.

“my love,” she greets with a smile, looking over her shoulder to pucker her lips at you, expecting a kiss that you so easily return. it feels fucking terrifying, in all honesty, to be so open, but you can’t find it within you to care enough to give it up— not when she’s this happy.

“dude, you totally knew, didn’t you? there’s no way you would’ve started crying like that unless you knew.” she’s drunk, chattering at a volume level beyond what’s needed considering you were right behind her, hand sneaking beneath her blazer, but you can’t help the way you shrug, “i’m always right, huh?”

later that night, she shows you just how right you are.

it’s past a decent hour to still be tugging off clothes from the night prior— the clock read four in the morning, but the windows spoke of the twinkling lights that surrounded, the city not quite awake, but never asleep.

“you’re a pro,” you hum against her mouth as you tug off her blazer, hands making quick work of the belt that kept you from exploring, smirking at the look she gives you, daring and all too fucking sexy, “it’s so hot to think about.”

“yeah?” her fingers hook beneath the straps of the dress until she’s dragging them down your shoulders, “you want me to show you how professionals do it?”

the next thing you know she’s between your legs, nothing but a white top and her slacks on, unbuttoned, as she hikes a leg over her shoulder, kisses along the inside of your thigh with an intensity only comparable to how she is after a really good game.

“fuck—!” it leaves your mouth in a sound that’s almost unrecognizable, the realization that you’d been pleasantly and uncomfortably horny ever since the draft had ended making itself known considering just how much kate had been unrelenting during press— hands on your hips or on the inside of your thigh, toying with the hair on the back of your neck or grasping the inside of your elbow to lead you along.

she knew it drove you crazy, you knew she’d make it up to you later.

her mouth makes easy work on you, tongue long and flat as she laps against your cunt, rough in all the ways that she knew you could handle— thumbs pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin, breath hot and heavy against your clit, hips moving on their own accord as you gasp out a string of incoherent whimpers. “shit, baby- just… just like that.”

it wasn’t like kate had ever failed at getting you off, but tonight, she performed as if it was her last game, greedy almost as she drinks you in, making sure to not leave one bit of you unchecked. her tongue is almost sinful in the way it makes your voice careen, high and whining, your hand finding a permanent tangle into her already mussed hair.

but she’s cocky tonight, presumptuous right before you orgasm as she raises her head to kiss your thigh, biting the skin before she’s climbing onto the bed beside you, too tall to be graceful, but you’re too fucking horny to even spare her the laughs you usually give.

“up, c’mere.” she’s breathless still, but she doesn’t let you rest for even a second, leaning across you to curl her fingers around your thigh to tug you up from your laying position, rousing you from the hazy, almost delirious state of mind as you push yourself up, letting out a shaking breath when she’s sliding your leg over her chest, hands grazing up the back of your thighs until she’s pulling you, right over over her mouth.

“kate, wha- you’re so— fuck.”

any semblance of words or sense seem to leave you in one second, as she flattens her tongue against the wetness that’s collected, the friction almost unbearable when her head tilted upwards, nose brushing hard against your clit in a way that pulls a cry from your lips. she’s unfaltering, diligent, unabashed in the way she’s moving your hips, the way she pairs each grind against her nose with a curl of her tongue, and really, it’s over before it fucking starts.

her mouth is glossy, damp when she’s done, and she smiles and it’s arrogant as she’s sliding you back down to sit you against her hips, the mere control she had of your body making you bright red as you pant pathetically, reduced to fucking nothing by her mouth.

it makes you throw your head back with a whimpering sigh, “don’t fucking look at me like that.” you complain, legs still open, thighs still trembling as she races her hands along them, “tired already?”

funnily enough, you were far from fucking tired.

“actually… was thinking about showing you some celebrity treatment?” you muse softly, as she peels off her own top, eyebrows raising, her thumb swiping along the edge of her lip before she’s placing it on the bottom of yours, pressing until it dips into your mouth, the heady taste of what you knew was yourself finding a place on your tongue.

she smirks, tongue poking between her teeth as your stomach fucking turns almost, arousal prickling unforgivingly at you once again.

“ooh,” she muses under her breath, eyes laser focused on the thumb she’d placed between your lips, voice coming out in a whisper, “i like the sound of that.”

she’s smirking though, because sex between you two have never been anything completely serious— that’s just not how kate operates, “ace money martin’s got a ring to it, huh?”

“shut up.”

“make me.”

so, you do.

#kate martin x reader #kate martin smut #kate martin #writing asf #be gentle i lowk like this one…..

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