#i sometimes do it after everything else is finished so i guess it counts as rendering

[flickering-chandelier]

It’s Cool, We’re Just Friends

Pairing: Azriel x BestFriend! Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been besties for years, until one night has them crossing into uncharted territory.

Warning: Steamy at the end whoops

Word Count: 2.8k

The rooftop garden at Rhysand’s townhouse was one of your favorite places in the world. It was one of the only places that you could often have to yourself when you needed some time for quiet reflection. You loved to lounge up there, especially at night when you could watch the City of Starlight come to life before your very eyes.

The only thing better than having the rooftop all to yourself was sharing it with your best friend, Azriel.

You smiled as he appeared, smoothly landing a few feet from you, his eyes sparkling, his shadows vanishing as he smiled at you.

He dragged the empty iron chair closer to you and settled in, stretching his wings out behind him, placing his hands behind his head, leaning back casually. He only sat this way when it was just the two of you, when he didn’t have to keep up appearances as the Night Court’s spymaster and shadowsinger.

“What did you do today?” he asked, looking out at the light and life of the city.

“Trained with Cassian. Hated my life,” you said, shifting in the iron chair to ease some of the soreness in your back.

Azriel laughed quietly, his eyes flicking to you as you tried to get comfortable. “Cassian always has that effect on me, too.”

You scoffed, lightly swatting at his bare bicep. “Don’t be mean. You love your brother.”

He sighed, smiling lightly at you. “Then what?”

“Mmmm,” you pondered, running through your day in your mind. “Oh! I finished my book!”

“The one about the forbidden love?” He lifted his eyebrow.

“Yes!” you squealed, excitedly. “It was so good.”

“Let me guess,” he said, his voice teasing in that way that he saved just for you. “They finally got together and lived happily ever after?”

“Yes! How did you know?” You teased.

He shook his head, smiling. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” you said, studying him. He was the only person you had ever met who actually wanted to know the answer when they asked you how your day was. “What did you do today?”

Azriel shrugged, looking out at the city again, the flickering lights below reflecting in his eyes. “Not much.”

“Are you kidding me?” You leaned forward in your seat, gawking at him, and he laughed. “I tell you everything about my boring day, and that’s your answer?”

His smile faded though as he leveled a gaze at you, his eyes sweeping over your face. “I wanted to spare you the details.”

Your blood turned cold at his serious expression. Azriel and you had been best friends for years, ever since you had fled your home in the Autumn Court. From your old home, you had gone north, nearly freezing to death in the Winter Court before the shadowsinger found you and gave you refuge in Velaris. The two of you were kindred spirits, hitting it off instantly. His brothers and his other friends had eventually told you that he immediately relaxed in your presence, even from the beginning, and that he had never seemed so comfortable with someone so quickly. You were honored to be his friend, thanked the stars every night that he had found you and saved your life.

He had been fiercely protective of you from the beginning, wanting to shield you from the realities of what his life was like outside of Velaris. You hated to admit it, but you did get squeamish thinking about what you knew Azriel sometimes had to do -- the torture, the blood, the screams. The thought of him sneaking around in dangerous territories, watching enemies, gathering intel on the in’s and out’s of their lives… it made you more worried than you could express.

But, you also hated not knowing what he was doing, if he was safe. It took months, but you eventually convinced him that you could handle at least the vaguest details of the missions he went on. You knew that he would never be willing to tell you the whole truth, knew that he didn’t want you to think of him that way -- the ruthless, unyielding shadowsinger.

“Oh,” you said finally. “Are you okay?”

Still, he would usually tell you something. So, if he was unwilling to tell you what he had been doing today… it must have been something very dangerous indeed.

His eyes softened as he gazed at you. “I am now.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet Illyrian before you. “You can talk about it, you know. If you have to. I’m here for you,” you reached across the space between you, gently taking his hand.

Azriel’s gaze landed on your hand clasped with his, his expression softening to barely detectable sadness that made you heart hurt. “I know you are,” he said softly.

You studied him for a moment, eyes trailing over that beautiful face that you had memorized. He was in his fighting leathers, tattoos peeking out from under his collar, trailing down his bare arms, his strong biceps that were the size of your head, his massive wings stretched out behind him.

And his rough, scarred hand gently holding yours.

You tugged on his hand gently, so his eyes met yours again. “Want to take me for a ride?”

He smirked, an expression that had taken months of friendship to unlock. “You sure you want to?”

“You seem like you could use a distraction,” you murmured.

Azriel held your gaze for a beat longer before he stood up and scooped you into his arms, only pausing for a moment to smile at you before he shot up into the sky.

Flying with your Illyrian friends had taken a long time for you to get remotely used to, and even now it sometimes made your stomach churn. But you knew it helped clear Azriel’s mind, and you liked the time you got to spend with him in the air, just the two of you.

He held you close against him, his arms wrapped behind your back and under your knees. You rested a hand on his chest, reveling in your opportunity to study him while his eyes were trained on his surroundings. No matter how much time you spent with your friend, his beauty never ceased to amaze you.

You could feel the tension in his body slowly loosen as he flew above his city, a light breeze gracing against your skin, running through your hair through the shields that he put up around the two of you.

Dipping his head, bringing his mouth to your ear, he murmured, “Thank you.”

You curled into him, resting your head on his chest. He tightened his grip on you slightly.

Sometime later, he landed back on the roof, setting you carefully on the ground. Despite his gentle touch, you winced quietly as the muscles in your back ached from your training this morning.

Azriel’s brow furrowed, his hands freezing at your waist, his fingers flexing against your body. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, smiling sweetly up at him.

He arched a brow, not believing it for a second.

“It’s nothing!”

He simply waited, knowing full well that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for long.

“Okay, fine,” you groaned. “My back hurts. A lot.”

His eyes swam with worry, before narrowing in accusation. “You haven’t been doing the stretches you’re supposed to be doing, have you?”

“Well…” you said, your voice rising a few octaves. “Not all of them.”

He growled your name, his frustration evident. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “They didn’t seem that important at the time.”

“What are you doing?” you squealed, trying and failing not to stare at your best friend’s glorious ass, which was now far too close to your face.

Groaning, he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, heading for the stairs of the townhouse. You shrieked. In all of your years together, he had never done this.

“I’m going to help you solve the problem that you created, because you’re my best friend, and because you clearly aren’t capable of taking care of yourself,” he said, as he stomped unceremoniously down the stairs.

Scoffing, you said, “Is this really a necessary part of it?”

“Yes,” he countered, clearly amused.

You huffed, staying silent as he walked through the mercifully empty halls to your bedroom. He opened the door with his free hand, kicking it shut behind him, before tossing you onto the bed.

“Oww,” you groaned as your back hit the mattress.

The tough guy act faded as soon as you were in pain. His eyes softened. “Sorry.”

“I thought you said you were going to help me,” you grumbled.

“I am,” he said, stalking towards you, his eyes alight. “Lay on your stomach.”

You quirked a brow at him in question, but when he just silently held your gaze, you sighed and did as you were told.

Suddenly, you were very aware of how thin the material of your dress was, how the hem landed just above your knees. You were thankful that he couldn’t see the heat in your cheeks.

The mattress shifted beneath you as he climbed onto the bed. “What are you--”

“Shh.”

Your skin prickled as he settled his calves snug against your hips, straddling you. He remained hovering over your body on his knees. You weren’t sure you were breathing.

“Okay, what are you --”

The air was sucked out of your lungs as his hands found their way to your shoulders, kneading your back with his rough fingers, digging deep into you, working out all the tension that had been building in your muscles for who knows how long.

You weren’t sure if it felt good or if it hurt… both. Definitely both.

He remained silent as he worked out the knots in your back, gradually moving lower and lower, kneading and rubbing.

The lower his hands moved, the more you had to focus not to squirm. You felt the heat of his body, and the things his hands were doing… you couldn't help but imagine what those hands could do in other places.

It’s not like you had never thought about it before. You had always been just friends, but you weren’t blind. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. And he was always so sweet and kind and protective…

You couldn’t stop the moan that came out of your mouth.

His hands stilled for the slightest moment before he continued kneading your muscles. “You doing okay?” He asked, his voice thick. It made heat spread between your legs. The legs that he was currently holding down with his body.

“Mmhmm,” was all you could manage.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when he finally lifted his hands from your back. “Is that better?” he asked softly, not moving from his position over you.

You twisted around a bit, testing movements that had made you wince before. After a moment you turned to lay on your back, your body touching his in so many places as you did so. “You’re a miracle worker,” you said, your voice coming out raspy.

He continued to hover over you, his expression unreadable. He leaned closer, bracing his forearms on either side of you, his chest pressing against yours, his face only inches away.

“Az,” you breathed, unable to look away from the heat in his eyes.

His eyes sparked and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, twining a hand in your hair as the other gripped your waist.

Your body responded to his immediately, your hands cupping his cheek, wrapping around the back of his neck.

The kiss started out slow. Azriel was taking his time, and when you opened your mouth for him, his tongue slid in gently, exploring your mouth with such tenderness that you wanted to weep.

You gasped as he pulled away to leave a line of sensual kisses down your neck, his hands running over your stomach, your thighs.. “We should’ve been doing this the whole time,” you moaned, breathless.

He laughed into your skin, and you felt the vibration go through your whole body. You squeezed your thighs together and he groaned, nipping lightly at your shoulder.

“Yes, we should have,” he said, kissing his way up your neck. “We’re idiots,” he laughed before taking your mouth with his again, kissing you deeply.

“So stupid,” you said against his mouth and the shoulders you were clutching shook with laughter.

Azriel continued to kiss you slowly, his rough hand drifting underneath your dress, up your thighs…

“Is this okay?” he pulled his mouth back an inch, his eyes studying your face, his body attuned to your every reaction.

“Az, you’re my very favorite person. I trust you with my life. You can do whatever you want to me,” you said, your voice teasing despite how breathless he was making you.

His eyes sparked, his expression one of affection and disbelief before he smirked, his hand trailing up further. “Whatever I want, hmm?” he murmured, his eyes trained on yours.

You could only stare as his hand stilled, a fraction away from where you really wanted him.

“And what do you want, my dear friend?” he said, his voice velvety in a way you’d never heard before.

“Please,” was all you could manage.

He grinned, waiting a beat before he moved your underwear to the side, sliding a finger into your center.

The moan that you let out nearly rattled the walls.

His gaze was trained on you, watching how your body reacted to every move he made. Eventually you tugged his clothes off and he did the same to you, until you were moving together, skin to skin. He moaned your name as he slid into you, setting your body on fire.

He pressed his forehead to yours as he moved inside you, one of his hands holding yours, clutched next to your head, as he kissed your lips gently. He gazed at you when he pulled back, his every movement swimming with affection. “You’re my favorite person,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re the hottest man in the world,” you said just as quietly, your fingers scratching down his back, his wings rippling behind him.

The laugh that rumbled through him made your head spin, and his hips move faster. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he countered, smiling lovingly down at you.

“I was staring at your ass when you slung me over your shoulder,” you admitted.

“I stare at your ass whenever you leave the room,” he grinned, bending down to nip playfully at your neck, his hips not breaking his steady rhythm.

You gasped, swatting his arm. “You do not!”

“I do,” he laughed, kissing your neck.

“I thought you were a gentleman!” you said mockingly.

He looked at you pointedly, slamming his hips into yours more forcefully. The sound that escaped from your throat was filthy.

“I guess you’re learning a lot about me tonight,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

You rolled your eyes playfully before wrapping a hand around the back of his head, twisting your fingers through his hair as you brought his mouth down to yours.

You didn’t speak again until some time later, when he was holding you close, your legs entwined, your head resting on his bare chest, his wings enveloping you in their warmth.

Idly, you drew shapes and patterns onto his skin with your fingertip. He shivered. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on your finger, moving to trace over his tattoos, too afraid to look at his expression.

His arms tightened around you and he kissed the top of your head. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”

Your gaze flicked to him, your eyes wide. He smiled softly down at you. “You have?"

He kissed you gently in response. “How could I not be?” he whispered.

Your bottom lip trembled and he ran his thumb across it. “Don’t cry,” he murmured.

That made you cry. He laughed, his wings wrapping tighter around the two of you, shielding you from the world.

“Such a softie,” he teased, lifting your chin to press a sweet kiss to your mouth.

You grumbled adamantly, burying your face in his chest.

The two of you laid in companionable silence for a while before he broke it. “You’re going to do your stretches from now on, right?”

“If this is the treatment I get when I don’t do them? Absolutely not,” you grinned.

#acotar #acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel one shot #azriel x reader #azriel x you

[cherryredstars]

heyy you said you had made a part 1.5 of job benefits I was wondering if you could post it?

Pairing: Perverted Miguel (xfem!reader)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Reader is only mentioned, Panty Fucking, Male Masturbation, Perverted Thoughts

Summary: Sometime between the events of In The Job Description and Job Benefits

A/N: Guess who’s back! Hint: It's not Slim Shady

Word Count: 1.5K (Barely Edited)

Reverse AU Part 1

It was extremely unprofessional. 

Borderline pathetic in all of its honesty. He felt like a little school boy, drooling over the sight of his teacher’s breasts when she leaned over to help. But fuck where you one fucking distraction. He had to stop himself from drooling whenever you walked back into his office after he fucked you over his desk, using a binder or stack of papers to hide your overly exposed chest after the finicky buttons of your blouse failed to do their job. He could fuck his fist to the sight of your shy doe eyes, darting around the room in an attempt to not look at him. It took everything in him to not skip out on his next meeting in favor of pounding that pretty pussy until it match the flush of your face. 

But this will have to do. It has to or else he’ll go absolutely mad. A strong hiss escapes his lips, getting lost by the sound of your voice echoing from his car speakers. His phone was connected to the bluetooth function of his car, a voicemail you’ve left him a few weeks ago on a loop. He’s never been more grateful for tinted windows, hiding the view of his head thrown back against his headrest with your panties pressed tightly to his nose. He had been fingering with the material in his suit pocket all day, a cocky smirk on his face as he traced the lace trimmings on the waistband. During his boring ass meeting, he eyed you taking notes besides him, fingers caressing the tacky liquid on the crotch of your panties while replaying the feeling of your cunt around his cock not even thirty minutes ago. He applauded himself for his self control, slightly surprised he was able to be so composed knowing you were sitting right there without any panties on, ready for the taking. 

His mind ran crazy with the things he would do with his prize in his alone time. The things he would want you to do after he finished with it. In the boredom of his office, he thought about the way he would fuck into them. Imagining how it would feel to have the head of his cock rub against the area your sweet cunt had been. Could already feel the material wrapped around his cock as he jerked off, his hand keeping it flush to his skin. Wondered how many times he’d have to cum on them until it smelled of him instead of you. Wondered if he could convince you to wear them while they were still sticky with his release, the thought of his cum rubbing and sticking to your pussy lips as you squirmed from the uncomfortable wetness was enough for him to cum in his briefs. 

The more he thought about it, the more his cock would throb and weep. It built up to the point that he couldn’t wait until he went to his penthouse. He dreaded the short drive, having to wait for the slow ass elevator to come to the lobby and then back up to the penthouse on the top floor, impatient with the few seconds it would take him to unlock his front door and lock it behind him, the thought of waiting until he got to his bed was laughable. So the second you went home and he finished the last of his work, he got to his car as fast as he could. He instantly pulled the panties out of his pocket the second the door closed, locking it with a single button. His eyes had instantly closed when he pressed them to his face and took a deep breath. The tangy scent of your left over arousal caused him to groan, his hand blindly fishing for his phone and opening up his audio files. 

He clicked the single file, your breathy voice filling the car. He had saved it because of the airiness of your voice. He had instantly got hard when he first heard it, shocked when he opened it and was greeted with a breathy whimper of his name. You had made the call after your car broke down and you had to walk the remaining two miles to work. You had struggled going up the slanted walk in your heels, resulting in the most blessed audio. His cock swells more and he throws his phone to the passenger seat. His hand goes to his pants, unbuttoning them before he lifts his hips and pulls them down just low enough to reveal his cock. A pained noise leaves him at the sight of it, his tip red and pulsing. Glossy precum dribbles from his slit, forcing some of it to drip down. He wishes he wasn’t so impatient in his office, maybe then he could of taken the time to fuck into your mouth. Maybe force you to stay quiet all day, his cum pooling on your tongue for hours before he gives you permission to swallow it. 

His hand instantly massages the liquid into his skin, thin trails sticking to his skin when he pulls his hand away. His eyes are hazy when he wraps his hand around himself, giving it a lazy tug. If he squeezes his hand tight enough, breathes deeply into your pretty little panties, and focuses on the sound of your voice, he can pretend you’re actually here with him. He can pretend that he’s in the backseat with you, fucking into you as your nails dig into his leather seats. Or, maybe he’d let you ride him in the very spot he is right now, pulling your hair back as he marks your neck. The mental image makes him moan, his hand speeding up around his cock. 

“Ahh, fuck. Siéntete tan jodidamente bien por mí, nena.” Miguel mumbles, mind getting hazy as he closes his eyes. The image is so vivid in his mind, can practically taste the scent of leather and cum in the air as he watches himself slide into you. 

The audio recording morphs into the pretty moans you gave him today, his pants merging with your winded voice. His hand tightens around himself until it's practically painful, but still not matching the delicious warmth of your cunt. His hand speeds up to the pace he imagines you’d ride him to, occasionally tightening to simulate the fluttering of your walls. It drives him wild, practically suffocating himself with your panties while he mumbles praises in the material. He pretends his precum flowing from his tip is your arousal, his cock getting more and more drenched as he slides in and out of you. He doesn’t stop the bucking of his hips, fucking into his hand and hissing out your name. He can feel his orgasm building up, the muscles of his lower stomach tensing as his hand moves rapidly, desperately.

“Tómalo, tómalo todo como una buena chica.” He cries out, pulling the panties away from his face and wrapping them around his cock. 

He works them harshly, his hips arching into the material as he whimpers out. His mouth hangs open as he looks down at his cock, giving it the last few jerks before he covers his tip entirely with your panties, spilling hot seed into them. He can’t stop his hips from bucking weakly, fucking your panties to ride out his release. He lets out small whines, cursing and mumbling your name as the euphoria dies away. The panties grow warm and sticky, and he slowly pulls them away. He groans as the material remains connected to his tip, strings of cum spreading thin until they snap away. His chest rises and falls as he tries to calm down, throwing the panties to the passenger seat and grabbing his phone. 

The sound of your voice stops abruptly, and Miguel curses as he drops the phone to his lap and rubs his hands harshly against his face and into his hair. A frustration builds in his chest, dissatisfaction growing in his stomach. Despite his intense orgasm, he still craves more. His skin practically itching to hunt you down and fuck you again. He lets out an annoyed huff, fixing himself before he starts the car and make his pitiful way home where he’ll desperately fuck your panties again. His scowl remains on his face as he pulls out of the company parking lot, driving down the road until a store on his right side catches his eye.  

He quickly double takes, his head looking back quickly before the scowl melts away. He quickly signals into a parallel parking space, turning off the engine as he grabs the sticky panties. He finds what he’s looking for, squinting his eyes to read the small text printed under the waistband. With his mood improving by the second, Miguel gets out of his car, subtly checking his pocket for his wallet as he walks towards the lingerie store. 

Well look at that, he thinks gleefully, there’s a shoe store next door, too.

Part 2

Join the Taglist!

#cherry's requests🍒 #company matters series💎 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse

[writethrough]

Bad Boy Type

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: Girls' night at Billy and Max's new place takes a turn when El insists on you marrying Billy.

Warnings: Mentions of Neil, extreme fluff, mutual pining (because I'm a whore for that shit), language

Word Count: 4056

A/N: This might be the fluffiest thing I've written. It's also the longest. And yes, I still have requests to finish. But life really said, "It's Billy's time," and I'm not mad about it.

You were fiercely protective over Max and El since you met. They became the younger sisters you never had. You’d do anything for them. And you always made sure to plan something with them as often as possible.

Today, you three were holed up at Max and Billy’s new place. It wasn’t much. It was a steal since it’d been so run down no one else wanted it. You and the rest of your group helped fix up what you could. After everything you’d all been through, it created an untouchable bond. And everyone was eager to help in whatever way they could, especially once Max confided in you about Billy’s father. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Neil was a shitty person. He gave off enough hostility to power a freight train. A few months after renovating, the house was finally livable. And between your car and Billy’s, they moved within the hour.

All three of you were on the floor around the coffee table, snacking on candy and discussing very important business.

“Okay, okay,” Max said, trying to rein in her laughter. “El, kiss, marry, kill…The Outsiders.”

You grinned and leaned closer as El looked down in thought.

“Kiss Sodapop, marry Johnny, and…I don’t want to kill anyone,” she said timidly.

And because it was El, you and Max accepted that.

You faced Max. “I’m guessing yours would be the same?”

“I’m killing Steve,” she added, and you snickered. “What about you?”

You hummed, running through the characters before picking three.

“Kill Two-Bit, kiss Darry, marry Dally,” you said with a nod.

“Dally’s an asshole!” Max groaned, slapping her thighs.

“But he’s hot,” you countered.

“But he’s an asshole,” she repeated, giving you a look.

“But he’s hot.”

After a few seconds, you all started giggling. You really loved spending time with these two.

El grew quiet, deep in thought, and she made you and Max stop laughing with her question.

“What about Billy?”

Your brow furrowed. “Billy?”

She nodded. “Would you marry him?”

Your face grew warm. Did El think because you liked the bad boy character in a film, you liked one in reality?

Billy had never been outright rude to you—his attitude rubbed you the wrong way—cocky and smug like he knew he could get away with almost anything. It wasn’t until after the Mind Flayer that you befriended him.

You’d describe your friendship as…quiet. You didn’t hang out together—only in a group with everyone or Steve and the other adults. Usually, though, you saw him most when you, Max, and El hung out.

