#i think it’d be funny if i did come out got black out drunk and straight did not know i came out till

[lilgynt]

getting drunk is genuinely a struggle of not telling my brothers how much i love them

#personal #i can text gg ad audrey how much i love them whenever tee hee #sorry that seems random but i go on brother loving rants #then hit the group chat with obviously i also love you #but i can say that WHEVENEF #will ONLY be called a faghot but that’s fair #ben and frank.....hit that i LOVE you guys only when drunk drunk..... #anyway.... #also wanting to come out but that’s a whole different issues #i think it’d be funny if i did come out got black out drunk and straight did not know i came out till #like a day later #like #i’m sleeping and my phones blowing up like hello????????! and i’m #like hm. sleepy time good bye

[athenamikaelson]

Worried

Kol Mikaelson x Daughter!Reader

Word Count- 1.5k

Warnings- Swearing, underage drinking, Kol being a little jerk

Request- i was wondering if you can write a kol x daughter!reader where the reader goes to a party and tries to sneak behind kols back but he finds out then also figures out she has a boyfriend!

“Dude, are you sure your dad won’t mind?” Lulu said from beside you.

“Ya. I mean mom’s on some witchy retreat and Dad’s losing his mind without her, so I just told him I’m hanging with a couple friends.” Lulu gave me a nervous stare.

“Don’t worry about it, ok. What’s wrong? You think he’s going to find out and then eat you?” She gives me a death stare as she rolls her eyes.

“Bro. You aren't human here.” I just laugh and nudge her shoulder.

“It’s going to be ok. Alright?” Lulu just nods her head, “Now let’s get to this party!”

Walking into the house I’m met with the overwhelming smell of weed and B.O. My eyes graze over the crowd of people in the living room dancing. Well, if you want to call it dancing, as it looks more like a bunch of pubescent teens groping each other.

“Hey guys!!!” I turn around to see Lulu’s girlfriend Molly. Her short black hair, and clothes are messed up, which I can guess is from the dancing she’s been doing all night. The party invite originally came from Molly. Lulu is the type to rather stay in and talk about the long term effects of teenage drinking, while her girlfriend is the type to be the one drinking. How they found each other is still a surprise and mystery to me. But I’ve never met a couple more made for each other. Other than my parents. Or Aunt Hayley and Uncle Elijah. Or Aunt Beks and Uncle Mar. Ok, and Aunt Keelin and Aunt Freya.

“Took you guys long enough to get here!,” I can smell the alcohol on Molly’s breath as she yells in our faces. “Come on, let's go get drinks!” Molly quickly grabs our hands and starts dragging us but I pull back.

“You guys go ahead, I’m going to go find Y/BF/N!” Molly just gives me a drunken thumbs up with her empty hand and a big smile. While Lulu mouths, “be careful.” Which I just return with a smirk. When am I ever not careful? I stood there a moment thinking and realized why she would get worried. I just shrug my shoulders to myself as I push past the kids around me trying to find my boyfriend.

“Y/N!” A voice sounds over the loud music behind me and I turn to see Y/BF/N. A large smile comes onto my face as I walk over to him. As I get to him he opens his arms and welcomes me into a large embrace.

“I didn’t think you were going to show.” He says as he lets me out of his arms and moves his hands down to the sides of waist.

“Well the way Lulu kept looking at me, I didn’t think I’d end up making it either.” I slightly laugh as I look over and see Molly dragging Lu to the dance floor, and I quite literally mean dragging. Lu looks like she’d rather be staked in the heart than be here. But we both know that as much as she hates parties, she loves Molly more.

“And what about your dad? Is he ok with this?” I just roll my eyes at the fact that even though he doesn’t know what my dad truly is he’s still terrified of him.

“Yes, he’s fine with it.” I told him. I’m about to ask him if he wants to grab a drink but seeing the way the smile on his face drops when he looks behind me, I quickly turn around to meet the dark brown of my father’s. And instantly my heart drops in my chest.

“No he’s not fine with it.” My dad says as he gives a death stare to Y/BF/N. I turn to see Y/BF/N practically shitting bricks. His hands were long gone from my waist.

“Um, hello Mr. Mikaelson. My names Y/BF/N. Y/N has told me a lot about you.” My dad's eyes trail up and down his body and I can practically see the smoke coming from his ears.

“Well isn’t that funny? Because I haven’t heard anything about you.” I go to interject but he stops me with a glare.

“Y/N, we’re leaving. Let’s go.” I wanted to refuse but by the way people are starting to stare. I think it’d be a better idea to get the pissed off Original away from a crowded room of people. I quickly apologize to Y/BF/N and follow my dad out the door.

As soon as we get to the end of the driveway I turn to my dad.

“What the hell was that dad?” I yell. My dad looks at me with an incredulous look.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N? First I find you missing from your friend's house and then Rebekah tells me that she helped you do your hair for some party! So I find a party full of drunk teenagers and find some hooligan grabbing my daughter!”