You were the girls’ friend first and foremost. When you started picking Max up when they lived with their parents, he always scowled at you through the door as she raced to your car. Later, you thought it had something to do with Neil’s reactions to his stepdaughter not being home even though he knew where Max was. You had enough knocks on the door from Billy to put two and two together.

Now, Billy was relaxed when you picked her up or stayed over. You sometimes wondered if he was glad Max had you to rely on now that it was just him and his stepsister. If she ever needed anything, he could count on you to lend him a hand.

So while he wasn’t the same rage-filled boy you knew in high school, his reputation still preceded him. Though now you knew him in a different light—provider, protector, and maybe that was why you started to like him.

You shook your head to rid yourself of that thought.

“I…Well, I…I don’t…” Jesus Christ! How were you supposed to answer this without giving yourself away?

Just then, a car door slammed. Billy’s home.

He threw his jacket on the hook and his keys on the table and stopped when he noticed you, Max, and El.

His eyes seemed to linger on you before addressing everyone.

“Hey,” he said, mentally kicking himself. Couldn’t he think of anything better to say? Maybe “you look nice,” not “hey.”

“How was work,” you asked, still trying to shake off El’s question and the fact that he walked in as if summoned.

“Fine. Didn’t know you’d be over.” He would've cleaned up and made it look nice. Maybe then he could cook you dinner.

He had to stop from asking if this little get-together was overnight. He sure hoped so.

“I dragged her out of her house for girls' day. They’re sleeping over, too,” Max said. Maybe she could read his mind—maybe that was why most of your time was spent at Billy’s place and not yours—because Max knew he needed an excuse to talk to you since the Mind Flayer.

He nodded slowly and gestured toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Order pizza or I can make spaghetti?” he asked.

You tilted your head at his words. Billy cooked?

It made sense. You’re sure he’s had to fend for himself most of his life. You just never thought about him in the kitchen.

Before you could say anything, El said, “I like spaghetti.” And that seemed to settle it.

When Billy left, Max leaned forward. “Don’t worry, he’s actually a really good cook.”

And to play off your daydreams of Billy cooking you breakfast, you said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

—

When Billy emerged from the steamy bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, you were both relieved and disappointed your back faced him.

The girls were telling you their boyfriend troubles, and it took everything in you not to imagine the remaining water tracing Billy’s toned stomach.

“Sometimes I think you have the right idea,” Max said, flopping back in the chair.

You blinked, coming back to reality. “Me? What idea is that?”

“Being single.” She shrugged. “Boys are a pain in the ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “While that is true, sometimes I think it’d be nice to have my person, you know?”

“Your person?” El asked, furrowing her brow.

“Someone who’s always there for you, no matter what. They accept every part of you, good and bad.” You sighed. “They're the person you want to be around the most.”

She looked at you seriously. “We are your person.”

It nearly brought tears to your eyes. One of the many reasons you loved El was her heart.

“C’mere,” you whispered, holding open your arms.

She scootched toward you and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“You too.” You motioned Max over.

That’s how Billy found you three, hugging each other on the couch like you were trying to absorb into one being.

“Am I interrupting some girl thing?” he asked, opening the cabinet.

You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “No, you’re fine.” You looked over the back of the couch. “Anything I can help with?”

He gave you a flirty smile. “Don’t worry. I got it.”

It didn’t take long for him to announce it was ready, and you all grabbed your plates and huddled around the coffee table again. A little thrill went through you when Billy sat beside you, taking your dish from you and setting it down so you could lower yourself.

It was quiet for a few minutes as you all took your first bites. It was only pasta and marinara sauce, but it hit the spot. Maybe it was because Billy made it.

“I’m impressed,” you said, waving your fork around your plate.

“I’m a man of many talents,” Billy mused, warmth blooming in his chest.

“Does this mean you’ll marry Billy?”

You nearly choked on the bite you took. You wished she could read minds so you could scream, “Not the freaking time!”

Billy’s face flushed as he glanced between you two.

“Am I missing something?” He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating. You wanted to marry him? Well, no. It sounded like you didn’t want to marry him. Why didn’t you want to marry him?

“No,” you said quickly. Billy tried to convince himself his chest didn’t constrict at that word. 

“(Y/N) would marry Dally,” El said. “And Dally’s an asshole.”

You put your face in your hands. There was no stopping her.

“And I’ve called you an asshole so many times.” Max provided as an explanation.

Billy could only look at you, and as you curled further in on yourself, he smirked—even though he’d been called an asshole twice—maybe there was something to El’s question.

“Didn’t think you were into that type,” he said, leaning back against the couch.

“I’m not. Not really.” You couldn’t look at him, opting to push the noodles around your plate.

“No? Then what is your type, sweetheart?”

He was teasing you. You could push back with teasing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.” And the way he said it, it took on a seriousness you weren’t prepared for—like he really wanted to know because he cared about the answer. Like it meant something to him.

“I—”

The phone saved you. And Max jumped up.

“It’s probably Lucas,” she said. They’d been having a good week.

You took the opportunity to excuse yourself. “I’m gonna change.”

You grabbed your things and closed the bathroom door.

—

Billy watched as you fled. It was cute how flustered he could make you. And that’s when an idea struck him.

With you and Max busy, he turned to El.

“You think she likes me?” he asked, leaning toward her.

“Do you mean like like?” She stared at him with those big innocent eyes.

He nodded.

“I think so.”

“You think so? She hasn’t said anything to you or Max? Girls talk about that stuff at girls' night, right?” He bit his cheek. Was he reading the signs wrong? Were his feelings clouding his judgment?

Since his recovery, you’ve always been there. You made sure he took care of himself and kept an eye on Max. When he told you about the rundown little place he found, you got Hopper on board to pull a few strings and help remodel. Hell, you got everyone to help.

He still remembered the day you painted the walls, and you and Robin put handprints on each other's chests. He and Steve had said, “What about us,” and you and Robin fitted them with their own set. He still had that shirt.

Even the shit that went down with Steve. You were somehow able to mend things between them. It took a lot of work, and arguments popped up, but with you there, he did it. He didn’t have many friends at Hawkins High—they were a means to an end. However, now? He had ones that would have his back in an apocalyptic world. And it was because of you.

You were his rock, even if you didn’t know it. And he wanted to be that person for you.

“She doesn’t tell us,” El said. “But she looks at you the way Nancy looks at Jonathan.”

He knew the look she was talking about, and he hoped she was right.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You…You like her, right?” she asked tentatively.

He smiled fondly. “More than Eggos.”

El giggled.

He shook his head slightly, smile remaining, mumbling, “Just want her ‘round all the time.”

She beamed, but before she could say another word, you and Max returned.

—

Everyone seemed to forget about the conversation before the phone rang. When you came out of the bathroom, El asked if you could start watching movies, and Max quickly put The Karate Kid in.

What surprised you the most was Billy making popcorn and bringing everyone a soda. You thought he’d retreat to his room like he usually did, but he sat next to you on the couch as the girls spread out on the floor with their own bowl of popcorn.

Halfway through the movie, the sun had set, and the air grew cooler. You rubbed your arm absentmindedly, focused on the screen. You vaguely noticed Billy disappearing somewhere, and when he returned, he held a sweatshirt.

Your heart sped up a little at his offer.

You played it off and raised an eyebrow when he handed it to you.

“You’re cold, right,” he asked, putting it in your lap when you didn’t take it right away.

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I’m just shocked you own a sweatshirt.”

He rolled his eyes but held back a smile. “Very funny.” Then when he was settled. “Indiana’s fucking cold.”

You slipped it over your head, the material warming and engulfing you in his scent. Bunching the sleeves into your fists, you leaned against the cushion and tucked your legs under you.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The movie soon ended, and Max inserted the second film.

Neither you nor Billy spoke after that. It was…nice...being there with him.

Between him and his sweatshirt, you were surrounded by warmth. The noise from the TV lulled into the background, and before you knew it, you were asleep.

Billy noticed almost immediately. He’d been arguing with himself about whether to put an arm around you after he gave you his hoodie.

After the shit he went through, Billy didn’t go after women. He was so in his head about what he’d done—what the monster made him do—he thought everyone was better off if he stayed away. And his body wasn’t the same afterward. Part of him wondered if you’d recoil if he touched you.

And then your head was on his shoulder. Your soft breathing in his ear. And he froze for a second. But then he sunk into you.

If this was the only time you’d be this close to him, he would take it.

He carefully moved his arm to pull you closer, and you shifted in your sleep to snuggle into him. He let his cheek rest against your head for one…two…three…four…five seconds, then lifted back up. He didn’t want Max or El to catch him and ask questions.

It wasn’t long until the movie ended, and the girls were passed out on the floor. And Billy debated staying right where he was, but he knew he shouldn’t.

He did indulge and place a feather-light kiss on the crown of your head before laying you down and pulling a blanket over you. He did the same for El and Max. And once the VHS was safely back in its case, he walked to his room with a final look at you thrown over his shoulder.

—

When the rising sun hit your eyelids, all you wanted was to turn over and go back to sleep. The sizzle of a frying pan and the smell of pancakes made you sit up.

Billy was by the stove, waiting to flip them and keeping a watchful eye on the bacon.

“Smells good,” you whispered, mindful of the two sleeping girls. Billy’s sweatshirt protected you from the morning chill.

He glanced at you and quirked his lips up. “It’s almost ready.”

You gave him a small smile in return, and it took you a moment to realize he had never done this before. Dinner was one thing, but breakfast was entirely different.

“What brought this on?” you asked, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

He shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to impress you again.” He finally turned around to face you and crossed his arms, spatula in hand.

You let out a breathy laugh, looking down before eyeing the cooking pancakes.

“Don’t let them fold in on themselves when you flip them, and you’re golden,” you teased. 

He raised a brow at you, turned around, and seamlessly flipped both over before setting the spatula down and facing you once more.

You held your hands up in surrender. “Consider me impressed.”

“Good.” He pulled a mug out of the cabinet for himself. “You sleep okay?”

You shrugged. “Good enough. Didn’t even realize I fell asleep.”

He would have gladly lent you his bed. He didn’t even need to be in it with you. He would’ve taken the small couch he had crammed in his room.

“Good thing you don’t snore. I think Max would’ve suffocated you,” he said.

You bumped your shoulder with his. “She likes me too much.”

You stared at each other for a moment. Something about Billy in the morning, with the soft light from the sun reflecting in his eyes and shading his hair, was almost breathtaking. He was relaxed, and you hoped it slowly became his new normal.

His eyes trailed down to your lips, and you swore you stopped breathing until you glanced away and saw the pancakes.

“Better watch before they burn,” you said, swallowing to rid yourself of your dry throat.

He had forgotten about them as he took you in. From your pajamas to your still-sleepy gaze and the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—you seemed so…at home here.

He tried to shake that thought as he plated breakfast and set it down at the kitchen table.

You could lean against the counter every morning, sipping coffee as he made you both breakfast. He’d peck your lips each time he passed you for something, and as he waited for things to finish cooking, he would wrap his arms around your shoulders and bury his nose in your hair. Your arms would tighten around his waist, and you’d both stand there, completely content as the warm rays filtered in.

Since last night, since El’s question, a spark had ignited within him. The flicker of…hope, something he hadn’t felt since…since…he didn’t even know when. You didn’t say you wanted him explicitly, but if El saw a connection between him and Dally, then maybe you did too. He couldn’t deny that he’d been a dick in the past. He was still trying to correct those mistakes. But where Dallas Winston had Johnny, Billy had…well…the closest he could think of was you.

And potentially having a life with you? That didn’t sound too bad. Not at all.

You sat across from one another. You could feel Billy’s eyes on you. When you glanced up from your breakfast, he gave you a smirk as if to say, “Impressed?”

You were about to speak, but he beat you to it.

“So, we didn’t finish our discussion last night.”

“Discussion?” You tilted your head.

He nodded and tried to keep his smug smirk at bay. “You into the bad boy type, sweetheart?”

Your eyes widened before you covered your face with your hand. “Didn’t the time for this pass?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “C’mon, tell me, what’s it about him that gets you goin’?”

You shook your head and attempted to suppress your smile. Even though this was embarrassing, you still found Billy cute.

“I’m not doing this with you and that dirty mind of yours. It’s too early. Besides, the girls are still sleeping,” you said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh please, Max used to hear me with girls.” He stated it like a fact, without pride or accomplishment in his voice.

“I know. She’s complained to me multiple times,” you said matter-of-factly.

He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing pink. It surprised you.

He shrugged as if to shake off his actions. “Guess Winston and I are different then.”

“That’s not such a bad thing.” You hoped your smile told him that it really wasn’t a bad thing—that you genuinely liked the person he was growing into—that you cared for him.

“Hope so,” he said softly, taking a bite.

You could’ve stayed there and stared at him for the rest of the day. His eyes were so blue, his hair still a bit messy, and he just looked…he just looked content.

You wanted to reach across the table, grab his hand, hold it between yours and trace each finger. Maybe he’d stop you by pulling your hand to his lips. Maybe, you’d follow with your own.

And as soon as that thought reared its head, Max and El strolled into the kitchen.

“You made pancakes?” Max’s face scrunched up.

“We have guests,” Billy said with a shrug. Like he was concerned with being a good host.

At least for you, he was.

“When has that forced you to do anything?” she asked, stacking her plate.

You locked eyes with Billy from across the table and smiled shyly.

—

“So, you coming here next week?” he asked, putting your bag in the backseat for you.

You shook your head. “It’s at mine next week. Parents are away for a few days. I was thinking of making it an all-weekend thing.”

He slowly nodded, disappointed he wouldn’t see you—only to drop Max off and pick her up.

“Just let me know when I can get the shitbird out of my hair.” It’s all he thought to say to hide his discontentment.

You pursed your lips. It was now or never. “Actually, I was thinking—if you weren’t too busy, maybe you could come over, too? I know it’s technically ‘girls' night,’ but…last night was really nice.”

He tried to keep his face neutral, make it seem like he wasn’t experiencing heart palpitations, but his smile couldn’t stay hidden. It made you immediately relax.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

The way he looked at you sent shivers up your spine and heat through your veins. It was like he couldn’t believe you were real. You’d never seen him have this warmth in his gaze. Like he’d happily follow you anywhere and listen to every word you said.

You returned his smile with a gentle one of your own. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly.

He really was beautiful in the sunlight. His skin full of its own sun. You were so close to each other earlier that you felt it radiating off him. It took everything in you not to rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle in.

He took a step forward, resting a hand on the roof of your car. “You gonna make me sleep on the floor at yours?”

You lightly bit your lip. And fuck, you were in for the best kind of trouble. “Depends on how much you impress me.”

“And what do I have to do to make that happen?” There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do.

You tried to repress your smile as you leaned to whisper in his ear. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips. He shivered when your breath hit his skin.

“You’ll have to figure it out.” You pulled back with a little smirk, and he let out a soft chuckle.

His gaze flitted from your eyes to your lips and back again. His hand came up to caress your cheek, grazing his thumb there.

“Not even a little hint?” he asked teasingly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You pushed your head further into his hand.

He hummed. “Guess you’re right. Have to earn it.”

You grinned. “I have complete faith in you.”

And even though you were both joking with each other, that meant more to him than he would ever admit. You believed in him. You had gotten to know him and helped him through the hardest parts of his life without even knowing it. He wanted to prove to you that trust wasn’t misplaced. That he deserved your patience, your kindness, your love.

Without another thought, he pulled you into his embrace. He held onto you like he was afraid to lose you—like you’d suddenly change your mind and not see him.

You could feel it in the way he held you. You struck something, something crucial, something he needed to hear. So, you hugged him back, smoothing your hand up and down his spine.

When you pulled away, you slipped your hand into his. “I should probably get going.”

He nodded. “Get home safe.”

“Thanks, Billy,” you said. “I’ll see you next week.”

Before you could step around him, he encircled your wrist gently and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” he said, a smirk slipping back onto his face.

You shook your head slightly as you climbed into your car, waving to him as you pulled out.

He stood there, watching you drive further away from him. And he knew you two were about to be much much closer.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove deserved better

[vhstown]

time out (part 2)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, hurt/comfort, fluff, description of (boxing) injuries, briefly implied death, gtranslate spanish

word count: 5.3k

a/n: editing this was actual torture. kind of becomes a song fic? song is dreamer by bobby bland if you wanna listen before u read lmao entirely not necessary tho. part 2 of 2 but i might write this au again in the future !

← PART 1 / THE AU

Boxing — you tried to be as well versed in it as possible, learning as many terms and moves and whatever else you could pick up from Aaron when he was helping Miles train for all those weeks. What you weren’t sure of, though, was if a “time out”, or a break, had to be this awkward. What you also weren’t sure of was what on Earth your boyfriend was thinking doing here at midnight training (or splitting his knuckles open, though you didn’t quite know the difference anymore,) right after his tournament had finished.

Regardless, there was nothing you could do about it. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just leave and “give him space” as you might’ve done before. The weather didn’t look like it was going to clear up anytime soon, and you had no signal or money; it wasn't like Miles would call a car for himself anyway — stubborn.

Miles was sat on the floor against a set of shelves with various things that belonged to Aaron, and you were on an unbearably stiff bench press seat, legs close together so you wouldn’t fall off and your jacket hung around the weight. Cold, uncomfortable, dead silent — the perfect atmosphere for a productive conversation, of course.

Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. Yeah, you’d just talked big game to your boyfriend and scolded him like his mother probably would’ve if she knew what the hell he was up to, but you hadn’t planned anything after that. Miles wasn’t a talker — not by any means. Right now, he was sat on the floor with his legs crossed, stretching uncomfortably on his elbows with his hands in awkward positions to try and not strain them too much. He hadn’t said anything, so you hadn’t said anything either, and now you were stuck without any words and too many thoughts.

It was a lot of unmet glances and quiet shivers, and you tried your best to kill the urge to just... lean over and hug him. As much as you missed him and wanted to let out everything you’d been feeling for the past couple of weeks, now wasn’t the best time — Miles probably couldn’t even hug you with those gnarly injuries anyway.

Miles’ eyes were dull and tired, fixed on the ground or maybe somewhere you couldn’t see. As usual, you couldn’t gauge anything from his expression besides mild annoyance. It was like a constant guessing game. First, why your texts weren’t going through, secondly, where the hell he was, and now you had to figure out why on Earth he was so frustrated. Your luck had ran out with those first two guesses, and his silence certainly didn’t help — again, not a talker. Not even a looker; he wasn’t stealing glances of you anymore, like he was thinking about something. If only you knew what.

The most you could guess was that this was about not winning — but it couldn’t just be that simple. Miles was stupid sometimes, but he wasn���t delusional — he knew that he probably couldn’t beat every single person in that championship when he was just starting to go professional. This wasn’t some kiddish, lofty dream Miles had either — he was serious from the day Aaron got him those gloves, which were now crumpled up in the corner next to you. He wouldn’t throw a fit over nothing.

It wasn’t right to force it out of him though, and you could still sense the stubbornness lingering in the crease between his brows. You resisted the urge to smooth it out with your thumb, instead just killing it with every other thought you deemed “selfish”. Apparently, waiting was just as much of a competitive sport at boxing.

The door rattled as icy drafts bit at your ankles and fingertips. It sounded like the sky was going to collapse from how intense the storm was growing. Miles was just in a tank top, his hoodie abandoned on the bar behind you. You figured he could get it himself; any sort of help always seemed pitying to him anyway.

“I’m training with uncle Aaron tonight — stay home.”

“I can handle myself. How else you think I got this far?”

“You ain’t comin’ to Vegas with me.”

You found yourself reaching for the hoodie anyway. Miles didn’t notice, of course, but you could see the goose bumps on skin even from this far away.

“Hey,” you muttered, making him look up. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or sulk some more?”

His mouth opened, but only to let out a breath, before silence fell between you again.

“Fine, I don’t… get it, or whatever.” You continued, fingers trailing into the sleeves of the hoodie. “But I don’t get how I’m supposed to when you’re not talking to me.”

“There’s nothing to get.” It was like you had Vegas between you two again — like he wasn’t even here.

The fabric of the hoodie was warm, and a part of you didn’t feel like letting go of it — if only your boyfriend was in the hoodie too.

“I don’t get why you’d box without wraps, for one.”

“I’m just… frustrated,” he yielded, albeit unhelpfully. “‘S nothing serious, promise.”

Serious enough to have your fingers hanging on by a thread. You noticed his thumb nursing the blackened skin around his knuckles, and his expression seemed even more distant than it was before. It was always some impossible game, and you hadn’t lost, but were drained and out of words for now.

Maybe he’d figure it out for himself; you weren’t too convinced of that. Despite that, it was getting annoying to hear the constant howling of wind and rain outside. Walking over to the shelf, you dropped the hoodie in Miles’ lap. You doubted he had even looked at you, but you didn’t need him to. Right now, you needed something to fill this boring, cold and wordless room.

Looking through the shelves behind Miles, you noticed a picture: a much younger Aaron wearing boxing gloves, a medal around his neck and standing next to someone you assumed to be Miles' dad. You'd never looked at any of the pictures close up, but you noticed there were a lot of old pictures like that, before finding Aaron's collection of records.

Taking the first one out, you put it into the player and carefully set the needle, glancing at the name of the song. His taste in music wasn’t exactly popular, but you’d rather listen to “DREAMER” than “inconveniently timed Brooklyn storm” right now.

Letting out a sigh of your own, you slumped down next to him as he pulled the hoodie over his head, arms going back to being crossed.

"~Dreamer... dreamer... Like a fool, I thought that it could be..." Of course it was a sad song. Blues? The haunting melody made you feel blue. It made the cold feel more numbing than biting on your skin. It made you feel, in general — what, you couldn’t really place.

“…Are we okay?” you muttered without much thought. The urge to talk had come back, and you hadn’t decided if you regretted speaking yet.

"~Dream on... dream on... surely someone, will understand me..."

Miles let out a breath, and it felt like you were exchanging more sighs than words. “Yeah. I just… ‘S not you.”

No “promise”, though. Did that make it more or less honest?

"~What do I say, when I've, oh, said too much? I think by now, I'm wastin' time..."

“...I love you, y’know?” you continued, hating how out of place it sounded. It was as useless as that text you tried to send, but you were tired, and missed your boyfriend, and wished he would give you even a glance.

“~I'm going… oh Lord I'm gone…”

“Love you too,” he mumbled in reply. It wasn’t very reassuring, and it didn’t seem like it to him either, because he reached out to brush your hand against his. You took his hand first — gently, and his thumb pressed into your palm in a sort of silent apology.

You hated how futile it was, and how much you craved it again. You hated you couldn’t be even a little mad at him, and how you were defending him to yourself. Maybe you were both in the wrong. No — you weren’t wrong, you were trying to be understanding.

You weren’t wrong for feeling this way, were you?

“~You are the absence, of my mind…”

You hated how much you missed that boy from all those months ago — even though he was right in front of you. It didn’t feel like Miles Morales was yours anymore, he was theirs — whoever “they” were. His competitors, his managers, the media… It was like there was no trace of the Miles you knew before. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t deny it anymore: that Miles had a dream, and you probably weren’t in it. You hated how you took it so personally.

And you hated how you reached out to hug him, despite all of that.

It was just you for a moment, and you were about to pull away before his arms wrapped loosely around the small of your back.

You hated how you hid your face over his shoulder, and how nice it felt. You hated how warm he was, and how the room was freezing.

You hated how familiar this was.

“~Lord, dreamer… dreamer…”

“Sorry, cariño. Didn’t mean to be an asshole.” Miles’ fingertips dragged uselessly over your back, and you shamelessly tightened your arms around him as he pressed his cheek into yours. You might’ve shed a tear, if it weren't for how heavy your eyes were already with the late hour. Neither of you could go home yet, though you weren’t sure if you wanted to right now.

“~Like a fool… I thought, well, that it could be…”

The long sigh you let out was followed by Miles’ own quiet one before he kissed you on the cheek. His breath warmed your frigid face and brushed at your heart, as he always did. You wished you could be upset, overreact, scream at his face, tell him how you felt all this time. It just always had to end with forgiveness, because now, you couldn’t even remember what you had felt.

And you hated it — not as much as you’d like.

Closing your eyes, you buried your head into his hoodie while the music, the storm and the sound of your own breathing blurred together in your mind. All you were left with were your own thoughts.

This boxing thing didn’t involve you — it never did. He didn’t want you there to see him, or even tell you he was home from Vegas, and now it felt like he was just putting up with you here. It felt like you and him were on opposite sides of the pavement, only walking together to share the same umbrella. He just didn’t want you to get soaked — or hurt.

“I told you not to come today… I’m walkin’ you home.”

He didn’t want you to expect too much.

“Nah, you don’t need to see me train. It’s borin’ as hell.”

He didn’t want you to give up on him.

“I’ll make it big — promise.”

He wanted his dream — did he still want you?

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

Patient, huh? If only you could be like Rio. It felt like you were just as bad as Miles. Maybe you were — both just as bad as each other.

“Why didn’t you text me? …At all?” Muffled against his hoodie, you hoped your voice didn’t waver. It felt a little manipulative, even if it wasn’t in the slightest, but you couldn’t keep telling yourself things were all good. Miles had been avoiding you, whether that was intentional or not. You were just being open — trying to be open. You hope he’d try too.

The boy in question was silent, before he pulled away, hands lingering at your sides.

“I was…” Miles took in a breath, voice dying out for a moment. “Look, I…”

“~Down the wrong way, on a one way street…”

“I can’t be a boxer anymore.”

It felt like the rain had gone quiet. There was no need for an umbrella between you two anymore. It felt like you’d closed it yourself, walking to the opposite side of the pavement again, watching him and the dull, empty sky from afar.

You were the one that asked him — you wanted him to speak to you, and now you weren’t even sure what to say.

“~You'd think by now, I would have learned…”

“What do you mean…?”

“My contract got terminated.” His voice sounded forced, strangely robotic. Was that what you so wanted to get from him?

“Can’t you just… get signed by somebody else?”

“There is nobody else. I had a contract with Norman Osborn — he basically owns boxing.”

“~I saw a little, but I learned even less…”

Your heart dropped a little — you wouldn’t let it drop any more than that. It made sense why Miles was so excited back then if he got signed by someone like that. Now, that excitement meant nothing. All you could think of was that video, that interview…

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

So he’d just… given up? Miles had given up? Was that it? The end of it?

Boxer or not, you suddenly had the urge to punch him — maybe even punch yourself. It didn’t even matter who was right and who was wrong anymore, because you didn’t even know who was in front of you. It was almost uncanny to see Miles like this, so dejected; that’s what he’d been feeling all this time. As much as it seemed like he was mad at you, or was avoiding you, or lying to you, it was never really about you.

Miles was refusing to let go of his dream — of himself — until right now.

And you didn’t know what overcame you at that moment. Maybe it was Rio’s words, or the fact that Aaron wasn’t here, or the fact that you felt like you’d lost your boyfriend — if he wasn’t going to be stubborn about it anymore, you sure as hell were.

“So you’re telling me nobody else is gonna sign you? At all? You haven’t even looked?”

“You don’t get it, ‘s more complicated than—”

“Baby, look at me for a sec.” Your hand was on his shoulder with more confidence than common sense, eyes were square with his avoidant, dull, hopeless gaze. You haven’t ever seen Miles hopeless before. You couldn’t let him be if it was the last thing you did. “You, Miles Gonzalo Morales—”

“Aight, you don’t need the full name.”

“I do need it, because my whole ass boyfriend changed boxing history.” Frankly, you had no idea what you were saying; it felt like you were shooting in the dark, but you didn’t care if you sounded a little stupid, or over-the-top, because if that’s what it took to get your boyfriend to crack even a little… “His 'legendary left jab'—”

“Babe, where the hell did you get that from?” The look he was giving you was probably more of a “jab” than anything.

“…The news.” The corner of your mouth quirked up despite your best efforts, face pricking with heat as you remembered reading through that Bugle article like it was divine revelation. A little stupid, a little over-the-top, sure, but it was true.

Miles’ lips pressed together, and your face heated more trying to decipher his expression. You didn’t have to, because the snicker that escaped his throat was enough make all the rain and thunder and lighting, and even the song insignificant.

“~I only learn to regret…”

“Miles, I’m serious,” you muttered, rather unseriously, brows furrowing as you tried to smooth out the meekness on your face.

“Legendary?” There was a hint of his usual mirth in his tone, and you tried not to be bothered by it. Anything was better than seeing Miles like that: ridiculous, over-the-top, unserious, but not hopeless.

“Look, it was the Bugle, okay? Some millennial wrote that — like, some lady called Mary.”

“Why do you even remember that?” Anything that could come to mind, you’d tell him. No more silence. Just be yourself. Keep talking.

“I read it, like, a lot, okay? I was really proud of you and I just…”

The smirk fell fast from Miles’ face, and you held back any words you might’ve had. The rain eased back in as a constant patter against the windows — the silence had come back despite your efforts. Your heart started to sink a little again, but all you could offer was an awkward smile.

“You’re proud?” he asked, like you’d just lied to his face.

“Yeah…? I always am, but seeing you make it so far…” It was something you didn’t say enough, you realised. The words echoed in your mind as you found the confidence to look at him.

“…Miles Morales made it, right?”

Another tiny breath left Miles, his eyes closing for a moment as you waited for him to speak. You wanted to backtrack, maybe hope the rain would die down soon so you two could leave — you had sort of snuck out… That wasn’t the point, though. You weren’t sure what the point was right now, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking, as always — again.

His lips pressed to your forehead, and then your forehead was against his chest — somehow.

You still had no idea what he was thinking. Now you had no idea what he was feeling — or what you were feeling.

The room was freezing, but you were sure you were slowly setting on fire. Traces of the awkward smile you had were stuck on your face as your cheek pressed into the fabric of his hoodie, and suddenly every little thing you’d thought about saying to him had disappeared in its entirety.

“Dios (God), am I a dumbass…” he murmured to himself. With no clue what to do, you could only focus on the hesitance in the way he held you close, because of his injuries, you weren’t sure. His fingers were cold, like the air was. You didn’t hate the warmth this time.

The silence returned again, and instead of your heart sinking, it was fluttering wildly. You so wanted to take it in your hands and hold it still, but you couldn’t even hold Miles back.

He did this sort of thing often — used to do this often, when he was stressed for whatever reason. He wouldn’t say if he was, but you could always tell. Sometimes he’d ask, and right now, he didn’t, but it wasn’t like you ever refused; it was nice, safe, and away from the storm — close.

"~Surely someone, will understand me..."

He kissed the top of your head, like he was hoping you’d understand.

If only you could. If only you could understand why your boyfriend couldn’t see it — see how far he’d come, how much he’d achieved, how proud he should be of himself, how neither of you should be here right now.

If only Rio was here to tell him how proud she was. Or Aaron. Or his dad.

You never really knew his dad. You knew he’d be proud, at least. He'd probably be beaming seeing how far his son Miles had come, like he did in those pictures with Aaron.

You were proud too. Did that count for anything? Would that change anything? It wouldn’t get him another contract.

You wanted to squeeze his hand, but that was a stupid idea considering the state of it. A lot of your ideas felt stupid as of late. None of them would get him another contract.

It felt like a lot more than just the contract, though; maybe that's why it was so hard. If only he’d tell you.

But waiting wasn’t a game, or a competitive sport. It was nothing like boxing; there was no winner. Waiting was a choice — a promise, that you’d be there when he was ready.

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

You wondered if he’d ever be ready.

"~Dream on, baby."

You wrapped your arms around him, finally. At the very least, you promised to hold him, if not before, then now. He tightened his grip too, just mariginally.

“I’m sorry, mi cielo.” he started, voice barely audible. “I swear, I didn’t know you actually…” Miles trailed off, resting his chin on the top of your head instead.

“Cared?” you suggested, wondering if he could hear you. “It’s a lot more than that.”

You felt his chest fall as he let out a sigh. “I know.”

“I want you to know.”

“I do, I just… I’m being real dumb and—” You squeezed your arms around him before he could finish his sentence; no more avoidance. What you were going to say after, you didn’t know.

“…What?” His voice was suddenly soft, controlled. It was like he could hear what was going on in your head.

“You ever…" You moved your head away from his chest slightly, so he could hear better. "You ever had a stage name in mind?”

It was the only thing you could think to ask, though you didn’t ask it with much thought at all. Still, things weren't going to go anywhere if you kept dodging the subject.

Miles was silent for more than just a moment — it was enough to guess he did have one. “...Why?”

“Cause… when you get back in the ring, people gotta know you right?” It wasn’t just blind optimism — you decided that you did really believe in him. They weren’t going to see the end of someone like him, not by a long shot — or a legendary left jab. Your boyfriend was one hell of a boxer; it wouldn't just stop here — no way.

“I mean, '17-year-old from NYC' isn’t exactly catchy,” you continued, despite his silence.

Just one loss before so many wins. At his age, a win, against a “long-time champion” no less, was worth a million times more than that Norman guy’s contract, no matter how much of a big-shot he was.

“You think I’m gettin’ signed?” They’d be stupid not to.

“I know you’re getting signed.” Rio's words came back to you, and despite your hesitance, you found yourself saying: “If not, I’ll sign you and go to Vegas myself.”

Patient — like his mom, but also with that fighting spirit. You realised you had to be on his level too — match his energy, his enthusiasm. He’d spent long enough being on his own.

“...Fine, fine,” he shrugged. The edge in his tone seemed to fade as he thought for a moment. “If you’re signin’ me, you’re signin’… The Prowler.”

Miles loved boxing? Screw it, you loved boxing too. You loved boxing more than him, in fact — because it was a part of him. And even when he didn’t love his dream so much, you’d be there to love it for him. He loved all of you, and you loved all of him. That was still true now, even if he was going through something not so lovely.

And soon, you’d have something else to love too. Something new.

“The Prowler,” you repeated, a smile of your own creeping up on your face. “…You sure?” The groan Miles let out was enough to curb your need to annoy him… with love.

“Cariño…" he mumbled. "You ask just to make fun of me?” Miles shook his head, and you just squeezed him around the waist again.

“No, no way. I wanna welcome you to the team, Prowler.” A few firm pats on his back got him to laugh again, and though it was barely, that moment felt worth all those weeks.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m a hundred percent serious. You and your 'legendary left jab' and all.”

“You…” The hint of a smile was in his voice, and his good hand came to pull you closer, pressing the two of you flush against each other.

“Me…?” Your voice was muffled as you rested against the hollow of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he spoke.

“Can’t believe you’re still here.” It sounded more like he was talking to himself, speaking under his breath. The way it came out, it seemed like something he'd wanted to say for a while.

“Why would I leave?” Why would you ever leave?

“No clue.”

His good hand found your face, and you turned your head a bit so it wouldn't be so awkward to reach it.

“Don't know why I ever thought that.”

You felt his thumb run across your cheek, before pulling away and tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“Damn, you're beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head down to bump your nose with his, stoic expression and all. You were just about able to keep your composure.

“You trying to make it up to me with flattery?” It wasn’t like he had much to make up for — in your eyes, at least. The tease made his eyes narrow, but the ghost of a smile was on his lips.

“I can make it up to you a hell of a lot better than that.”

“Morales,” you warned, thought it didn't come out much like a warning. Especially not with how quietly you said it, your face so close to his.

“What?” It was his turn to be annoying. “Lo imaginé…” (I thought so…) You weren't sure you minded it.

It was nice to be joking, and flirting, and close again. There was no need to protest right now — no reason to pretend to be mad. His arm shifted to search for your hand, and you unconsciously laced your fingers together as your faces drew closer. You were already squeezing his hand before—

“Aye…!” Miles hissed, slipping his hand away as you both remembered the nasty, loud bruise that was spreading across his hand. His left hand, you realised, was the one he’d injured — it wasn’t exactly legendary now.

“Sorry…” you muttered, lips pressing together tightly as you took in the sight again. “But that was your fault."

Miles frowned at you almost incredulously as he held his own hand. “Nuh-uh.”

“Time out, Morales.” You couldn’t help it. Or help the smile on your face.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” You kissed his cheek to really rub it in. No more words from him, it looked like.

After a moment more of silence, and watching Miles nurse his own hand, you spoke up again. “…Are you gonna go back? To boxing?” Miles looked back at you, before nodding.

“Yeah. Eventually, I guess...” He let out a sigh, but it seemed like one of fatigue rather than frustration. You blinked away your own tiredness that was creeping back. "As the Prowler.”

“Got a lot of… prowling to do, then.” He pursed his lips at you in contempt, and you gave him a meek look in return. As much as you made fun of the name, it was pretty cool. “When are you thinking?”

“I’ll wait a little. ‘S too soon." Miles put his less-brutalised hand on your knee, looking at you a bit more earnestly. "Gotta make it up to you, first.”

“Obvio.” (Obviously) You tried hiding your smirk this time, but he caught it anyway.

“Driving me crazy for no reason,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. The few times you did speak Spanish, it usually wasn't to be sweet.

“A good crazy?” you tried, hoping he'd humour you a little. Maybe he could find it sweet?

“Ni hablar.” (No way.)

Sweet enough to kiss you, anyway. With his better hand, he held the side of your face by his fingertips, pressing a short, chaste kiss to your lips. The feeling was warmer than anything, and you were left with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as he pulled away.

“Te amo (I love you),” he whispered with his own shred of a smile. You caught a glint in his eye before his expression faded into that same serious look. “I'll fix up, I promise.”

“No need to promise." With your thumb, you finally smoothed the crease between his brows — an old, shared habit. It made his expression soften a little. "Cause you will, and you’ll make it even further next time.”

“Right,” he agreed, hand still lingering by your jaw. “I will. Gimme a time out if I don’t.” A laugh escaped your mouth at that.

"Sure." You met him with your own chaste kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile a little against your lips. “I love you too, by the way.”

The record had stopped playing, ages ago, you noticed, and there was another stretch of silence. Total silence, actually — it had stopped raining entirely.

“We should probably head back,” Miles stated as he looked out the window with you, before getting up with a bit of a groan. The two of you needed rest, especially him.

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching for your jacket. “I mean, I sort of… snuck out.”

His silence made you turn back, only to be met with an unamused look. You tried not to laugh again. “So you’re sayin’ we’re both dead.”

“Pretty much.” He rolled his eyes at your sheepish smile, but you caught the corner of his mouth lift up as he turned to the door. It wasn't like the two of you hadn’t snuck out before — this was just like all those other times, just more… unplanned.

The night time air was strangely cool and breathable as you left the warehouse. Though the concrete was slippery, and you and Miles had to hold onto each other to not fall, Brooklyn was glimmering almost ethereally by the moonlight, the sky clear with any lingering clouds now gone. You hooked your arm in Miles' arm, his hands loosely tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He’d have some explaining to do to his mom about his hands, and you’d have to creep back into your apartment as quietly as possible — but right now, in the silence hum of the city, you felt that things would be okay. Maybe they weren’t excellent, or ideal right now, but okay was a good start. The Prowler was a thing of the future, albeit near future. Right now, it was just you and Miles Morales, going home together past your curfews.

Ping! Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping—

Way past your curfews.

At the same time, the two of you pulled your phones out, only to be bombarded with notifications of missed calls and texts. You were a short distance away from the warehouse now, and your phones had only just gotten signal. It was 1:02am, and you had walls of texts asking you where the hell you were and to "get your ass home right now" on your lock screen. Miles gritted his teeth, and you didn't want to think about what Rio had to say.

As the pinging died down, your eyes met, the both of you thinking the exact same thing:

“We’re so dead.”

You shot a quick message back and mental prayer, Miles doing the same before hastily linking arms with you again. He returned your sheepish look with his own as the two of you kept walking, trying not to slip in the puddles. It had already been a long night, and it was about to get way longer, but at least you could have each other’s company.

"~All my life, been a dreamer..."

"~Dream on... dream on..."

After all, you could guess that a lot more than just a “time out” was waiting for you at home.

"~Maybe somewhere... maybe somewhere..."

🕸️🔭👾

↑ the song! bobby bland 🔛🔝

felt a bit empty without a message hi this is vee it is midnight and i have to go to school in less than 8 hours ! thriving !!!! also if you're interested i have a post about just the au itself here <3

taglist (ppl who asked anyway 😭): @iissza

reblogs appreciated (like so much i literally melt and die) catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

#miles 42 x reader #42!miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles 42 #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #42!miles x reader #atsv #vhstown #Spotify #prowler miles x you #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles #miles morales prowler

[iwhyzumiihajimee]

Tokyo Revengers Imagines [ part 1- fluff ]

pairing: ken ryuguji (draken) x fem.reader

content: high school friends -> sweethearts. daily sweet moments between draken and you.

genre: tokyo revengers au, timskip! high school, fluff, angst, mature 18+

word count: 1.3k

author's note: i've been on a tokyo revengers marathon... ken ryuguji is written as a eighteen year old here.

*multi-part series*

pt.1 (F) ; pt.2 (F) ; pt.3 (F) ; pt.4 (F) ; pt.5 (M) ; pt.6 (M) ;

“I told you to stay away and look what you did.” Draken scolded you as he kneeled down beside you, ripping off a piece of his shirt and tying it around your bleeding wound.

He had warned you to stay away from a gang fight happening between Toman and a rival gang- but you didn’t listen for whatever reason. Draken was fuming, although trying to keep his anger down because you were hurt. Does no one listen to his warnings anymore?

“You’re just like Mikey ya know.”

You let out a puff of frustration at his retort, "I know you're strong and can handle these kinds of things, but it hurts me to see you get banged and bruised up sometimes... I'm strong too... I can fight (just enough). Let me protect you as well..."

Draken sighed softly at your words, although still not letting his guard down.

“I know, I know- I appreciate that you care so much about me…”“I know you can fight but please, just… don’t do anything reckless okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt like this again.” Draken’s tone was a bit softer now as he took his time tying up the bandage on your wound.

Although he tries to sound like everything is okay, and you should worry, however you knew what goes down in Toman. "This won't be the last time... because you're also reckless. Especially when your with Mikey."

Draken felt his cheeks heat up a bit, although quickly cooling himself off. He was blushing because you were right- he was indeed reckless as well, especially when he hangs around Mikey. He couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, I know. Mikey’s a bad influence on me so… what do you expect?”

You raised a brow as you disagree what he said, Mhm... I don't think Mikey is a bad influence... You both are level headed and do things for the good of Toman... I guess it's the other gangs who challenge you guys, and it gets into your egos, but then again I do understand it happens to grow Toman... Sometimes it doesn't have to be that way, the smaller the better. Strong Toman members who are loyal, strong, and faithful."

Draken was surprised by your words. Mikey was a terrible influence on him yet you thought otherwise. Draken wasn’t going to argue with you or try to change your opinion because he knew Mikey was the main influence on who he had become over all these years.

“Hm… you’re right in that. A smaller yet strong group is better than a larger but weaker one… thank you for reminding me of that.” Draken smiled softly at you, happy that you reminded him what was truly important after all these years spent protecting Toman.

You softly smiled, "ah your welcome~ I've seen you both grow and I'm always here for anything~"

Draken spoke kindly before he chuckled, "You're such a good friend, y'know that?" He looked back down at your wound to make sure the bandage was tied tightly. He stood up and took a seat next to you, patting you on the head before he said anything else. "Now, do you think we can both go home for now? You should rest at least."