“That hooligan dad was my boyfriend! And you practically just scared the living shit out of him back there. And not even mentioning how embarrassing it is for my dad to come and pick me up from a party surrounded by all my friends!”

My dad just rolls his eyes as he walks to the driver’s side of the car.

“Get in.”

I just scoff as I start walking away.

“Where are you going Y/N?” My dad yells from behind me.

“I’ll walk home.” I hear the car door slam and wait for the car to start but am surprised when my father appears in front of me.

“So you’ll walk home in the dark. Where you could possibly get eaten. But, you won’t get in the car with your father?”

“Yes,” I walk around him and continue walking, “and also I’m a witch I can protect myself.”

I continue walking and don’t hear my father until I hear a huff and footsteps.

“Well, if you’re walking then so am I.”I just ignore him and keep walking.

Fifteen or so minutes have passed since we started walking and I haven’t said anything to my dad. Which I can tell is getting to him. I may be the daughter but he’s the child in this family. And when a child is ignored, they get bratty.

I watch as my dad picks up the stick in front of him and turns to me. I narrow my eyes as he points the stick at me.

“Listen here girly, I’m going to give you two choices. Either you answer me or I’ll use the stick.” I just roll my eyes at his behavior and keep walking.

I start to walk a few feet when I feel something hit my calf. I whip around and see my dad looking up to the sky with a sly smirk on his face. The stick is being held behind his back. I just shake my head and keep walking.

Maybe 20 seconds go by before I feel the stick poke itself on my back. The only difference when I turned around this time was that my father wasn’t hiding the fact that he was the one poking me. I looked me dead and in the eyes and took the stick and placed it only on my head. I just stare at him, I’m not going to give him the benefit of knowing he can make me laugh.

I just keep walking, which I notice gives my dad even more motivation to get me to break.

“Do you want to hear about the time your Uncle Nik got his ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers?” I just sigh and keep walking.

“Or how about the time your dad embarrassed his daughter in front of all her friends and pissed her off?” I just sigh.

“Ya I think I’ve heard that one before.” I say as I stop.

“Did you hear the part where your dad was really sorry and only did it because he was scared when he couldn’t find his daughter. And the thought that the person he loves the most in the entire world might be in danger makes him feel like he’s being daggered all over again.”

I turn to my dad to see him staring at me. I look at him sadly before wrapping my hands around him in a hug.

“I’m sorry dad.”

I feel his arms wrap around me tighter and he presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m sorry too, kid. I may be a thousand years old. But this parenting thing might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m sorry Dad, for not telling you. I didn’t realize you would be so scared. I’m sorry that you have to worry about me.” My dad's eyebrows furrow as he looks at me.

“Hey, don’t ever apologize for that. I’m your dad, it’s my job to worry about you. And I wouldn’t change that for the world. I love being your dad. And I love you.” I hugged him again.

“I love you too dad. And if you wanted to, I’d really like to hear that story about Uncle Nik getting his ass kicked.”

@daylightmikaelson

#kol mikaelson icons #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #theoriginalsimagines #the vampire diares imagine #thecwshows #the originals #the vampire diaries #elijahmikaelsonimagines #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #tvd x reader #rebekah mikaelson

[sluttywonwoo]

masked intentions || lc x reader

summary: you and chan decided to pick out each other’s costumes for a halloween party, but he thinks it’d be funny to switch out your real costume for something a bit more scandalous 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, suggestive content (18+) 

word Count: 1.4k

a/n: reworked this piece originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

masterlist + ko-fi

You’d wanted to do a couples costume, but Chan reasoned that it was “unoriginal” and “overdone”… you were pretty sure he was still bitter over losing the couples costume contest last year after you’d just started dating, but you weren’t about to argue (you two really should have won- but that wasn’t the point). Instead, he suggested that you pick costumes for each other and be surprised with them on the night of Mingyu’s party.

Even though you were hesitant at first, it had been admittedly pretty fun to put Chan’s Halloween costume together. You knew he loved the movie Atlantis so you collected everything he needed to be the perfect Milo Thatch, right down to the messenger bag.

But evidently… Chan did… not put as much thought into your costume. The only word that came to mind as you held it up to your body was… stripper. It was a black, strapless, silk-looking body suit coupled with sheer tights and a pair of unmistakable signature rabbit ears. Complete with a black bow-tie and everything. A playboy bunny. Classy.

Chan was lucky he had to be at Mingyu’s early to set up or else you’d be throttling him right now. He’d left a sticky note attached to the costume where he’d laid it out on the bed too that read: can’t wait to see you tonight ;) scrawled in his handwriting.

You took a deep breath and threw the clothes lingerie back on the bed. Sure it was Halloween, aka the sluttiest holiday of the year, but couldn’t Chan at least pretend to keep it in his pants?

You had put so much time and effort into his costume and he comes up with this basic ass bullshit? Yeah, you were fucking pissed. You whipped out your phone to text him.

-are you fucking kidding me??

-wym

-what the hell is this costume

-oh! you like it?? ;)

-what do you think? do you really want me to show up to gyu’s in this?