Spacing out as if you been sucked into a void as you watch him finish up you bandage. Thinking of giving him a kiss on the cheek to thank him for bandaging your wound, however Draken calling you a "friend", was reminder that was all you'll ever be. You silently muttered to yourself "Ah right... friend..." Snapping back to reality a few seconds before he mentioned heading home, you both head off.

Draken watched as your eyes lingered on him for longer than usual. He thought nothing of it, but a small part of him wondered why your attention was on him. He thought he heard something in your tone, but that may have just been him overthinking things once again and being overly cautious. Nonetheless, he stood up and offered you his hand. “Then let’s go home to rest.”

you limped on the way home as draken walked beside you. Draken looked over at your legs, noticing your limping for the first time. He looked concerned, letting go of your hand and going in front of you a little to match you speed. "Do you need help walking?" He asked. The stubborn person you are you denied his help, continuing to limp even though it hurts.

Draken knowing how of hassle you can be at times, his tone became firm which caused him to stop walking. "No, clearly you're not fine. Listen to me, I'm just gonna carrying you back home. No discussion." He gets in front and lowers himself so I can be carried on his back. With no arguments you hovered over yourself onto his back, "Okay... don't you dare fall off though."

Draken chuckled before lifting you up and carrying you. He walked at a steady pace, slowing down and making sure not to run since he didn’t want you to get hurt in any way. Draken had a warm look on his face as he made his way back with you in his arms.

Wrapping your arms comfortably around his neck as he carried you. You nuzzled a little and blush at his kind gesture, "I doubt I'll fall... Your always there to catch me~"

Draken’s blush grew more and more apparent, knowing fully well how you had just nuzzled into him. It made him happy that you felt safe and comfortable around him, but it also made his cheeks burn even more. Draken had only one goal in mind, which was to get you home safely so that you can rest and get better.

Shifting your head to stare the the night sky as you are both under the moonlight, breathing in the crips cool air, "ahh~ the night is peaceful~" Draken nodded in agreement, loving how peaceful the atmosphere became once it got later in the night. The full moon illuminated the sky and the light breeze felt refreshing against his skin. Draken took in the sights surrounding them and enjoyed the tranquility in its pure form, which would be hard to find during the day.

Moving me head towards the side view of his face and stared a little, admiring the nice soft moment, "Draken-kun?~"

Draken replied, "Yes?" looking over at you as you shifted your head up towards his face. He could almost swear that there was something on your mind, since your eyes were slightly fixated on his own. His blush would grow even more if possible now that you got closer to him. Draken’s words were still soft and kind, the same way they have always been to you.

For some reason you had the feeling in wanting to ask if he was interested in anyone, but you didn't want to ruin the moment, then having to deal with the awkward silence you back down. "Never mind..." You smiled, playing it cool as you tried to enjoy the rest of the night walked back home, placing you head nuzzling against his neck.

Draken’s heart was racing, not knowing if he should admit that he liked you or not. As you nuzzled your head against his neck, he got more and more flustered by the second. Despite everything, Draken couldn’t bring himself to say what’s on his mind. So, even though he wanted to admit his feelings for you, he stayed silent.

Arriving home and drops you off, "thank you for taking me home~ please get home safe, yeah?" Draken placed you down on the ground inside your home, smiling softly as his eyes met yours. Even with the moonlight illuminating everything, Draken was able to see your face clearly which made his heart ache. He wanted to say so much to you at that very moment, but Draken couldn’t bring himself to do any of it.

"Yeah, anytime~ I'll get home safely... You should rest, okay? See you later..."

Draken smiled and waved goodbye to you before he stepped out and made his way back home. He was trying to process what had just happened as he made his way back, his heart beating rapidly as he let his thoughts consume him by themselves.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #ken ryuguji #draken #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers smut #izana kurokawa #hanagaki takemichi #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev smut #mikey sano #manjiro sano #tokyo manji gang #tokyo manji revengers #takashi mitsuya #takemichi hanagaki

[foxy-eva]

Just an Act

Summary: Reader is an actress who did a movie with a lot of spicy scenes - Spencer wants to watch it with her

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) discussions of sex scenes in a movie, mild jealousy (Spencer), possessiveness, unprotected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: I wrote this as a standalone but it could be read as a sequel to Daring & Decent

Request by anon: I had an idea with your fic where the reader is an actress and I was thinking what if you made like a filler or a pt 2 where Spencer and reader watch her spicy scenes for the first time together 

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

Dating as an actress could be a little bit tricky sometimes. From complicated schedules to filming at distant locations or certain scenes I’d have to do – all that had been issues in the past. 

With Spencer everything seemed so uncomplicated for once. 

He was understanding and respected my wish for him not to watch any of my works – just because I thought it was a little awkward. However, once he found out about a particular movie I starred in, he had a hard time talking about anything else. 

Curiosity over what all the fuss was about seemed to really affect him. I thought that telling him about what was happening in the movie in detail might help but it only seemed to make it worse. Sometimes it only took seconds for him to get visibly aroused when I described a particularly raunchy scene I did. 

There was something about the idea of seeing me naked on the big screen that really intrigued him. 

If he was aware of how much fun I had with teasing him about that I couldn’t tell. To end his suffering at last, I decided to ask him if he wanted to watch the movie after all. He agreed before I even had the chance to finish my sentence.  

That was how we ended up sitting beside each other on my couch on a Sunday afternoon, my spiciest movie playing on the TV. I took more interest in watching his reactions than the film itself. 

The first impure scene was of my character pleasuring herself. 

I noticed how Spencer’s pupils dilated and his cheeks began glowing when he witnessed that. He licked his lips once the room filled with the sounds of my fake moans and I wondered if he could tell the difference between real ones. 

When he caught me staring at him, he cleared his throat, obviously searching for the right words to ask what he really wanted to know. 

“Is that… uhm…,” he muttered, “...How you actually do it? In real life I mean?” 

“I guess you’ll have to watch me sometime to find out,” I teased. 

His eyes widened at my words, the poor boy apparently too stumped to find his voice. I placed a soft kiss on his burning cheek and encouraged him to focus back on the movie. As a scene of a heavy make-out session with my character’s love interest came on, I noticed how Spencer kept shifting in his seat, almost as if watching me acting in a love scene made him nervous. 

Once things took a spicy turn, his demeanor changed. Suddenly he became cocky, huffing at what he was seeing on screen. 

“That’s not how you touch a woman,” he scoffed. “What is he even doing?”

“He’s following the script,” I reminded him. 

It was as if he tried to mock the other actor when he said, “You don’t even like that position.” 

“It’s just an act, Spencer.” 

When my character got closer to her breaking point on screen, words seemed to suddenly fail Spencer again. It was all the confirmation I needed to know that my acting was in fact very convincing. 

“I can’t tell if you’re jealous or turned on,” I snickered. 

He took a moment to answer me, sighing dramatically before mumbling, “A little bit of both.” 

My eyes fell to his lap, noticing the growing bulge straining against his pants the longer he watched the scene. I couldn’t help but tease him some more. 

“Don’t you think my boobs look amazing in that scene?”

He looked at me with a confused expression on his face, stating, “They always look amazing.”

“Are you sure?” I purred as I took my shirt and bra off to reveal myself to him. “Even in this lighting?” 

For a brief moment he couldn’t decide whether to look at my bare figure on screen or in front of him but kept his eyes on me eventually. 

With a smug grin painted over his face he chuckled, “Actually, I think they’d look better with my hands on them.” 

I pointed at the actor on TV and giggled, “Even better than his hands?” 

That was what made him snap as he harshly grabbed my waist to pull me into his lap. His mouth and hands were on my chest in a matter of seconds, caressing me with more enthusiasm than I had expected. I began rocking against the hardness in his pants once he focussed his attention to the peaks of my breasts. The moans falling from my lips weren’t unlike what we heard before but everything else was completely different. 

Spencer noticed that, too. 

“He’s a fool. He wouldn’t know how to please you,” he breathed against my skin. 

It was as if he tried to claim back his territory by letting his hands greedily roam over my body, shedding every piece of fabric that got in the way. I moved with him and mirrored his actions until our bodies could touch without any barriers. I sat on his lap like a queen on a throne, looking at the only admirer I’ll ever need. 

“I bet so many men wished to have you when they saw that movie,” he whispered into my ear before kissing down my neck. “But you’re mine.” 

With my hands cupping his face I guided his lips to meet mine, capturing them in a desperate kiss. His hand slipped between our bodies, finding me already aroused and waiting for his touch. 

“I need to have you,” he groaned. “Now.” 

“Take me,” I demanded.  

He guided his erection to my entrance and I sank down on him slowly. He buried his fingertips into my hips and began bucking upwards while pushing me down on him. I swung my arms around his shoulders and found him in a kiss that kept getting interrupted by the moans and sighs escaping my throat. 

We both became desperate to find relief quickly, moving against each other with more force than we usually would. It didn’t take long for us to fall over the edge together, every throbbing of his length answered by me pulsating around him. With heaving chests and heated cheeks we lingered in this position for a few more moments. 

The movie was still playing in the background while we tried catching our breaths. When we heard my character’s love interest talking again, Spencer chuckled, “He could never fuck you like I can.” 

“Never,” I agreed. “I’m yours.” 

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid  @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @airconsbeswag @conniesanchor @jordierama @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @sweetannanas @feltonswifesworld87 @snowsnow27 @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @l-e-n-a @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[xxxchuuyaslovexxx]

Dazai and Chuuya with a s/o that draws on their skin

Headcanons + scenario for Dazai and Chuuya

Warnings: None~

Word count: 1.1k

Dazai

Dazai absolutely loves it when you draw on your hands and arms. He thinks it's cute

Would definitely tease you about it like: 'Well well my baby draws on their hands like a bored kid in class. You like being naughty huh?'

Dazai thinks it's funny how you try to hide it and your face heats up

Secretly wants you to draw on his skin as well. And if you do… well you can tell he is the happiest man alive.

He would also steal your pen if he wants to annoy you just to draw at you as well

He does that because 'it's only fair'

I feel like he would write his name with a heart <3 

Actually for the both of you it's a some kind of a love language 

But take care he will get jealous if you draw on anyone else. He is the only one to deserve your love.

Scenario: 

'How is my Belladonna doing?' Dazai enters the room as you sit there trying to focus on some research you had to do for your work. Keyword: Tried.

Actually you were lost in your thoughts as you drew hearts and flowers on your hand. 

Dazai is actually used to walk into this kind of scene. He knows that you can't focus on work for too long. 'It's like living with a little child.' he often thinks to himself.

As soon as you noticed Dazai entered the room you tried to hide your hands, even though you knew he already saw it.

'Osamu uhm… Hey, how was your day?' You asked hoping he wouldn't tease you about it.

'Well not as boring as yours I guess.' He smirks at you as he makes his way to your desk. 

You hide your face behind your hands only for your loved one to admire them. He loves all the work you put into your drawings and he tells you every time only for you to be too humble to accept his compliments.

'Wow. Every time I see your artworks they are more beautiful than the ones before. But you know what?' He asks in a playful tone 'I can make art as well.'

—--------

'Osamuuuu. Will it take any longer? I still have work to do.' Dazai insisted on drawing something on you but under one condition: you have to keep your eyes shut. That wasn't a problem if he wouldn't take so long.

'I will be done any moment Belladonna. Just one last stroke. Here you go. Now look!'

You opened your eyes to take a look at Dazais finished work. It was a whole paragraph of text and hearts all around it. 

The first sentence was: 'I love you my Belladonna<3'. You looked at him with big eyes and answered shyly: 'I love you too Osamu.' 

He smiled at you and kissed your lips softly. 'C'mon read all of it.' 

Your gaze fell back onto your arm.

'I'm sorry I don't have that much time for you. The work in the ADA is crazy right now. I hope you can forgive me. I will try my best to spend more time with you in the future. I want you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are kind, smart and also very talented. I feel like I don't tell you often enough but you are my everything and I would never want to lose you.'

You smiled to yourself. You didn't know he could be that nice. Normally he is always a big tease and annoys you. 

But your face suddenly dropped as you read the last line: 

'PS.: I broke our washing machine. <3'

Chuuya

Actually it takes Chuuya some time to realize your habits because of the Mafia he doesn't have much time for you

But after some time being with you he notices the little doodles on you hands and arms

As he asks you where you got them from you explain to him that you draw on your skin when you are bored

Chuuya doesn't say much about it but he secretly thinks it is cute

But Chuuya being Chuuya he would never admit it.

He just pretends he doesn't care much about it

But you notice when his gaze lingers on you drawings and he sometimes even stares at them

When you draw on his hands he will tell you it's annoying but you know him better than that

He secretly admires his hands with your doodles or cute little notes on it when he thinks you are not around

What he doesn't know is that you know all of it because the other PM members told you about it

Scenario: 'Chuuuuu, how long will it take? Paperwork is so boring! You wanted to spend a day with me…'

You sit with Chuuya in his office as you draw something on a piece of paper.

Even though Chuuya promised to spend some time with you, he is still occupied with a lot of paperwork.

You understood that his work was important. But more important than you?

'I know babe I'm sorry. Let me… HEY!' He snaps as he takes the piece of paper you were drawing on and turns it around. On the "backside" there was a text written on it.

'You fucking dumbass! I will have to rewrite it now. I don't have time for this.' The short man hissed as he tried his best to stay calm.

'Here.' He gets out of his coat and moves his arm towards you. 'Draw on me before you can destroy any more of my works.'Chuuyas pretended to be annoyed but secretly he enjoyed having your personal marks on his skin.It's a win-win situation.

—----

After another hour Chuuya sights in relief. He was finally done.

He looked at your figure hoovered over his forearm. You were so concentrated that you didn't even notice he was already done.

He didn't want to disturb you so he waited until you moved your head up to admire your own work.

Chuuya also looks at it.

All over his arm you wrote 'I LOVE YOU <3' in beautiful letters. It looked like a tattoo on his skin. He is stunned and a sudden feeling hits him. His face heats up.

'I love you too. I'm sorry I don't have that much time to spend with you. And that I'm always stressed out. Do you think I'm too rough with you?'

He looked at you worried.

'Sometimes you are but that's why I love you. I fell in love with Chuuya Nakahara. The only person I will ever love. And I love all of you. So don't worry about such things.'

Chuuya smiled to himself. He once again remembered why he loved you. He leaned over to kiss you.

'Thank you.' he whispered.

Thank you for reading. If you have any advice don't hesitate to tell me <3

#Dazai scenario #Dazai Osamu #Dazai #Dazai x reader #X reader #Chuuya scenario #Chuuya #Chuuya nakahara #Chuuya x reader #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #Bungo stray dogs #Bsd #Bsd chuuya #Bsd dazai

[ten-shi-fandoms]

Painting buddies

___________________________________

CW: Wally Darling x Artist Reader, gender neutral reader, reader and Wally have a pre established relationship (friendship with mutual crushing), minorly romantic, kissing (only on the hand and cheek) first person pov, just tooth rotting fluff

Short like Wally's legs （‐＾▽＾‐）

___________________________________

Everything was perfect, if you could you would stay like this forever.

The sun high in the sky just slightly hidden by clouds. The birds chirping making soft sounds and songs. The wind blewing through your (h/c) hair and across your face. The soft grass that you sat on mildly damp from morning dew. Even the paint that so easily glided across the canvas you painted on as you sat behind your house in the woods not to far away was perfect.

It was easy to escape like this. No matter how much you loved the others sometimes they were a bit too much. They were loud, bright souls whom you loved deeply but sometimes the quiet just felt better. The others often tried their best to accommodate to you by trying their hardness not to be too loud or do too much and it always made you so happy. Though you needed some quiet and space which was why you sat out to paint. You had always loved painting, it helped calm you down and relax. The pretty colors, the ideas that filled your head, even the snell of paint all relaxed you, this time was no different. A small smile graced your lips as you heard the soft sound of the grass behind you start to move.

"How kind of you to join me." you called out to the figure behind you who was holding his easle along with a few brushes and canvas in his small arms obviously having a bit of difficulty but saying nothing about it. "I thought you might like some company, after all painting with someone else can offer new inspiration." Wally's soft voice rang through your ears as he made his way to you, sitting his things beside yours and getting his stuff organized. You noticed he brought no paints most likely opting to use yours instead which you didn't mind, you two had shared a paint pallette more than once so this made little difference. A small giggle left you at his statement your hand never once moving from the painting you started. "I guess so." with that there was comfortable silence aside from Wally settling in and the occasional movement of dipping paint brushes in paints or moving into better positions.

After a while Wally begun to hum, the sound easily cutting the silence filling it with a gentle sound. You recognized the song as one called "Beautiful Dreamer" a song Barnaby had taught you both albeit only the first verse. (E/c) eyes travelled from painting over to Wally who held a relaxed smile while he dragged his brush elegantly along his canvas. Turning your attention back to your own piece of art you begun to hum along with him, the sound of each of you humming mixing to make a gentle melody that laced the air around the two of you.

It seemed as if time moved slower when you were with Wally. The silence wasn't awkward or weird, it was comforting. The silence occasionally being cut with hums, small talk, and the occasional joke. It was nice, the entire atmosphere felt light and it made you happy knowing you had someone to share such a relaxing moment with. Soon enough the sun was beginning to set, the amber light from the sun glazing everything in a beautiful color. Luckly you were already finished with your painting and by the way Wally placed his brush aside it seemed he was finished aswell.

"How about we show each other what we painted on the count of three?" your suggested when you noticed Wally playing with the edge of his canvas as if he didn't wish to show his alone. With a curt nod you started to count. The moment you hit three you both turned your painting around to the other. Your painting contained (favorite thing) in (your art style). The contents of the painting making Wally smile. He had a feeling you would paint that, it was just like you too do something like that. As relaxed eyes stared at your painting, (e/c) eyes stared at the painting in front of you.

The painting had Home in the center with some of your friends but the thing that took you a bit by surprise was the main focus of the piece. Aside from that the base of the painting which was bright and colorful, your eyes were immediately drawn to the dark colors that laced the piece. There were black and red spirals along the piece, it was like Wally didn't like what he had painted and decided to change it last minute. You could feel Wally's eyes on you obviously excepting a comment on the painting he created. Closing your eyes you smiled warmly, a sight that made Wally's eyes widen and dilate.

"I think it's really cool!" you said, your voice happy and truthful making Wally's heart melt at the sweetness in the tone. Opening your eyes you saw Wally's wide eyed stare, the sight a bit creepy but ultimately looking rather cat like to you. Before you could speak Wally grabbed your hand placing a gentle kiss against the back of it then one against your cheek. As you stared at him shocked, confused and flustered he smiled at you with the same warmth you smiled at him with, causing warmth to spread across your cheeks and nose. "I'm glad you like it." his voice was warm, and soothing almost like it was coated in honey. "It's getting late, let's go back to Home and get some rest." he offered, his hand squeezing your firmly as you nodded happy to go along with him.

"That's fine by me." with a few more soft words exchanged you both gathering your things, you even grabbed some of Wally's stuff to help him out despite his protest. You both walked side by side, chatting away about what you should do once you got to Home. You were so caught up in the conversation that you missed the sets of eyes that followed you both as you made your way out of the woods, however Wally didn't but he said nothing deciding it was best to let the others have their moment while you both had yours. After all he could just confront Barnaby about it later.

Bonus:

"I knew it! See I told you Frank, Wally and (Y/N) are in love!" Julie's voice rang through the now empty woods. The male in question sighing, his hand covering his face as his bright eyed friend gushed about seeing how Wally treated you. "Julie it wasn't that hard to figure out. I mean really, do you see the way Wally looks at them?" Frank responded straightforwardly. It wasn't hard for anyone to see how Wally favorited you over the rest so it was easy to tell that their short friend might had been developing a crush on you.

"Calm down Frank, atleast now we know the feeling is mutual between them two." Barnaby butted in placing a hand on Frank's shoulder as he thought back to the sweet conversations you and Wally had shared. Eddie nodded along to Barnaby's words, his own hand reaching and cupping Frank's. "I agree with Barnaby, its good to know." Frank couldn't help but sigh and relax a bit as he looked at the path you and Wally took to leave the woods. A small smile pushed it's way onto his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "I guess your right." his voice low as he spoke, in a way he was happy for you more than anyone else. He understood your struggles when it came to noise and how energetic and outgoing everyone else was so seeing you enjoying yourself in your natural state made him happy even if it was with Wally of all people. "I guess your right."

#x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #X you #wally x you #wally x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling x reader #wally darling x self insert #wally darling welcome home #wally welcome home #welcome home wally #wally darling #wally x y/n #welcome home x reader #welcome home fanfic #welcome home #welcome home wally x reader #welcome home arg x reader #welcome home fanfiction #welcome home wally darling #welcome home x you

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 5

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (v) - Finnick

[17 & 18] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick sits at his desk, the end of his pencil tapping a song into the wood as he thinks. The two of you have been exchanging letters for almost a year now, but he still gets excited whenever you send a new one. Excited and nervous. Getting them mailed between districts is a slow progression involving lying to a few mayors and he's sure Snow reads each one. Still, Finnick thinks, it's worth it. In your latest letter, you explained to him how a bear snuck in from the woods, and the peacekeepers were forced to gun it down. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the mayor was "generous" enough to divide the meat among the citizens who were working. You finish with a closing of 'With love', your signature, and a shitty little drawing of a bear at the bottom with X's over its eyes. He traces it with his finger and pictures you hunched over your desk, nose scrunching in concentration as you draw it. "With love, huh?" He whispers to himself and smiles. Along with your letter, you sent a parcel full of bundled brown sticks tied together with yarn. Licorice root, you had said. Only available in the Capitol and District Eleven, best used in tea with berries. He brings it to his nose and it smells sweet, like caramelized sugar. It smells like you, but it's missing that undercurrent of earthly petrichor. He looks up when he sees Mags approaching with a knowing look in her eyes. She looks at the letter in his hands and he folds it before she can read the contents. Not that it matters. All she needed to see was the signature. It's not like she doesn't know who you are. She was so ecstatic to hear your stories, insisting he got more from you. And you gave them freely, even after Finnick ran out of ones to trade. It’s odd. You wanted nothing in return. Sometimes, he gets a little ahead of himself and wonders if it’s because you like him.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume that, right? Right. "What's that face for?" He laughs. She takes a loose piece of paper and a pencil to write: "When's the wedding?" He opens and closes his mouth, words escaping him. "It's not like that. We're just—” Just what? You are friends, right? Finnick has friends, but none that he likes as much as you. And the way he feels with you? He doesn't feel like that around them, not by a long shot. To just call you a friend feels like calling an ocean a pond. It's almost disrespectful to condense it into something so lacking. He can’t force you, and everything you make him feel—into such a small box, it would only overflow and drown him. You are much, much more than a pond. 

Best friend, then? While true, it feels too juvenile. He considers it and he doesn't particularly like the idea of just being your friend anyway. He imagines you introducing him as such.

“Oh, and this is Finnick. My friend. Only my friend.”

No. No, he doesn’t like that at all. 

If he can't be honest with you, he can at least be honest with Mags. "—I guess it is something like that." She hums excitedly and pinches his warm cheeks. "She says she hopes you're doing well." Mags perks up at that, gesturing between herself and the blank paper. He grins at her enthusiasm, "I'll tell her you said hi. Promise." She nods and pats his hand with a smile. As she walks to sit on the couch behind him, he thinks about what to send you. He can't just send a letter. Especially after you went out of your way to send licorice roots after he offhandedly mentioned he'd like to try some. He wracks his brain but comes up empty. Other than rope, hooks, and seashells, there's nothing else he can give you. His eyes drift around the room, landing on his bare wrist.

There is something he can make you. 

Still. You want to be around him now more than ever.

Don't worry, there's more! For whatever reason, Tumblr refuses to let me post some chapters in their entirety, so if you want the rest, just click this link!

#hunger games catching fire #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #in a week #and they'd find us in a week

[altergibralter]

Moon Knight Fanfiction from the POV of Someone with DID

I don’t know how many people that write or read Moon Knight fics will see this, but I wanted to both vent and try to maybe get some tips out there about the things people are misunderstanding about DID.

I recently binged the show in preparation for the last episode coming out soon. I have fully seen the first 4 episodes and I’ve been told what happens in the 5th. The way the group works is, if I think a piece of media may be triggering in some way, but I want to see it, I let Mitchell know to watch, if he has a chance, the next time he’s fronting, and tell me if he thinks I can handle it. Sometimes Norah will do that instead of Mitchell if he doesn’t want to I guess. So, Norah actually watched the whole thing. I trust her judgement, and she said I could watch episodes 1-4, but that I should just let her summarize episode 5. Based on her summery, I don’t think I ever would have finished that episode without switching anyway. I also haven’t read the comics myself. We have some of the comics downloaded on our kindle, and they’ve been read, and while I assume Norah is the one who’s been reading them, she hasn’t said and I haven’t asked.

All that to say, I have been reading fanfiction about the show only, and I may have some blind spots on what has and hasn’t been demonstrated in the show.

The show, in my opinion, while definitely not perfect, does a pretty good job representing DID. I was very excited to find out that apparently the characters with DID are culturally Jewish and autistic as well, because I am too! That’s a lot a representation I can relate to. There are things that they do that seems a little off, but over all, I think it’s pretty good. Maybe I will review it more in depth after it’s all out.

Now, on to things I want to explain to fanfiction writers. I made a list.

1. If the body is unconscious, all alters are going to be unaware of whats going on outside of it. I’ve seen in fics where Marc, who’s in control of the body, will be knocked fully unconscious, and Steven will somehow be able to tell Marc what happened after he wakes up. What?! How?! You already have Khonshu to use for stuff like that. Say Khonshu told him if he needs to know.

2. Marc and Steven don’t require mirrors to talk to each other. We see in the first episode that Marc can say things to Steven without a mirror around. The show uses mirrors because it’s easiest for an audience to distinguish between the characters, and understand they are two different people if they physically show them both. There are fics that have them unable to talk to each other unless a reflective surface is around them. If you want them to not be able to talk to each other in the moment, just say they aren’t co-conscious.

3. They are not always co-conscious. The show has them frequently shown as being co-conscious or co-fronting, but they aren’t always. If they have DID, not OSDD, then they aren’t always going to know what the other has been up to. This, I will say, the show is not great at getting across, at least with Marc. He comes across like he knows everything about Steven and everything Steven has ever done. However, even with Marc, he doesn’t have the knowledge that Steven does about Egypt. Yet still, there are fics where Steven can’t keep secrets from Marc, because he will just know, when that is just not true. If you want to say Khonshu ratted him out to Marc, use that.

4. While sometimes you can have an out-of-body experience while being co-conscious but not in control of the body, you are not going to notice things that the body wouldn’t notice. You’re not a ghost roaming around the room. So Steven would not be able to tell what someone had hidden behind their backs to warn Marc about it, unless Marc could tell. I literally saw a fic where Steven told Marc what cards someone else had while playing poker. Not because Steven can count cards, but because he could look and see them. No. Not possible. Again, use Khonshu for that.

5. If Steven is autistic, Marc is too. Most people seem to understand this one, but some don’t. So for the people who don’t, if one alter has something like autism or ADHD, all alters will have it. Some may manage it better than others, but they all have it. I don’t want to read another fic where Marc explains to someone that Steven specifically is autistic. He can specifically be vegan, but he can’t specifically be autistic.

6. Television shows need characters to say their thoughts out loud because visually it’s better. So I don’t blame the show for showing Marc and Steven discuss things aloud, but they don’t have to. There are many fics where, whichever one is not in control of the body, will say something, and the other will not want to or be able to reply because they would be speaking out loud, and that would be bad/awkward. That’s not an issue in real life. I think some systems may prefer to reply out loud, but I don’t think any are unable to just reply by thinking.

That’s my list. It’s not long. I haven’t read a whole lot of fanfic yet, so I don’t know if those are even the biggest issues out there. I just wanted to kind of vent about the stuff I had seen.

DID isn’t magical. Yet some people write it like it is. Which for this show, is even more ridiculous to me, when Khonshu could be used as a magical all knowing outside presence. 

No hate to anyone. I respect fic writers for putting stuff out there. A lot of it, even with these mistakes, is still good. I just wish people would do a little research about things they haven’t experienced before.

#moon knight #fanfic #dissociative identity disorder #actuallydid #did #marc spector #steven grant #khonshu #fanfiction #andi

[romione-trope-fest]

Finish

Fic Title: Finish

Author Name: voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl

Selected Trope: Weasley Weddings

Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione find time on the horcrux hunt to finish what they started at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Word Count: 1859

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: none

***

It feels like she has packed and repacked this bag a hundred times since the start of the summer. Even with magically infinite space to bring whatever they need, Hermione has second and third and fourth guessed this book and that potion and everything in between. Sometimes she worries that the beaded bag and its contents are all she’s contributing on this mission, and she wants to get it right.

As she reaches in again, her fingers snatch onto floaty fabric that she recognizes by touch alone and after a moment’s hesitation, Hermione pulls out her dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding, letting the chiffon unfurl toward the dark and dingy floorboards. What a perfect day that might have been if not for—well, everything. Spending the reception dancing with Ron was a bright spot in an otherwise mostly dreary day, from the Minister’s visit that morning to the uninvited guests that crashed the post-wedding party. But even that…

She thought she knew how Ron felt about her, thought that they were making strides toward something more than friendship. But even though he had snagged her away from Viktor to dance, showcasing a jealousy that reminded her of fourth year and the only other time he had seen her so dressed up, there had been nothing more. He hadn’t kissed her, he hadn’t told her how he felt. Of course, she hadn’t done those things either. There’s a war coming—it’s here, really—and what the hell are they waiting for?

Hermione tosses the dress over the back of the sofa and reaches back in for Ron’s dress robes. She’s not sure why they’re still in the bag anyway, why she hasn’t hung them up in a closet somewhere under a preservation charm to keep the dust off. Of all the things that they might or might not need hunting horcruxes, she thinks it’s fairly safe to assume that her dress and his dress robes are a do not need. But they’re also the only things they have with them that remind her of a happier time. Everything else in the bag is so…tactical.

“Hey.” Ron’s voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and he raises a quizzical eyebrow at her as he enters the room. “What are you doing?”

“Packing. Unpacking. I don’t know.” She motions to the pile of clothing draped over the sofa she’s been sleeping on every night, her fingers entwined with Ron’s. That means something, doesn’t it? “I don’t suppose we have any need for these anymore.”

“Probably not.” Ron trails his fingers down the sleeve of his robes. “It’s a shame that we didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”

Hermione shrugs. “It was a lovely ceremony. Fleur looked beautiful, and at least we made it past the cake and everything before the Death Eaters showed up.”

“Oh, er…I meant us,” Ron says, and Hermione’s breath catches in her throat. “We didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”

What is he saying? Did he have plans for them that evening? Was that going to be the night, before everything fell to pieces and they were running for their lives?

He smiles at her, that lopsided grin that’s been melting her heart since she was fourteen, and suggests with a laugh, “We could always get dressed up again, and have our own little celebration here.”

Hermione chuckles too. As much as she would love to do that—to know what exactly they didn’t finish the night of his brother’s wedding—they have more important things to focus on. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh. Yeah, alright.”

“I just meant with the mission—”

“No, no, you’re right.” Ron gives her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m gonna go see what I can round up for dinner.”

He leaves her alone in the drawing room without another word, and Hermione sighs, wondering how she always manages to say the wrong thing to him.

She gathers up the clothing, but rather than put the pieces in a closet, she folds them carefully and places them back into her beaded bag.

Maybe one day we can finish what we started.

***

Ron’s feet are heavy as he trades places with Harry, who’s about to finish out the night watch. The winter air outside is nothing compared to the frostiness inside the tent. Not that he’s surprised. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. But he and Hermione are both as stubborn as they come, and her resolve is stronger than his.

She’s barely said five words to him since he returned to the hunt, so the sight that greets him behind the tent flap hits him harder than a stunning spell: Hermione, wearing that tantalizing lilac dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Obviously, she’s gone completely round the twist.

Ron takes a step forward into what he now realizes is a suffocating heating charm on the tent, mimicking that same stuffy August evening. Before he can raise any questions, Hermione thrusts a bundle of fabric into his arms. “Put these on,” she instructs, her tone clipped as her lips set into a thin line.

“My dress robes?” Ron asks as he examines them. “Hermione, are you feeling alright?”

“Peachy,” she snaps, the only response he’s apparently going to get. After a loaded moment without further instructions, Ron takes a step toward the loo.

“Uh…okay. Be right back.”

Hermione’s request makes absolutely no sense, but he’s not really in a position right now to deny anything she asks of him. If putting on his dress robes will get her to talk to him, it seems a very minor sacrifice to make.

He puts the robes on as quickly as he can and then heads back out to the main area of the tent, where Hermione is waiting. They’re a pale echo now of themselves from that night—clothes hanging loose from months without proper nutrition, both a bit scraggly and in need of a haircut, and a shave in Ron’s case—but she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her expression is one of grim determination, but her brown eyes are wide and bright as she looks up at him.

“You said we never got to finish the wedding,” Hermione says softly.

“You want to now?” Ron asks incredulously, shock winning the battle against common sense. He had suggested this, only sort of joking, back at Grimmauld Place and she had shut him down. The conditions now are even less ideal, and he’s flabbergasted that she’s bringing it up.

“I need to know if I’m crazy,” she answers, and though Ron has some thoughts on that at the moment, he wisely keeps them to himself, “or imagining things. I need to know what we didn’t finish that night.”

“Hermione—” She holds a hand up, silencing him instantly.

“Show me.”

Stubbornness grips them both again as they stand frozen, eyeing each other across the room, neither willing to look away. She doesn’t know what she’s asking. She doesn’t know that he had every intent of pulling her out to the back garden to tell her how he felt, to maybe finally steal a kiss, but a combination of having fun dancing and debilitating nerves at the idea of taking that step had kept him putting it off for one more song. One more glass of champagne. Until there was no more music and no more champagne, only fear and chaos, and their focus had been forcibly shifted to other things.

She doesn’t know any of that, so what does Hermione think they’re finishing?

Sod it. She’s the brightest witch of their age. Maybe she does know.

Ron crosses the room to the wireless and gives it a couple of taps with his wand until it’s playing the soft, slow song that had been the last one they heard at the wedding. He turns back to Hermione, who holds her hand out in invitation. “Come and dance?” she whispers his own words back at him, her voice shaky as her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

He takes her hand and wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her in close, and Hermione’s head settles against his chest as they barely sway to the music. Even before he left, they haven’t been this close since the wedding, and Ron never wants to let go again.

“Do you really want to finish this the way I wanted to at the wedding?” Ron asks softly as the song ends and then starts over. “You’re hardly even speaking to me, let alone—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. Despite Hermione being the one to initiate this, kissing her feels like a boundary he shouldn’t cross. 

Hermione pulls away to look up at him, but holds onto his hand. “When you left, it made me question everything I thought I knew about you. About—us.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “So yes, I want to know. I need to know. Unless—”

She stops, and Ron braces for her rejection. Maybe he should’ve just kissed her and not second-guessed himself. Hermione bites her lip anxiously and drops his hand, and his fingers dangle uselessly between them, still half-reaching for her. “Unless what you want has changed since the wedding because in that case there’s no point in pretending that—”

Whatever else she’d intended to say gets swallowed up by Ron’s lips. What he wants hasn’t changed at all, only gotten stronger, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer to show her.

Hermione melts against him, her hands finding their way into his hair, and kissing her feels like coming home. Every brush of her lips against his is a taste of forgiveness, and he drinks it in like he’s dying of thirst.

He doesn’t stop kissing her until he tastes salt, and he pulls away to find tears streaming down Hermione’s cheeks. She leaves her hands tangled in his hair to keep him close, though, and presses her forehead to his to whisper in anguish, “Why did you leave, then? If that’s what you wanted, Ron, why did you leave?”

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He never expected it to be. Ron sighs. “That’s a story for a different night, I think,” he replies, and at that Hermione does let him go with a hollow laugh.

“Of course you’re not going to tell me,” she scoffs. “Why would this change a damn thing between us?”

Ron reaches for her again, tugging at the chiffon that hugged her body like a glove four months ago but is now loose enough for him to grab an entire handful. “I just meant—not this night.” He motions to their outfits, to the purple dress and the navy robes that aren’t yet tainted with thoughts of the locket. “Let’s get changed, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Hermione trails her fingers down his lapel as she looks up at him. “Promise?”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily. All he’s wanted to do since he got back is tell her the truth; he’s just been waiting for her to want to hear it. “I promise.”

#submission #weasley weddings #romione trope fest

[ijhyo]

CHAPTER 4

what was supposed to be a fun weekend away with friends turns into a sinister game of hide and seek where their lives are on the line. trapped in a lake house cabin with only six hours on the clock, can y/n figure out who is behind the mask and manage not to get caught all before sunrise?

PAIRING. soobin x gn reader ; beomgyu x gn reader ; yeonjun x gn reader

GENRE. college au ; mystery ; thriller ; escape room ; angst ; horror ; humour

WARNINGS. character deaths (quick, act surprised) ; injuries ; blood ; swearing ; stabbing ; guns

WORD COUNT. 7k

A/N. FINALLY! she is here! after 300 years the final installment of the here i come series is out GOD BLESS. never have i been so happy to finish something in my life. very big thank you to everyone who continued showing interest in this fic even though this chapter took forever, this is truly for u I LOVE YALL! some of u have kind of guessed the killers so kudos to you, big brained people. i cant think of anything else to say just here you go, thank u, enjoy!!

TAGLIST. @tsupuffs @ren-chib @yjwfav @mykalon @junityy @iyeonjuni @fallingforhoon @fairybinie @enhacolor @cheorei @jjhmk @acciomylove @yeonjunsgf777 @soobin-chois @chosoluvr @odxrilove @soobisms @strawbrinkofdeath @etherealcherrie @maemarahuya @1-800-ryujin @wisecheesecakecloud @fairyofshampgyu @i-haewon @cottontvil @minthicons @bettyschwallocksyee @glyxiebear @calumsfringe @luvrboygyu @clyspm @celestialgyu @fallingforya @gyumie @ihsmarat @wooseoft @tatansoobin @wccycc @hello0i @prodsputnik @yotser @yhawnnzz @najaemin138 @ljnfav

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When you come to, you are laying in a bed, an overhead light shines glaring harshly in your eyes. You blink blearily, trying to get used to the brightness of the room and getting your vision to focus.

Movement catches your attention at the foot of your bed. You see Lia moving around the room, picking up your dirty clothes to do the laundry because you always forget to put them away, humming under her breath as she works.

Saturday was always laundry day.

After you got out of bed, you would be the one to take out the trash and go shopping for any groceries you needed. By the time you’d get back, Lia would have already finished with lunch.

You’d watch a movie or two, maybe play a game if you could convince your roommate, and order take out for dinner.

Right about now, she would tsk her tongue and throw a dirty shirt at you, telling you that you need to start cleaning up for yourself. You’d roll your eyes fondly and promise to be neater. Lia would accept it even though she doesn’t believe you and the process would be repeated all over again the next week.

You wait for the shirt to hit your face. It never comes.

Instead, the illusion is shattered when your eyes finally focus on the person you saw and see that their back is way too broad to be your friend’s and that, looking around curiously, this was not your apartment.

Everything comes rushing back then.

The game. The killers. Lia.

You’re laying down comfortably but you feel dizzy. Raising a hand to your head, you feel cotten where your temple should be and find that pressure causes a sharp sting to shoot up to your forehead. You let out a low curse at the pain and the other person finally takes notice of you.

He moves to your side, relief written on his face. “Oh, you’re awake, thank God.” You try to place the boy in your memory but draw a blank. “You passed out sometime between the lake and here and didn’t wake up for half an hour. I was starting to get worried.”

Yeonjun, your brain supplies when all the recent events catch up to you.

Now that you could see his face illuminated properly, pretty seems like an understatement. His dark hair is pushed back, revealing his forehead and you didn’t think that could be attractive, but here you are.

Yeonjun is still watching you. You clear your throat. “Um, thanks. For helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” he says smiling. “You looked like you needed it.” You suppress a scoff. If only he knew. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

His sudden question snaps you back. He has his hand up in your direct line of vision. “What?”

“I’m checking if you have a concussion. I dressed your wounds as best I could with zero first aid training but I need to make sure you won’t pass out again on me.”

His fingers are really pretty. You blink. “Oh. Three.”

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied. “Okay. Good, that’s good.”

He walks around the bed and disappears behind through a door. You use this opportunity to look around the room Yeonjun put you in, not finding it familiar at all.

Knowing that it is not far from Soobin’s lake house, you think that this house must be on the same level of extravagance, or at least close to it, but this room gives no indication of that. It’s smaller than the bedroom you were going to spend the night in before but still larger than the one in your apartment.

There is indications of use around; a t-shirt hanging on the back of a chair; shoes spilling out of the closet; and the faint smell of cologne lingers in the air. It all seems so boy that the only conclusion you draw is that this is Yeonjun’s room.

The boy in your returns with a glass of water that you accept gratefully. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were until you downed the drink in seemingly one gulp. Yeonjun watches amusedly as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and you feel your face heat.

“Where are we?” You ask, holding the glass in your hands.

Yeonjun looks around the room in thought, humming. “About ten minutes away from where I found you.”

“Do you live here?”

“Nah,” he denies easily, taking a seat ay the foot of the bed, being careful to avoid touching your legs, “I’m just house sitting. The family that lives here is away at their other vacation house. In Japan.”

At your stunned look (you’re pretty sure that your mouth is open wide), Yeonjun nods hugely. “I know. Rich people, am I right?”

You scoff. “You could say that.”

It goes quiet. Yeonjun watches you curiously, his heavy gaze makes you avert your eyes to the glass in your hold. You clear your throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

He winces. “Can I?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, before launching into your recount of the night’s events. You watch his face as it goes from curious to shocked before finally settling on what is a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

Which, sums it up pretty nicely.

“That’s…Fuck, I-I don’t even know what to say. Who would do that?”

It feels oddly reassuring hearing this surprise from someone who has zero knowledge of the fucked up party you were just at. You inhale sharply. “Don’t know yet. But I’m gonna find out.” And you were. You couldn’t sit here forever.

“And the rest of your friends? You said you think they’re…” Dead. The word hangs between the two of you, too scared to be spoken aloud for fear they might be true.

“Well,” you start decisively, “they might not be.” With that, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, holding back a cry at the pain that erupts from the sudden movement.

Yeonjun’s hands shoot out to steady you, eyebrows creased with worry. “Woah! What are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you grit out, pushing off the taller boy.

“You’re quite literally not. You might not have a concussion but fuck, Y/N, you’ve been stabbed. You can’t go out there. You need rest.”

Continuing out of the bedroom, you find yourself in an enormous foyer, almost as grand as the Choi family’s. “I need to make sure my friends are okay. I need to make those bastards pay.”

Your path is blocked by a very tall wall standing in your way. You roll your eyes, knowing that he used the fact that he doesn’t need to limp to pass you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Yeonjun stands defiantly, arms crossed and displeasure clear in the hard set of his jaw. You are getting quite sick of boys telling you no.

You stop in your tracks, thinking.

Then, “Do you have any knives?”

2 HOURS LEFT

The trek up the hill is hard with your injuries and takes longer than it should have had you been in full strength. The ground is soft beneath your feet, gives way every few feet and you have to readjust yourself carefully to avoid slipping.

A knife, so graciously given to you by Yeonjun, is hidden under your shirt. You walk in a way that it won’t accidentally nick your side. It feels awkward but it works.

Nearing the house, light spills out into the night, the grand chandelier still on. It is jarring almost, how the trees go from being cloaked in darkness to being bathed in bright light.

The front door is deserted.

You feel the warmth from the fireplace rather than see it, noting how it is still on, despite everything. That someone was stoking it.

You enter cautiously. Hand hovering over where the knife is, you stalk your way back into the kitchen and the sight of your altercation with the seeker leaves a sour taste in your mouth. The kettle remains strewn across the floor, a puddle of water mixed with blood spilled across the wooden floor.

Heart hammering loudly in your chest, you approach the door to the wine cellar, hand clutched to your waist. You know there is a possibility that the seeker could be there, could jump out and surprise you at any moment, but now that you have your own weapon to defend yourself, you wouldn’t let that fear stop you from finding Lia.

A crash.

Your head whips around frantically at the sound. Straining your ears, you listen carefully for any indication of where the noise came from. Quietly, you duck behind the kitchen island into a crawl. The knife nicks digs into your stomach but you ignore it, focusing on controlling your breathing so as to not bring attention to your location.

There is a slam as something collapses against the ground.

“Get away from me!”

Your heart stutters.

Soobin.

The sound of heavy footsteps gets louder with every passing second as someone walks closer to your hiding spot. Peaking your head around the side of the island, you try to get a glimpse of who it is, but the wall of the kitchen obscures your view. Clenching your teeth, you steel yourself to take the risk and reveal yourself to see who it is.

Slowly moving from your crouched position, you rise to your feet and are greeted by the back of the boy you have liked for two years, the boy who went through all this trouble just to try and create a night you’d enjoy.

“Soobin.” Your voice cracks around his name. Tears well in your eyes and threaten to spill.

He turns and your heart soars. “Y/N?” Relief washes over his features as he takes you in. He barely gives you time to respond before he crosses over to you and engulfs you in a massive hug.

Immediately, your shoulders relax and all the tension in your body melts away when his arms wrap around you. “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried, you just disappeared and I couldnʼt find and there was blood everywhere I, I thought—”

Pulling back slightly, you press a gentle hand to his face to stop his rambling. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” His eyes search yours and he nods numbly, bringing a hand to cover yours.

Soobin laughs mirthlessly. “Some game night, huh?”

Your chuckle comes out wet. “Not exactly what I had in mind, no.” You chance a look over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the seekers pop out and ruin the moment. Focusing your gaze back on Soobin, you graze your eyes over his face, going through a mental checklist of injuries. There’s a cut above his eye and dried blood crusts his cheek. Aside from that and a split lip, he’s fine. You exhale in relief. “They didn’t get you,” you breathe, more of a statement than a question.

He’s in front of you, face beneath your fingers, real and alive.

Soobin nods once. “They tried to, but I got away in time.”

“That’s good. Have you seen Beomgyu? Lia?”

“No, I’m sorry,” he admits solemnly and you feel your heart constrict. That doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, stopping yourself from thinking the worst. He must read your mind because his eyes rove over your face and he kisses his teeth. “Y/N…” he warns carefully, but your mind is up.

You tell him as much, but he’s still against it. “You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. The doors are open–we could leave! Get out of here right now.”

While what he is saying sounds appealing, there is nothing more that you want than to get as far away from this house as possible, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that without your friends. “I came back here because I couldnʼt leave you guys. I found you and I’m not leaving until I find the others. I’m not leaving without them.”

There is a possibility that you are in over your head. That even if you did manage to get past the seekers, the chances of you finding your friends alive was slim. You know that’s what Soobin is thinking, that he’s just trying to be rational. You expect him to argue, but instead he just sighs. Glances up at the ceiling. Locks eyes with you again.

“Okay.” Even though he agrees, you can tell he’s still apprehensive. “But I’m going with you.”

You nod, offering him a grateful smile that he returns. Your mind flits through the faces of the other people who were at the party, a drop in your stomach when you remember all the people who died. “What about the others? Yunho and Wooyoung?”

At the mention of their names, Soobin’s eyes darken and his jaw sets.

Cocking your head to the side, you ask, “What is it?”

It takes him a moment to respond, a myriad of emotions passing on his face as he considers whether to tell you whatever it is or not. He comes to a decision when he inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. You watch him curiously. “They…fuck. They’re the seekers, Y/N.”

You blink owlishly. “What?” you question, barely above a whisper. There’s no way. It can’t be. You saw them, you, you played with them, you might have even gone as far to say you could have become friends. They couldn’t have…

But Soobin’s mouth is set in a hard line and suddenly the room seems too small. “But how could they…in the screening room, they were with you. How could they…?” You can’t get the question out but Soobin understands anyway.

His face softens as she shakes his head. “They joined us later, before I found you. And then, after you left, so did Yunho. He came back as the seeker and killed Jongho right in front of us, and we all ran. I saw Sumin’s body at the top of the stairs and I was just attacked. It’s them. They’re behind all of this.”

You feel sick. Bile creeps up your throat and threatens to spill out, but you swallow it down.

Shutting your eyes tight, you exhale shakily. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that your best friend was missing.

Squaring your shoulders back, you lock eyes with Soobin.

“I’m getting Lia back. And those bastards are gonna pay.”

His eyes widen in shock at your concoction but he recovers quickly. Nodding once, he grabs one of your hands and leads you out to the living room where the couches have been turned over and the coffee table lies on the carpeted floor in pieces, splinters of wood littering the ground.

You chance a glance at Soobin. He really put up a fight, huh?

“How are your parents going to feel about you trashing their house?” you ask, going for a joke.

He responds with a cheeky grin. “Great, if I never tell them. I’m sure I can convince them to spend a couple winters in Jeju and they’ll be none the wiser.”

Whether or not he’s kidding, you can’t tell. The thought of his family owning yet another holiday home—in Jeju no less—is…strange. You think that if you try to comprehend just how rich Soobin is, steam would start coming out of your head. You personally had never travelled further than the places you’ve lived, let alone had houses purely for the purpose of visiting during specific seasons.

But this must be normal for him as he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Okay. Cool. You’re just going to assume that Soobin has a house in every major city of Korea at this point.

The two of you barely make it past the staircase, past Isa’s lifeless body that has since turned a ghostly pale yellow, when a voice yells from behind you, thick with malice and so raspy it sounds as though it ripped through their throat, “Soobin!”

Simultaneously, you and the boy in question’s heads turn, hands still clasped together, and come face to face with the seekers. Masks still donned with the same cloak they’ve been wearing all night, you wonder who is who.

One of them steps towards the two of you, and you surprise yourself by planting your feet firmly in place. “Soobin,” he says and with a chill down your spine, you find that it is, in fact, Yunho, his voice familiar to you after all this time. Why he’s decided to ditch the voice modulator, you don’t know. Your eyes narrow.

Next to him, Wooyoung practically seethes. Closing the distance between you, he stalks over, knife brandished like a sword, crying, “We’re going to fucking kill you—!”

BANG!

Wooyoung stops in his tracks. His head drops to the center of his chest where you notice a pool of red spilling through the cloak and spreading outward. At the same time he drops the floor to his knees, you turn to look at Soobin. With a gun in his hands.

ONE HOUR LEFT

Soobin gives you a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye. “Make them pay, right?”

You swallow, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. Right? That is what you said, this is what you wanted, but—fuck. He has a gun? Has he had one this entire time? He knows how to fire one? The knife pressed against your stomach burns against your skin.

Soobin doesn’t acknowledge your apparent discomfort, he doesn’t even look at you. Instead he watches Wooyoung clutch his chest desperately, blood seeping through his fingers. Watches Yunho rush to his friend’s side, distressed as he yanks off the mask from his face. Watches as his friend’s name falls from his lips in between a string of “no, no, no, no”s that sound something between a plea and a prayer.

He watches all of this impassively. His face barely twitches. He looks almost bored.

In the past night you have seen more people die and be killed than you would care to count, and yet, seeing the boy you’ve cared about for years put a bullet in someone so easily, without so much as a flinch, makes something ugly curl in your stomach.

Revenge is what you wanted, but something about this feels wrong.

Yunho crouches over Wooyoung and removes his friend’s face, brushing the shorter boy’s hair away from his forehead. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeats, a mantra as he rips off a piece of his cloak to press against the wound, over the sound of Wooyoung’s laboured wheezing. He turns to glare at the both of you, something heady and full of hatred. “What is wrong with you?” he cries out, voice thick with anguish.

You find yourself wanting to defend yourself, to tell him that you didn’t do anything, that you never knew Soobin would do that. But you stop when you remember that they hurt your friends, they hurt you; you have the wound on your your leg to prove it and—

Oh, god.

You’re going to be sick.

Masks thrown to the side on the bloodied floor, you can see their faces clearly. Soft light rises from outside as the sun makes its ascent over the horizon—Has it really been that long since this fucked up game started?—and casts a glow across their features. Their unmarred features.

You slammed a kettle of boiling across one of their seeker’s faces; you burned him. And yet, here they stand, skin as smooth as a baby.

Eyes blown wide, you exhale shakily, “It’s not them.”

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asks through a scoff. You take a step away from him, hands trembling at your side at your revelation.

“I-I hit one of them. Neither of them have any scars or anything. It’s not them. Soobin, they’re innocent.” He looks at you for the first time since firing his gun, one that is calculated, like he’s assessing you, and has his jaw clenching. He’s never looked at you like this before.

From the ground, Wooyoung laughs mirthlessly through gritted teeth, catching your attention. Blood spittles from his mouth and you wince. “You think this fucker doesn’t know that?”

Yunho nods in Soobin’s direction. “He’s the one who knocked us out and put us in these clothes to frame us and forced us to pretend to be seekers. He threatened to hurt that Beom—”

With a tired sigh, Soobin rolls his eyes and aims his gun at the two boys. “This is tedious.”

Two shots.

One through Yunho’s head and another to Wooyoung’s chest, right where his heart is.

The shots rings out in the expansive living room, reverberating in your ears. You think you flinch, but you can’t be sure. Not with how your body feels as though it’s been doused with cement. You can’t move.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?”

Your mind was spinning. Soobin just shot two people. Two innocent people. Two innocent people who just accused him of—oh, god, you can’t keep the bile down anymore.

You heave.

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe them. Those guys?” Soobin asks disbelievingly, waving the gun around like it’s like a toy and not a weapon that just killed two people.

“You shot them,” you say, arms shaking at your sides.

“Yeah. After they killed my friends.”

“I just told you they didn’t!” Your voice cracks around the last syllable and Soobin’s face softens. He takes a step towards you, arm reaching out for you, but you step back, putting as much distance between the two of you. “Don’t touch me.”

He tries to stop you by saying, “Hey, don’t be like that,” but you just shake your head, trying to wrap your head around the last few minutes, but you find that you can’t. Nothing makes sense.

Nothing about the boy you liked being a gun carrying murderer makes sense. Nothing about the weekend that was supposed to be a fun time with your friends turning into a bloodbath made sense. The whole situation was making your head and you were so tired.

You just wanted to leave and go home to your tiny apartment with your best friend and watch a movie and complain about your classes over beer. You wish Soobin never planned this stupid party in the first place.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

I planned this whole thing for you.

The room tilts, like the world has been shifted on its axis. Moments from the night start slotting together like puzzle pieces in your mind as you recall the way Soobin wanted you to hide together at beginning of the game, how he just so happened to find you after Sunghoon was killed, how even though he claims to have gotten into a fight with the seekers, he barely has a scratch on him.

How he killed Wooyoung and Yunho despite you telling him they weren’t the seekers.

That ugly thing in the pit of your stomach grows and spreads throughout your body wraps itself around your throat.

Tears prick your eyes, sick and disbelief clawing up your throat. “You…” The words lodge themselves under your tongue.

Soobin’s face morphs just then.

Gone is the look of boyish care you have grown so familiar with, that you have fallen in love with, and is overtaken by a smug, snakelike grin. The sight chills you.

He claps. Actually applauds as he looks at you with something akin to pride. “God, you’re so smart. I knew you’d get it, you know? I always believed in you,” he admits, awe lacing his voice. Checking his watch, he whistles. “And with forty-seven minutes to spare! Wow. Your intelligence is one of the things I like about you, you know?”

What the fuck was happening right now? Was he confessing to you? Right now?

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You were fucking timing me? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“For you, obviously.” He says it matter-of-factly and it gives you pause. “You know,” he starts, walking around the base of the stairs with the air of someone giving a seminar, “when I told the guys that I knew you’d figure it out, they didn’t believe me. I said ‘That Y/N? She’s smart, she loves riddles. She’ll put two and two together.’. But they were adamant that the stress of the situation would be too much for you to handle and you wouldn’t be able to think clearly, blah blah blah. Psych majors. You know how they are.” He says it like the two of you are in on a joke together.

You want to wring his neck.

“And I guess they were right, kind of, but you pulled through in the end. Just like I knew you would.” Soobin flashes you a smile that before tonight, would have left your knees weak, but now the sight just makes you angry.

The fact that he thinks you should be flattered that he apparently thinks highly of your deduction skills in a situation he orchestrated that ended with so many people dead makes you sick. He bet on you.

With the seekers, you think abruptly. It has to be.

Your mind works quickly, trying to figure out who they really are and you gasp at your revelation.

His smile widens and you have half a mind to punch it right off. “I think introductions are in order, don’t you?”

As though summoned, two dark figures walk towards the both of you from a secret door in the walls of the living room. The seekers. One of them pushes someone along roughly—Beomgyu, your brain supplies—, a knife pressed against his throat.

A wave of relief washes over you as you lock eyes. “Y/N,” he exhales, breathlessly, eyes raking over your body. “You’re okay.”

“So are you,” you nod, voice dripping with relief, then you wince. “All things considered.”

He chuckles at that. “I suppose it could be worse.”

“Shut up,” the seeker holding Beomgyu snaps, the same voice modulator that has been tormenting you for six hours crackles.

The other one regards you lowly, through the black eye holes of the mask they don. “Y/N!” they announce dramatically, but Soobin raises a hand to stop them.

“You can ditch the voice now, guys. She figured it out.”

“God dammit!” they curse, ripping the mask off in an angry huff. “I can never have any fun around here.”

Finally, the identities of the people who have made your night a living hell is revealed to you. The boys standing in front of you are two you have only seen in pictures, heard about through anecdotes, the who, up until six hours ago, you had so wanted to meet.

Taehyun and Kai. The fucking seekers.

“What the fuck?” Beomgyu curses incredulously, staring at the faces of boys he used to pass in the halls at school.

Earlier that last night Soobin had told you that his two best friends were away at a yacht party.

We were having so much fun but you just had to go and rock the boat!

Jesus Christ.

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, it clicks in your mind perfectly. You barely hold back a scoff. What a terrible clue.

Kai’s mouth spreads snakily across his face, in an unnerving imitation of a smile. “Hey, Y/N. Nice to finally meet you.”

You snarl.

Off to the side, Soobin is practically vibrating in place, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. “You figured it out, right? I was worried that telling you about the yacht party was too much of a throwaway comment and then there was the issue of trying to find a way for Kai to slip in something about a water or a boat—Have to thank you, Beomgyu, for that stunt you pulled. Really appreciate it.”

Your childhood friend physically recoils at that. Taehyun grunts and presses the knife against his throat deeper. Beomgyu winces.

Shaking your head, you turn and confront Soobin. “So what was the point of all this? You guys killed all these people for what?” A tremor goes through your hands so you ball them into fists at your side.

Soobin cocks his head to the side innocently. “For you, Y/N. You love game nights. You love riddles and puzzles and mysteries, so I came up with the biggest one just for you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Beomgyu exclaims. “You’re telling me that you did all of this, killed all of your fucking friends because you have a crush?”

Behind him, Taehyun shrugs noncommittally. “People who experience traumatic events together are inexplicably bonded for life.”

A beat.

“You were trying to fucking trauma bond with me?”

“You make it sound so simple,” he complains, waving the gun dismissively. “I made rules, people, there was structure. You know the order people died was the order they knew each other? Of course you did, you probably realised. But what you didn’t know is that Beomgyu—” he points the gun at him— “was supposed to go first. But you guys screwed it up! How the hell do you guys even know each other?”

“Your mom introduced us,” Beomgyu hisses defiantly. Blood trickles down his neck in response.

Soobin squints his eyes as if bored. “Real mature. Anyways, I saw you two talking in the kitchen at the beginning of the night so I had to do some emergency rearranging. So, in a way, Sunghoon dying first is kind of your fault. Granted, he would have died anyway, but, you know. Semantics.”

The same sweet boy who used to walk you to class and take you out for coffee after stressful exam weeks, the same boy who helped you out with homework and made you feel like the sun was bursting in your chest by smiling was the same one who hurt you, your friends. And he didn’t even feel an ounce of remorse for it.

“Fuck you,” you spit menacingly but you are just brushed off.

Soobin waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Plenty of time for that later. Now, we have to address the elephant in the room. The elephant, of course, being Beomgyu. Killing him now would mess up the order and I’m kind of a stickler for the—”

He doesn’t get to finish because out of the corner of your eye, Beomgyu elbows his captor in the stomach hard. Taehyun keels over, releasing him and you spur into action. Surprised, Kai takes a moment to recover before he is slashing at Beomgyu’s arm with his knife. Beomgyu hisses in pain, clutching his shoulder.

Rushing to Wooyoung’s body, pain flaring up your leg, you pry his knife from his fingers and say a silent apology in your head. “Beomgyu!” you yell. He turns to you and after a split second decision, you throw the knife in his direction.

Miraculously, he catches it by the hilt and, before you can blink, he’s lodged it in Kai’s throat.

The first seeker splutters, hands flying to press against the wound but it proves futile. Blood gushes from his neck like a burst pipe. Kai chokes as blood gets into his throat, coughing up red.

It’s a gruesome sight but it fills you with satisfaction, watching as he, too, succumbs to the same death he subjected your friends to.

Kai let's out a final wheeze before he falls to his knees, one arm reaching up to Beomgyu who watches on, face blank and chest heaving. Finally, Kai’s body goes limp and hits the floor with a thud.

“Well,” Soobin starts with a clap, turning to Taehyun, “guess I owe you that island.”

His friend grunts weakly, still recovering from Beomgyu’s assault. “You shouldn’t bet against me,” Taehyun admonishes when he rises to his full height.

Soobin nods sagely, chuckling. “I have learned my lesson.” Beomgyu steps back towards you and you reach for him instinctively. Soobin tracks the movement and something downright evil sparkles in his eyes. “Tell you what,” he says, addressing Taehyun, though his eyes never leave you and Beomgyu. “Do one more thing and I’ll throw in another.”

“An island?” you question incredulously. This was just getting ridiculous.

Taehyun shrugs. “It’s part of his inheritance. But now, it’ll be part of mine.” He stalks closer to the two of you causing you to back up to the stairs, nearly tripping over Isa’s body.

Knife pointed, he draws nearer menacingly. He’s after Beomgyu, you know. In some twisted form of logic you know that he won’t hurt you, not with Soobin right there.

Beomgyu tries to stand up straight but you can see the pain clear on his face as he clutches his injured arm. Taehyun grins at that, and lunges—

A wine bottle swings against his head from behind.

Taehyun’s body stills. He crumples to the floor in a heap of black fabric, head hitting the ground with a loud thud.

“Fuck rich people,” the assailant spits, chest heaving and your heart squeezes.

Lia.

She notices you and she lets the bottle drop from her grasp and the two run to embrace the other. All the tension you were holding in your shoulder eases, your body physically sagging against hers in relief.

You don’t even realise you are crying until damp spots start forming on her shoulder. Tears rack through your body at the feeling of your best friend in your arms, alive just like you believed she would be. Her grip around you tightens as she clutches the back of your shirt as though she fears you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“They attacked me in our room when I was grabbing my book, then tied me up and left me in the cellar. Told me that it wasn’t my turn yet. I tried to loosen them but whoever tied them used some kind of fucking boats knot. Broke one of the bottles and cut the rope with a glass shard—and my hand, too.”

It is her only injury, you note when the two of you finally pull apart. She has ripped off the left sleeve of her shirt and wrapped it around her hand as a makeshift gauze. It is stained with a giant blotch of blood but she’s alive.

She nods to Beomgyu appreciatively and he responds with a two finger wave. As she takes in the scene, all the blood and mess and bodies littering the floor, you see how her jaw tightens and eyes narrow. When they settle on Soobin, she spits in his face.

He recoils in disgust and wipes it away with—he’s got to be fucking kidding—a handkerchief from his pants pocket.

“You fucker,” Lia sneers.

He merely rolls his eyes. “Oh, great the band’s back together,” he drawls unenthusiastically. “There’s still twenty minutes left of the game, can we wrap this up?”

Aiming his gun between Lia and Beomgyu he pretends to ponder who he’s going to kill next. Lia stares him dead on, defiance dancing in her eyes and you have never been more in awe of your friend before.

“Y/N?”

Everybody’s heads whip around to the front door where Yeonjun stands in the threshold, confusion dancing in his eyes as he takes in the scene.

He came.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Soobin exclaims haughtily, arms going up in annoyance. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“The guy who called the cops,” he reveals, jutting out his chin as he walks towards you. “They’re on their way.” The last part is directed more to you than Soobin and you have never been more grateful to see a boy you just met.

“Good,” you say nodding, eyes narrowed as you stare down the boy you used to look at only in administration, “you’ll be dead before they get here.”

Soobin has the nerve to gasp in faux shock, clutching at his heart as though you’ve wounded him. “Okay, ouch. That’s hurtful, babe, how could you say that?”

“You tried to kill me. You made me think my best friend was dead.”

He holds up a finger to stop you and you have half a mind to slice it off. “Point of correction: I never tried to kill you. I would never hurt you, Y/N. I did all of this for you! I ruined my favourite holiday house for you! Now I’m stuck with Jeju and fuckass Tokyo. Do you realise how much I’m giving up for you here and you think I’m the bad guy?”

“You’re insane,” you say incredulously.

“Insane for you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, come on.” He sounds like a petulant child. Which, you suppose, is exactly what he is. “I killed for you! You think, what, fucking Beomgyu can say that? You think you’d be happy with some asshole from across the lake with a terrible dye job? No way, baby! I’m it!” By the time his spiel is over, his arms are outstretched on either side of him, chest heaving like he’s just ran a marathon.

Lia grimaces. “Did you just fucking quote Gone Girl?”

“Ben Afleck rents out his L.A. house to us, of course I did.”

“What the fuck, man?” Beomgyu expresses, face pinched.

“And this isn’t a dye job, dickwad, this is literally my hair.”

Your best friend turns to Yeonjun and stares like he’s an idiot. “Time and place, dude.”

“Y/N. Baby.” You feel yourself cringe at the pet name. He holds out his hands and takes a step towards you. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this.” Soobin’s voice takes on a sickly sweet lilt, one that would have had you melting if you didn’t find out he was a psychopath.

Thinking about your friends, a wave of protectiveness and a pang of guilt pass through you. They’re here because of you.

With determination coursing through your veins, you step forward. “You’re right.” Behind you, your friends all verbally express their shock. You ignore them. “This is what I want.”

Soobin’s smile drops into an ‘o’ shape as he inhales sharply. When he glances down at the space between the two of you, he is greeted with the sight of a knife—Yeonjun’s knife—sticking out his abdomen.

“Huh,” is the last thing he says to you.

“Go to hell,” is the last thing you say to him.

Hand still on the hilt, you withdraw the knife only to stab him again. And again, and again, and again.

Over and over until you lose count, you plunge the knife into his body, piercing his skin. Blood splatters all over your face and front but you don’t care. You are moving on pure rage at this point. Rage at this boy who turned your favourite thing in the world against you, who put your friends in danger, who has more money in his left pinky than you’ll ever see in your life.

Finally, you slow, and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head. His body falls to the ground and, for the first time since Sunghoon died in front of you, you smile.

A real, genuine smile spreads across your face as you turn to take in your friends.

“You look like shit,” Lia comments, her own grin growing on her face.

You lift a noncommittal shoulder, teeth bared. “You should see the other guy.”

Beomgyu laughs at that, hearty and full, taking over his whole body and the rest of you aren’t far behind.

Turning to Yeonjun, you find yourself growing shy. “You came.”

“I couldnʼt in good conscience let you walk into a murder house, now could I?” he asks with a tilt of his head and an easy-going grin.

You huff out a laugh and gesture to your blood covered body. “I’d hug you but I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“I don’t know,” he drawls, eyes raking over you appreciatively. Your skin flares wherever his gaze lingers. “I think the blood and guts is working for me.”

Somewhere next to you, Lia fake gags. “Oh, god, Y/N, your new boyfriend is gross.”

“Shut up, Lia,” you admonish without turning to look at her.

Yeonjun chuckles good-naturedly. “How about we reschedule that hug? Possibly after a shower. Preferably over breakfast.”

Feeling your cheeks warm, you nod. “I’d like that.”

“Great. I’m craving pancakes and I could use a hug, too.” You turn to see Beomgyu standing with a cheeky grin on his face.

There is a low grunt from behind you. Slowly rising to his feet is Taehyun having recovered from the wine bottle to the head. Steps staggering, he glares daggers at Beomgyu. “The only hug you’ll be getting is one from death. I’m getting that island—”

A bullet lodges itself in his head and he falls back, eyes blank. Soobin’s gun in hand, Lia stands with it aimed out in front of her.

You don’t even know when she grabbed it.

She exhales heavily. “I needed that.”

Despite everything, you laugh. “So. Breakfast?”

Everyone grunts in affirmation and starts talking over each other about where they should eat when they get back to the city. Obviously, you need to wait for the police to arrive so that you can give your statements. Someone needs to talk to everyones’ parents, let them know what happened. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. Together, of course.

Trauma bonded and all that.

#txt x reader #klibrary #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu reactions #beomgyu scenarios #choi soobin x reader #soobin imagines #soobin x reader #soobin reactions #soobin scenarios #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun reactions #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt reactions #🖇️ — ijhyo works.

[writingwhimsey]

Hi hi! I'm a new follower, and I can't wait to binge read all of your works 💗 but I wanted to request one shot Kanetsugu angst and slight spice. Maybe he could be observing MC training with Keiji and unexpectedly get jealous 👀 angry kiss? Idk I'm just throwing it out there 🤣 xoxo!

Hi! Thank you for the follow and for the request! I apologize for taking so long to get to this one, but I really had fun with it. It ended up getting a bit long. I hope you and everyone else enjoys this as much as I did writing it!

KanetsuguxMC

Slightly spicy, but nothing too bad.

Foolish

I stood at the gates of Kasugayama Castle, waiting to greet our guest. “Awe, are you my welcoming party, Princess?”

I smiled at Keiji as he approached the gate. “Yeah, everyone else is busy, so I volunteered to be your tour guide for the day.” I said. 

Keiji grinned as he threw an arm around my shoulders in that flamboyant friendly way of his. “Sounds good to me. Though I’m surprised Kanetsugu didn’t come with you.”

“He has a lot of work to do.” I replied, laughing at Keiji as I shoved him away. “He did say he was going to try and finish up early so he could join us for tea later.”

“Sounds like that ole sour puss.” Keiji said grinning. “Alright, show me a good time Princess!”

I laughed again and began to take Keiji through the halls of Kasugayama. “So, how’s everyone back in Azuchi?” I asked.

“Everything’s going pretty great.” Keiji answered. “If Lord Nobunaga hadn’t ordered it, Hideyoshi was gonna be here. He wanted to try to convince you to come back home.”

“I should probably write him more often. Let him know that I’m doing good and that Kanetsugu is taking VERY excellent care of me.” I replied, making that a mental note.

“He’d probably just assume you’re being forced.” Keiji replied. “He’ll be okay, though.”

“I hope so.” I replied.

We talked more as we walked around. When we arrived at the training hall, Keiji gave me a grin. “Hey, you been keeping up on your training?” He asked me. Sometime before I came to Echigo, I had begun spear training with Keiji and the new recruits back in Azuchi.

“Oh…well I don’t really get to practice that much.” I replied.

“Well, since I’m here why don’t we take the opportunity to brush up on your training then?” Keiji replied. “Be a fun way to pass the time.”

“Well…alright.” I agreed after a moment. “I just need to go change first.”

“I’ll wait here.” Keiji replied.

I went to mine and Kanetsugu’s room and changed into a light linen top and some “leggings” I had made for myself back when I was still in Azuchi. It was all specifically for training. Much easier to move in. I returned to the training room and Keiji and I both picked up some practice spears…which were just wooden staffs really.

“Alright, Princess, let’s see what you remember.” Keiji said, grinning at me.

Keiji and I started going through the stances. I was surprised by how automatically my body seemed to move. I guess muscle memory counts for something!

“Doing pretty good there!” Keiji encouraged me. 

“I’m surprised by how much I remember.” I replied, grinning. “Let’s see what else I can remember!”

“Haha! That’s the spirit!”

Kanetsugu…

Kanetsugu managed to finish up his work for the day…incredibly early for him in fact. He knew Keiji was coming and spending time with the Oda princess. While Keiji was his friend… he couldn’t help but to feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of his lover spending time so close to another man.

Kanetsugu took note of the time and headed to the room where the pair would likely be having tea…only to find that they weren’t there. One of the soldiers passing by. “Lord Kanetsugu, if you’re looking for the princess and Lord Keiji, they’re in the training hall.”

“What on earth are they doing there?” Kanetsugu asked.

“Spear training.” The soldier answered. 

“Keiji is showing off as always.” Kanetsugu muttered as he began to head towards the training hall.

The soldier started following him. “Not just Lord Keiji. The princess is pretty capable, too.”

Kanetsugu stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“The princess is training with Lord Keiji.”

Kanetsugu blinked. He recalled his lover telling him that she’d previously trained with Keiji, but she hadn’t seemed interested in doing that again or at least not that she’d told him. He had assumed it was something that had been thrust upon her by the Oda.

“Lord Kanetsugu…”

Kanetsugu mentally shook himself. “I’m fine.” He replied and then started marching off towards the training room, his pace may or may not have picked up a bit.

As he got closer, Kanetsugu could hear Keiji’s boisterous voice. “Your form is great, Princess.” Keiji said. “You sure you haven’t been practicing?”

“I guess it’s muscle memory.” She replied.

Kanetsugu picked up his pace, a frown instantly creasing his brow at Keiji complimenting her form…and just how pleased she sounded. He slid open the door and stepped inside the training hall. He saw his lover and Keiji standing beside each other, going through some stances with practice spears. 

His eyes couldn’t help but to notice the way his lover looked in a thin linen top and tight pants that were similar to the ones Keiji wore. Her hair was up in a bun, but strands were falling in places. Her skin was glistening with sweat from the exertion of the training, reminding him of how she looked after a passionate night in their shared bed. 

He didn’t like that another man was seeing her looking like this. Though perhaps what bugged him even more was the happy grin she was wearing as she looked at Keiji.

“What are you two doing?” Kanetsugu asked, keeping his tone cool and level. He would make sure no one could see the storm that was brewing beneath the surface.

Both turned to him, the smile on the Princess’s face becoming even bigger as she looked at him. “Kanetsugu!” She said, her voice showing she was happy to see him.

Keiji was grinning his usual smile. “I figured there was no way a workaholic like you would be finished in time to spend any time with us.” Keiji replied. “So I decided to see if the princess had been keeping up on her training.”

“I see.” Kanetsugu replied.

“Well, now that you’re finished we can go have tea.” The princess said. “I’ll just need to washup and change first.”

“No that’s alright.” Kanetsugu said. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was…curiosity perhaps to see this side of his lover, but his next words surprised him. “I’d like to stay and observe your training. I know you mentioned it before, but I didn’t realize it was something you had taken so seriously.”

A lovely flush came to her cheeks and a bashful smile graced her lips. She had no idea what that look did to him��what thoughts it put in his head.

Before she could speak, Keiji was speaking up. “Sounds good to me. And yeah, the princess here was my best student!” He was then patting a hand on her back…a far too familiar hand for Kanetsugu’s taste.

“Well, continue with your training then.” Kanetsugu replied, moving to a spot where he could better observe. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in an effort to hold himself in place.

“Alright, you heard the man!” Keiji declared. “Let’s get back to it.”

The princess smiled at nodded. “Alright!” She declared in a voice that showed she was determined and ready to go…though that slight flush remained on her cheeks.

Kanetsugu watched as the two continued to go through the stances and exercises. The princess did indeed have a good form. He was surprised to see how well she wielded the practice spear. She moved as someone who had trained for quite sometime.

“Alright, let’s see if you can remember some of the more advanced stuff.” Keiji declared leading her into another exercise.

She did well once again. Though Kanetsugu did notice one stance she had a bit of trouble with. Keiji as her trainor noticed this as well. “That’s good, but ya gotta move your hands more like this.” Keiji said, showing her where her hands should be positioned by demonstrating himself.

She nodded and moved her hands. “Here?” She asked.

“No, here let me help you.” Keiji replied, setting his spear aside and then moving to stand behind the princess. “First relax into it a bit more…” He said, a hand coming to her back and adjusting her posture. “Spread your feet just a bit wider, but not much…” 

As Kanetsugu watched this, he could feel the rage bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t care that this was for training purposes…another man was touching HIS lover…and right in front of him! He did his best to contain that rage.

“Alright now,” Keiji went on, his arms going around the princess and his hands resting on hers, “you’ll wanna move your hands here…” He was then sliding her hands along the staff into the proper position. 

Kanetsugu couldn’t help but to notice just how close Keiji was to the princess. Keiji’s head was even lowered so that his face was right next to hers…and she still had that flush on her cheeks. Was she liking this? He couldn’t stand it a second longer.

“I think that’s enough.” Kanetsugu declared.

Both Keiji and the princess looked at him, shocked expressions on their faces at the sound of his clipped tone. Keiji was then grinned as he pulled back from the princess. “Got it.” He said, clearly understanding what was going on.

The princess looked at him, confused. “Kanetsugu…” She asked, slowly lowering the practice spear.

Keiji was quickly taking the spear from her as Kanetsugu came over and took her hand in his. “Come on.” Kanetsugu said, tugging on her hand to lead her from the room.

“But…” She began to protest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up here, Princess.” Keiji declared.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll send someone to show him to his guest room later.” Kanetsugu told her.

“O…okay.” She replied and waved back to Keiji, who was just grinning at the two.

Kanetsugu led the princess out of the training hall and quickly pulled her into a deserted corridor. He moved quickly, pinning her against the wall and pressing his body to hers. “You foolish girl.” He muttered before claiming her lips in a hard kiss.

“Mmmnn!” She gasped into the kiss as she parted her lips for his quickly intruding tongue.

Kanetsugu firmly held her, his hands running over her body as he deepened the kiss. His lips parted from hers only to trail down the side of her neck…he couldn’t seem to control himself and his teeth were soon scraping her over her flesh, leaving marks. He wanted to mark her…to claim her.

“Kanet…sugu…” She gasped, her body responding of its own accord to his ministrations. He opened the collar of her shirt and allowed his lips and teeth to explore her collarbone and cleavage.

Kanetsugu pulled back, looking at her with a feverish need burning in his eyes. He could see her panting against the wall and his desire only seemed to grow. She was panting and sweating, her cheeks glowing and her eyes filled with desire and confusion, tears already seeming to glisten at the corners. Her clothes disheveled from his own work. He wanted more…and it was clear she would let him.

“Kanetsugu…?” She asked, her breathy voice filled with a mixture of confusion and desire and longing. “Wha…what’s…going on?”

Kanetsugu sighed as he leaned his head down, forehead coming to rest on her shoulder. “How else am I supposed to react to another man touching you?” He replied. “And even worse when you’re smiling and blushing at him…”

“Oh…” She gasped. She was then moving her hands to cup his face between them and forcing him to pull back and look at her. “So, you know Keiji is my friend and only my friend.” She began. “So yeah I was happy to see him and happy to work on training again…but the blushing…well that was…because YOU were watching.”

Kanetsugu blinked. “What…”

The princess now turned away, a bashful expression on her face. “Well, how else is a girl supposed to feel when the man she loves most in all the world is watching her? I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you…”

A gentle smile came to Kanetsugu’s face. He brought a hand to her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his. “We’re both fools.” He declared before capturing her lips once more.

She responded to the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. When they broke the kiss, she was smiling up at him. “I love you, Kanetsugu.”

“I love you, too.” He replied. He was then helping her to straighten her top back out. “Let’s get this fixed…I can’t have anyone else seeing you like this while we head back to our room.”

Her eyes widened. “It’s the middle of the day…”

“I don’t care. I can’t contain myself much longer…not after all of that.” He replied.

The princess smiled, her cheeks reddening but her eyes with desire. “Well…I’m not really sure I can wait either.”

Kanetsugu let out a groan. “When you say things like that…”

The pair worked to quickly straighten themselves out and were hurriedly making their way to their bedroom…where they wouldn’t leave until the next morning.

#ikesen kanetsugu #kanetsugu naoe #ikemen sengoku kanetsugu #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #whimsey answers #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #fanfic #ikemen series #otome boys #fanfiction #cybird #one shot #jealous kanetsugu

[andydrysdalerogers]

Attitude – Steve Rogers

Pairings: Steve Rogers x F! Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Song: Birthday Sex - Jermih

Summary: Its your birthday and Steve... well Steve forgot....

A/N: This one I wrote just for me.  A little smutty action for my readers on my birthday (5/3)  You’re welcome. 😉 😏

It would be that he would forget today.  His mind is on the mission, concentrated on defeating the enemy and making sure his team is safe.  Its not like he would do it on purpose. You make it possible for him to do his job but sometimes a little acknowledgement would go a long way.  He pursued you, after all.  You were just an analysis at the compound.  Tony brought you in from your position at a Fortune 500 company because you were brilliant.  And a party for the employees one night brought you to the forefront of Steve Rogers’ world.

It was like a fairytale.  He courted you, (yes, his words, courted), asked your father for permission to ask you to marry him.  Tony had been so thrilled that Capsicle had found someone to thaw him out that he paid for a fairytale wedding as well.  It was everything you ever dreamed of. Steve cried when he saw you walking down the aisle on your father’s arm, causing you to cry.  It was perfect.

But now, two years into it, you were just upset. Steve had acclimated to the 21st century.  He had a phone to remind him of everything but this, this is the one day he forgot.  So, you just took it in stride.  What else could you do?  The keys hitting the lock brought you out of your thoughts, going back to working on dinner.  Dinner that was supposed to be special, not made by you.  You shook your head as your husband walked through the door.  “Hey sweetheart.”

“Hi.” You saw him drop his bag by the door.  You tried not to get irritated.  He supposed to put the bag in the laundry room and empty it.  Be helpful, like you had asked.  But you were so hurt from his forgetfulness already that you had no fight in you.

Steve comes and kisses your head.  “Whatcha making?”

“Pasta.” You drop the noodles in the pot to cook.  “Ready in 10.”

“Sounds good.  I’m just going to change.”  He leaves the kitchen, and you mutter under your breath. “Sure, just leave your clothes everywhere.”  You finish up dinner and serve.

It’s a quiet meal with Steve unable to talk about the mission just letting you know that it was successful, and no one was seriously injured.  You hummed in approval and got up to clear your plate.  “Something wrong sweetheart?”

“Nope.”

“YN, you’ve said maybe five words since I’ve been home.”

“Just tired Steve. Tony assigned me a project and it just took the life out of me.  I thought… never mind.” You turned back to the living room where Steve’s bag was still in the entry way. Goddammit.  You grabbed the bag and hauled it to the laundry room. “Guess I’m just the maid now,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Steve was perplexed. You had never had attitude like this. You were sweet, loving, his princess.  He went to reach for his phone to call Nat to see if she had any insight when he realized his phone had been dead.  He remembered he hadn’t been able to charge it yesterday. He plugged it in and gave it a few minutes.  After it had enough charge, all of his messages and notifications came through.  And a bright red one was right on top.

TODAY: YN’S BIRTHDAY

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck.

He was completely and utterly fucked.  He forgot his wife’s birthday.  And then he remembered the bag he left at the door.  And the dinner you had made for him.  On your birthday.  

Ok, he is a dead man. 

Steve shot off a few texts, pleading with Nat to help him.  As soon as he had a plan, he went to get you. He got up and went to the laundry room.  He saw you there, swearing at him under your breath as you sorted his clothes for washing. He knew you were angry, but he had never seen you like this. One particular swear got his attention.

“He thinks I’m his fucking maid well he has another thing coming.”

“Want to run that by me again?”

You stopped and closed your eyes.  He had heard you. You turned around and glared at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

Steve’s eyes darkened.  “You might want to adjust the attitude princess.”

That set you off.  “And what the fuck are you going to do to make me?”

He stalked forward and you step back, fear now entering your eyes as you see the look on Steve’s face. “Say that again princess.  I dare you.” He wraps his thick fingers around your neck, applying just enough pressure to control you.

But it isn’t enough to stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “I said what the fuck are you going to do about it.”  A single tear falls from your eyes.  It was supposed to be your day.  Your birthday. And yet, here you were, fighting with your husband.

Steve doesn’t like to see you cry but at the same time he’s aroused with your attitude. He pulls you close. “I’ll fuck this attitude right outta ya, princess.” His Brooklyn accent comes out think and you feel yourself clench around nothing.  You move to close your legs but Steve blocks with his knee.  “Oh no, princess.” He spins you and bends you over the top of the washer machine. “Ya want ta be a brat, I’ll treat ya like one.”  He holds your back down as he unbuttons your jeans.

“Steve,” your voice trembles.  “What are you doing?”  He’s never been aggressive with you, never wanted to hurt you.  He was always gentle, and this new Steve was scaring you a bit.

“I want my princess back, so I think I’ll punish the brat out of you.” He gets your jeans and panties down, and he stares at your bare ass. He sinks down to his knees to lick your pussy from behind, listening to you mewl from the sensation.  “At least this part of my princess tastes the same,” he smirks.

“Steve, Steve, please,” you beg.  This is new, it’s all new and you love it.  Steve keeps going, swirling his tongue on your clit, your entrance, even your ass.  He stops only to lift you onto the machine so he can watch your face as he continues his assault.  He slowly adds a finger, and then another, stretching you open. “Oh fuck baby.”  He can feel you starting to tighten, and he stops. “S-Steve?”

“Bratty girls don’t get to finish.  Only my good little princess gets to finish.”  He smirks as he starts up again.  Its faster this time to build and he knows it.  He wants to tease you to the brink and give you the best orgasm for your birthday.  Then she can enjoy while he makes love to her.  That’s his plan.  At least for now.  He feels you tighten again, and he stops.

You let out a frustrated growl.  It’s your birthday and he’s edging you.  What kind of husband does that?  But of course, he doesn’t remember it’s your birthday.  He starts for a third time, and you think you might die if you don’t release.  “Please Stevie, please, I don’t – I don’t know if I can handle this?” The tears are real, the fear of this new Steve coming through. 

Steve stops and starts to pull away. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No! Please don’t stop! Please!”

Steve dives back in and thrusts his tongue back into you.  You grab at his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck! I’m so close.”

“Cum for me my princess. Let me drink you in.” Steve darts his tongue in and out and you are lost, blinded by the power of the most intense orgasm of your life.  You don’t feel Steve riding out your high or picking you up and putting you in bed.  But you do feel when he climbs on top of you and slowly enters. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to take it that far.” He kisses you softly as he thrusts gently.  He makes love to you slow, letting you enjoy every sensation.

He flips you so you are on top of him but doesn’t let you do the work.  He grasps your hips and slowly moves you up and down.  “You are so beautiful.”

One particular thrust has you seeing stars. “Oh Stevie,’ you moan, your head tossed back.

He rolls you back over so he can look into your eyes.  “I love you YN.  You are my whole world.” He reached down to pull your leg up and reached over to your clit.  “I want you to know how much I love you.”

“I do Steve I do,” you cried. You built up again closing your eyes.

“Open them princess. Please open them,” he begged. When they opened, he could see the desire for him, the love you had.  “Let go,” he whispered. With a long moan of his name, he watched as you cummed around his dick.  “That’s it, princess.  Squeeze me, use me. Oh fuck!” He released into you, riding it out until he could hear the squelching sounds slowed.

He kissed your forehead as he pulled out and went to grab a towel.  He cleaned you up as you were in your dazed state. He crawled back into bed with you and held you as you fell asleep. He kept his movements on your body soft as you slept.  A buzz from the nightstand made you stir but not wake.  Steve reached for his phone.  He smiled at the messages and decided it was time to wake you. He kissed you lightly on your lips. “Sweetheart?  Princess, it’s time to get up.”

“No.”

“C’mon princess. I wanna take you somewhere.”

“No.” You rolled onto your stomach and buried your head.

“Please?”

“No, its my day and I want to stay here.” Your muffled reply came with a quiet sob.

“Oh princess. I’m sorry.  I know I forgot.  Please let me make it up to you.”

You lifted your head. “Who reminded you?”

“My phone.  It died and when I charged it, I saw the reminder and…” he could see the tears forming, “I forgot. I shouldn’t forget but I did.” You rolled to your side, not wanting to look at him. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He held you close as you cried. “You’re my princess and I want to treat you like one. Please, my love?” You turned to him, and he kisses your nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble, burying your head into his chest.

“C’mon sweet girl, let’s get ready.”  He lifted you up and took you to the shower with him.  He washed you all over, taking his time but not letting you wash him. “I’m worshiping you today so out so I can wash up.” You pouted but went to your closet.  You pulled on your favorite red dress, the one that makes Steve drool.

Hair and makeup done, you walked out of the bathroom to see Steve’s mouth hang open.  “See something you like, soldier?”

“I, umm, Jesus, you are fucking beautiful,” he said, his eyes raking over you.  Now he just wanted to peel that dress off of you and keep you in bed.  But no, this was your birthday and he needed to make everything right. He placed his hands on your hips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  You reach up for a kiss.

“Hmm, I want to keep kissing you but we have to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise princess.”

Steve guided you to the other side of the compound.  Everything was dark.  “Steve?”

“Hold on, let me find the switch.”  The lights came on.

SURPRISE!

The team was there, streamers hanging, champagne glasses raised in your honor.  You gasp, holding your hands to your face. You look at Steve who is smiling big.  He pulls you close. “I’m sorry I forgot and I’m sorry I forgot about the bag.”

“Stevie…”

“Hang on.”  Bucky brought him two glasses and gave you one.  He cleared his throat.  “Everyone, thank you for coming together on such short notice to celebrate this woman right here.  She is the most patient, forgiving, loving, extraordinary woman I have ever known.  And tonight, I just want to celebrate her.” He raised his glass.  “To YN. Happy birthday!”

“To YN! Happy birthday!” Everyone clinked their glass as you had to turn your head to wipe away the tears. Everyone comes up to give you their wishes and hugs.  Tony has a cake brought out for you to make a wish.  Some music is played, and Steve takes you in his arms and starts slow dancing with you.

You start to feel guilty about all the effort made. “Stevie, I…”

“Don’t princess.  You deserve this and more. I love you.  And I promise, I’ll be better at being a good husband.”

“I guess I can be better at talking to you. I’m sorry for swearing at you.”

Steve pulled you in closer and whispers, “It’s ok princess but if I hear ya swear again, I have no problem fucking that attitude right outta ya. Birthday or not.”

You look up at his eyes and see that they are blazing. You smirk.

“I’d like to see you fucking try.”

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #captain america #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction

[fallingintoyourlilaceyes]

Xavier Thorpe asks fem reader on a date and they go together to weathervane pls

You got it anon! Thank you so much for the request <3

It´s a date then?

pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

synopsis: “It´s a date.”, that sentence has you smiling all the way till weekend arrives.

Xavier just has this kind of effect. Your friends had never seen you this happy on the other hand and actually start questioning if you are sick.

warnings: none, just fluff (maybe a bit of cursing)

word count: 0.9k

Stupid school work. You cursed to yourself as you browsed through the library in search of any helpful book to write that stupid essay your teacher had assigned. With the year coming to a close yours as well as probably anyone else’s motivation for school vanished into thin air. The whole school was ready for the Holidays. Nonetheless, feeling the leather backs of the old books under your fingertips, you concentrated on finding the one you needed. It got you so lost in thought you didn´t realize the other hand reaching for the same copy. The cold sensation of the slender digits bringing you back to reality.

“Oh, I´m sorry”, the apology fell from your lips fast.

“No, no I´m sorry. I guess I was lost in my thoughts too.”, looking up you now realized who was standing in front of you.

He had shown you the school on your first day. Well Principal Weems had assigned him to do so. You immediately had found him attractive and were kind of sad when your ways parted and your friend group naturally had distanced you a little from him. Still you could sometimes feel Xavier looking at you and you didn´t know if it was only because you sat in front of him or for some other reason. You told yourself it was just the place you were sitting in, secretly hoping for another reason. Now here he was standing in front of you, the touch of his slender fingers sending a tingly feeling through you and… oh shit he was looking at you.

“Oh fuck, I´m sorry I don´t know where my head is today.”, you apologized again talking your hand away from the book. “You can take the book, I´ll find another one.”

“Thank you. Are you writing that essay for Thornhills class too?”, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Yes. Well at least I´m trying to. Anytime I sit down my concentration goes completely out of the window.”, the two of you shared a laugh.

“Honestly, I kind of feel that. Um… thanks for letting me take the book from you by the way. How about…”, he threads his eyebrows together in thought for a second. “How about I´ll treat you for coffee on the weekend as a thank you? And so you can use it after… obviously.”

“Are you asking me out, Thorpe?”, now there is a smile taking over both of your faces.

“Maybe?”

“Because that actually sounds good. It´s a date then?”, you ask as you turn around.

“It´s a date.”, that sentence has you smiling all the way till weekend arrives.

Xavier really has this kind of effect on you. Your friends had never seen you this happy on the other hand and actually start questioning if you are sick.

The time you had agreed upon to meet arrives soon and together Xavier and you make way down into Jericho and to the weathervane, talking about anything and everything.

“Hey, Nevermore!”, Tyler greeted you the second you and Xavier set foot into an unusually busy weathervane. “The usual?”

You could feel your date tense up behind you at the nickname.

“Yes, please.”, you smiled at him before turning around to Xavier and letting the smile widen. “I´m gonna save us a seat.”

He gave you a small smile back before disappearing to the counter to finish the transaction.

In the meantime you claimed one of the booths, looking out the window onto the dreary little city this all seemed a little unreal.

“Here´s your coffee.”, Xavier tore you from your thoughts.

“Thank you”, looking back at him made you smile again. “I´m sorry if this is overstepping some boundary, but can I ask what you have against Tyler? You didn´t seem… happy to see him.”

“I think that´s a story for another day. Not exactly a happy one.”

“Alright…”, the silence that falls over you for a minute after that isn´t an uncomfortable one and you soon get back to your previous conversation.

You stay in the warm café until Tyler kicks you out and as you make your way back to school, walking close for warmth, you feel like you had known him since forever.

Unlike your conversation partner, the weather isn´t nice on you at all and so when the wind starts picking up, you can´t keep from freezing anymore. Damn you for wanting to look cute over trying to be warm. Looking over to Xavier you hoped he wouldn´t see ho cold you actually were, but as he continued talking he simply just took of his jacket to hang it over your shoulders. You had to quickly hold onto it as to not let it slip off your smaller shoulders, but the warmth his scent on it alone gave you was undeniable.

“´s that better?”, he asks with a chuckle.

“So much better. Thank you, but aren´t you cold now?”

“Don´t worry. I´ll survive feeling a little cold.”

Way too soon you reach your dorm room. He had insisted on accompanying you right in front of the door, to ´make sure you´d get there safe´ as he had put it.

There is another moment of nervous silence when you give him back his jacket, before you decide to just go for it and kiss him on the cheek before quickly wishing him a good night and disappearing behind the wooden door.

Pressing your hand over your lips, you lean against the inside of the now closed door. You have to suppress the urge to let out a squeal, too scared he might hear.

“I´m assuming it went well then?”, your roommate and friend asks with an amused look on her face.

You only nod, very aggressively, to answer her. Falling down on your bed dramatically you fall asleep with your make up and day clothes still on, but very happy, that night.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix one shot

[twjournals]

Forbidden Fruit |||

Warning: dark!criminal!Bucky Barnes x dark!cop!Steve Rogers x fem!reader, eventual non-con/dub-con, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, gun violence, violence in general

Summary: After some time away, the town's golden boy is back to reclaim his title and his girl. Unfortunately for him, trouble has followed him home.

Word Count: 2.7k

series masterlist

Since you had come in late, you figured it was only fair to make up for the hours missed by helping close the diner. It was quiet compared to how business roared during the day, and sometimes you preferred it to your morning shifts just to get away from the usual. That wasn't to say you didn't like your regulars, but certain people did put a damper on things.

You had just checked out the last of your customers for the night. The young couple shuffled out of the booth, leaving behind a few bucks for a tip before heading out the door. "Thank you, guys. Come back and see us." They threw their hand up on their way out.

You moved around the counter to their table, tucking the few bucks away with the rest of your tips and cleaning up the mess. Nat took the opportunity to lock the door and turn off the glowing open sign before anyone else tried to walk in.

It was always good feeling locking up because you knew you didn't have to serve anymore customers.

You raked off the dishes with a fork into the floor before taking the back to the kitchen for Pietro to wash with the rest of the dishes.

"Good news. This is it." You assured. He thanked you kindly before taking the last of the dishes. You returned to the table afterwards.

You often wondered how Wanda and Pietro made it through their shifts without bickering. Especially for as long as you had known them, but you guessed being on two separate ends of the building helped too.

"Freedommmm." Nat threw her arms up, earning a laugh from you and Wanda.

She smiled in response before plopping down in the booth with Wanda to help her fold up some silverware. You wiped down the table and seats while listening to them create small talk.

You glanced out the window at the dark street. Home wasn't far from the diner, but considering it was dark, it only had the walk seem longer. Even having known the people in the town as long as you had, you were fond of the idea of walking home in night.

"No, Nat. Seriously you should have seen him, I don't know what came over him. I've never seen Steve like that." Wanda attempted to talk quietly even though you could still her. Maybe in a busy restaurant she might have went unheard.

You peaked over the booth you were cleaning at them. By the way Wanda leaned closer against the table, you could tell she was trying to keep you from hearing.

"So he just broke the glass out of nowhere? No one knows what set him off?" Nat muttered.

God, they were awful at whispering.

"If you ask me, I think Steve saw her with that new guy." Wanda stopped folding, nearly leaning over the table.

"You mean the one with the long hair? Wears the gloves?"

"That's the one." Wanda confirmed.

You rolled your eyes and finished wiping down the booth before you stood up. "You realize I can hear everything you're saying?" You pointed out.

Nat's eyes widen at your words and Wanda stumbled over her own. "Hey- I wasn't saying anything bad. I just know anything to do with him is a sore subject."

You walked around the counter again to wash your hands in the sink. You glanced at her as you dried your hands. "I don't care who you talk about. I can handle hearing about my ex." You assured. It was the truth, for the most part.

You moved over to the register, opening it to count down your drawer. You sat the till on the counter and shuffled through the money, counting in your head.

Nat spoke up from her seat. "I can't be the only one who thinks he's been a little different since that new guy came around."

"Oh no, I thought so too." Wanda admitted.

I paused counting. "Bucky?"

They both look at each other smirking slightly.

You rolled your eyes when you noticed. "You guys are awful." You mutter and shook your head. What number were you even on again? Oh, right. And you start back where you left off.

"I mean does it not seem that way to you?"

You sighed. You were never gonna get this done. "He's a customer. I haven't even been out with the guy. He gave me one ride to work, and that was only because I was on the side of the road."

"I offered to send the guys." Wanda reminded you.

"I would rather die."

They both burst out in laughter and you laughed a little yourself. Maybe it was a bit dramatic, but you were partly serious. You didn't want to give your ex the satisfaction of saving the day after he was to blame for many previous ruined ones. Like he was some hero or something.

"But seriously, I would rather walk than have to be in the same vehicle as him. I don't need his help." You admitted.

"Fair enough." Nat nodded while she proceeded to fold up some silverware. "Bucky is so cute though. I envy you. I'm gonna need to pop my own tire on the way to work and see if the hunk comes to my rescue."

Wanda laughed and you rolled your eyes. "Hey, now. Wait for a shift with Y/n before you do that. Ya know, just in case he doesn't come."

"Or do you think I should get under the hood? I'm just trying to figure out the best approach."

You set the cash aside, throwing a rag at Wanda and making them both laugh harder. "Seriously the worst."

--

"You sure it's not a problem? I can walk if it is. It's not big deal." You asked as you, Wanda, Nat, and Pietro exit the diner. You stopped for a moment to lock the door.

"You know it's not a problem." She assured. Nat and Pietro said their goodbyes before parting ways to their own cars, leaving you and Wanda on your own.

"I have tomorrow off, so I should have my car back then. Hopefully it won't cost me an arm and a leg." You said as you walked with her the rest of the way to her car.

"It's not a problem. You know I'd give you a ride any day." She looked over the roof of her car at you and unlocking the car.

You smile while reaching for the door, pausing when you hear a car pulling in over your shoulder.

"Is it not obvious we're closed?" You commented, glancing over at Wanda who stared behind you before giving you a look. You knew that look. It was one you had been all too familiar with lately and you sighed. You heard the car door open and shut behind you before you turned to confirm your suspicions.

"Wanda." Steve greeted Wanda with a smile before his eyes finally fell on you. This was currently new for him. He was stepping up his game from keeping an eye on you at the diner to stalking you out in the parking lot.

He didn't greet you though; only stared until you shifted awkwardly under his gaze. What could he want at this time of night? You were just trying to get home.

"Wanda," Steve finally broke the silence. "Do you mind if I talk to Y/n alone for a moment?"

He glanced at her over the roof and she looked at you for an answer. You gave a small nod before Wanda climbed into the car.

Steve didn't say anything, but you could tell he was searching for the words to say. You leaned back against the side of the car with your eyes on the pavement as you listened to the crickets.

"If I asked you a favor, would you listen?" He finally said.

You pulled your eyes to meet his. They were already staring at you, but you were almost positive they had been this whole time.

"What?"

"If asked you to do something for me, well for yourself really, would you listen to me?" He tried again.

You stare at him for a moment, watching him moving to lean beside you. So close if it wasn't for the inch between you, your arms would've been touching. "I'm sure I can guess what this is about."

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't think it was serious."

"I'm sure."

He didn't have to say anything for you to know where this conversation was going.

He shot you a look. "I just don't get a good feeling about this, Y/n. I can tell you guys are getting close, and if I'm being honest I don't think Bucky is a good person."

You knew that was coming, but who was he to tell you who you could befriend? "Do you know him?"

"No."

Because that makes perfect sense, right? "Have you talked to him before?"

"No." He answered again.

Your patience was starting to run thin already. Steve was the same guy who proposed to you, only to realize after some time this small town life would never be enough for him. Now here he was asking you to stay away from a man you hardly had anything to do with aside from serving him.

"I don't understand you." You shook your head in disbelief. "This is my job, Steve. He's a customer and I can't stop him from coming here just because you're unhappy. And here you are telling me about this feeling you have toward him, but you can't tell me a thing about him that makes him a bad person. Can you tell me how that makes sense?"

You moved off of the side of the car to face him.

He opened his mouth slightly, trying to figure out what to say. "I can't explain it. I really just need you to trust me." He looked down.

You stared at him in disbelief. "No."

His eyes shot up.

"I'm not going to just trust you, because I remember where that got me."

"I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry. All I've done is apologize since I've been back. All I'm asking is this one simple thing. Just stay away from him. If all you do is serve him, I don't see why it would be so hard for someone else to take his table." Steve pushed off of the car, standing just a step away.

"So because he's new to town, that means he's dangerous? Oh Heavens, why is anyone serving him then?" You gasped dramatically, putting your hand on your chest.

He ran his finger through his dark blonde hair, pushing it off of his forehead in frustration, pacing slightly in front of you. "I am trying to protect you."

"I can take care of myself. I don't need you to protect me, Steve." You argued back. He had some nerve asking anything from you after everything he had put you through. You finally rolled your eyes, pushing past him to the car. Fuck him and fuck whatever he was feeling.

You paused when you opened the door. "You know what that feeling is, Steve? That's a realization. Not some bad vibe, it's the realization that Bucky is probably better than you'll ever be."

His jaw ticked in anger, watching you starting to get in the car. "I'm just doing my job."

You held onto the door, turning to look at him. "You want to do your job, go patrol and stop stalking me."

He wished he could explain how wrong you were. He wished he would tell you that the real reality of things was nowhere near your bullshit assumption. Bucky was dangerous, and he still is.

Steve stood in the parking lot even after Wanda was driving away.

Why did you always have to be so damn stubborn? He stared after the car until the lights disappeared over the hill.

His thoughts were interrupted by slow clapping and his hand shot up to rest on his gun, staring in the direction the sound was coming from until a shadow slowly moved from the dark.

"I've gotta say, you put on one hell of a show." Bucky chuckled while he lifted his hands for Steve to see them.

"What are you doing here?" Steve demanded, his hand slowly curling around the gun on his side.

"Moving on. Is that not what we agreed on?" Bucky responded innocently. " But ya know it doesn't look like you're doing much of that." He pointed out while he stepped one foot in front of the other.

Steve pulled his gun from the holster, pointing it right at Bucky but his smirk never lessened.

"Oh come on, Rogers. Is that any way to greet your partner?"

"Oh sorry. Go to hell. Is that better." He spat.

Bucky threw his head back with an amused laugh. " Funny, I thought I was already there. I mean the way you trash talked this town, I expected worse honestly. But I see why you came back." Steve narrowed his eyes. "The whole uniform, the fancy squad car, even a gun. This town must really take kindly to criminals." He gestures toward Steve.

He clenched his jaw. Just pull the trigger. He told himself. It would solve everyone's problems.

"Oh..." Bucky started to bring his hand to his mouth, acting surprised. "They don't know, do they?" He tilted his head.

Steve took the gun off of safety so Bucky knew he wasn't playing around. Nor was he going to feed into his bullshit. He stepped closer to Bucky, pointing the gun right at his head. At this point, he didn't care who saw if anyone did.

"Go on." Bucky encouraged. "Pull the trigger. We both know you can. Let's just hope you have the plan this time. This is a pretty public place, Steve. I mean between someone seeing, all the blood you're going to have to clean up, an explanation for my disappearance. How about my body, Stevie? How do you plan on getting rid of my body?"

Steve was gritting his teeth so hard he was amazed they weren't broken.

Just do it. Fuck! Just fucking do it.

No, he's right. You'll never get away with this. Not here.

"Do it!" Bucky raised his voice. He wished he could, but he couldn't. Like he wasn't already regretting every mistake he ever made after Y/n, but he was really regretting ever befriending Bucky. If he had been on his own, it wouldn't have took long for him to come back home. Everything would have fallen back into place and Y/n would have eventually forgive him for ever leaving. Steve slowly released the gun, putting it down. "Pussy."

He knew it would be in his best interest to keep his hands to himself regardless of how hard he wanted to punch Bucky, just to knock the fucking smile off of his face. And maybe if he was lucky break a couple of teeth. He slowly put his gun back in the holster.

"She makes you soft." Bucky realized. Steve lifted his head to look at Bucky. "That's her, isn't it? That girl you always talked about?"

"Bucky." He warned. "If you touch her, I- I swear to God-"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "We've shared before. What's the difference?"

Steve couldn't stop himself from grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket, bringing him nose to nose with him. "Stay away from her."

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk.

"I'm so fucking serious. Don't lay a hand on her. This wasn't apart of the deal."

"Oh, fuck the deal, Rogers. You left me in the dirt while you alpha it up here playing the town's hero. If you think for a second they would have gave you that badge knowing you're a fucking murderer. If it wasn't for me, none of this would be possible for you. Don't you see that? That golden boy reputation gets you everything. But it doesn't get you her." Steve's fists were clenched around his collar, the corner of his lip twitching in anger.

"Bucky-"

"Shut the fuck up." He growled before shoving Steve off of him hard and causing Steve to stumble over his feet a little before regaining his balance. Steve felt defeated. All he wanted to do was get his life together and move on, but Bucky just had to follow him home. "Do yourself a favor and stay out of my way."

tag: @cynic-spirit @naniky @mrsbarnesx @mansaaay @caramelcandescence@candy3002 @onlyjamesbarnes @quethekillerqueen @siriusjohnpotter @empath-bunny @cjand10 @burnoutbo @galacticyearning @lou-la-lou @kvzctam @jevans2

#dark!steve rogers #dark!fic #dark!bucky barnes #dark!marvel #dark!Steve Rogers x you #dark!Steve Rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x y/n #dark!Steve Rogers x y/n #dark!stucky x you #dark!stucky #dark!stucky x reader #dark!stucky x y/n #forbidden fruit