-no lol that’s for… later tonight. i have your real costume here at mingyu’s place just thought it’d be funny to let you think it was your costume

You wanted to scream in frustration. The party was starting soon and you were supposed to, what? Show up without a costume in your normal clothes? You weren’t about to be that person.

If Chan thought he was so funny, then you could be hilarious. Without wasting anymore time you slipped into the tights and the bodysuit, smirking at your reflection in the mirror. The tight fabric did an excellent job of hugging your curves and it pushed up your cleavage perfectly. The way the costume ended up fitting put your entire ass on display, not that you were complaining. Go big or go home, baby.

Makeup and hair was easy after that. A bold red lip and dark eyeliner was all it took to make you look the part. You put the ears on and took one last look in the mirror. You were ready.

The party was already in full swing once you finally got there. People were scattered out in the front yard, half naked, fully drunk. You smiled at some familiar faces as you passed, feeling your cheeks get warm when you heard whistling behind you. In any other circumstance, you’d feel embarrassed about being dressed like this out in public, but the anticipation of seeing the look on Chan’s face was making it all worth it.

It was so crowded inside that you could barely squeeze past the front door, nearly tripping over a pile of shoes as you did so. The room was warm from so many people dancing so close together, and the sticky feeling of bodies pressed against yours as you slowly made your way through the masses was making you start to regret your decision.

You looked for Chan, but it was hard to see over the crowd. You spotted Mingyu over by the bar in the kitchen though, so you figured that was a good place to start.

“Damn, y/n,” Mingyu mused once you finally reached him, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. “You should wear that more often.”

You rolled your eyes, but ultimately returned the grin. “You like it?”

“I’m not even going to pretend like I don’t.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you quipped back, with a nod of approval at the sexy shirtless firefighter thing he had going on. The neon cargo pants and suspenders combo was really doing it for you. “Make me a drink?”

He was more than happy to, and hopped over the counter to mix you something strong and fruity. You leaned against the bar casually as you waited, still scanning the sea of people for any sign of Chan. Occasionally people who weren’t your boyfriend caught your eye and sent you a wink or a ‘sup from across the room and you had to admit, the attention was definitely boosting your confidence.

Mingyu returned with a drink in hand, your name scribbled across the orange solo cup in black sharpie. You thanked him for it and took a sip, trying not to make a face at the overpowering taste of tequila.

You chatted with Mingyu for a few minutes more before he had other host duties to tend to and left you to fend for yourself. You had no other choice than to mingle after that- it was either that or stand awkwardly by yourself in the kitchen until Chan found you.

And eventually he did find you, but you weren’t alone by then. Quite ironically a guy who was dressed up like Hugh Hefner (there were several) was chatting you up when he finally saw you from the other side of the living room.

You caught his eye and forgot- just for a second- why you were so pissed at him. He looked incredible in his costume, with his hair quaffed just right and the fake set of round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looked perfect.

But you were quickly brought back down to earth when you heard ‘Hugh’ ask if you wanted another drink.

“She’s good, thanks.” A familiar voice rung in your ears followed by a hand on the small of your back. When the guy didn’t budge, you felt Chan stiffen next to you. “That means you can fuck off now.”

“What was that for- we were just talking!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face your boyfriend.

For the first time that night Chan got a proper look at you in your costume and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. You couldn’t help the surge of pride and victory you felt as you watched him go through the five stages of grief at once.

“It was not just talking, trust me.” He was speaking in an even tone, but his voice wavered just the tiniest bit, making you weak in the knees. “I saw the way that asshole was looking at you, same way everyone at this fucking party is looking at you. Like they want you.”

You shrugged. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for that, babe.”

“You weren’t meant to-“

“I wasn’t about to show up without a costume. I didn’t want to be lame. You were supposed to leave it at home for me.” You were half teasing him, half telling him how you really felt. You were still pretty pissed with him to be honest.

“Whatever, I’ve got your real costume in Mingyu’s room, let’s go get it.”

“Nah, I think I like this one you picked out. Seems to be a crowd favorite.”

Chan looked over your shoulder and made eye contact with a guy that was shamelessly staring at your ass. “Yeah, wonder why that is.”

You watched Chan’s eyes get dark as he smirked down at you. “C’mon,” he urged with a nod back towards the hallway. “Let’s go.”

“Chan, I’m not changing right now, I’m serious.”

“I know, I don’t want you to.”

You blinked like you hadn’t heard him right. “What?”

He leaned in closer so that he could whisper in your ear. “I’m going to take you into that bathroom, pull that stupid costume to the side, and fuck you so hard up against the mirror that you’re seeing stars. I want people to hear you moaning out my name as I push you over the edge. I want you to look so fucked out, so… satisfied afterwards that everyone knows how good I make you feel, how I’m the only one that can make you scream like that because you’re mine.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @hotgirlmingyu @hotgirlvernon @myunghoehoehoe @haven-cove 

send me an ask to be added/removed from a taglist

#masked intentions #lee chan smut #lee chan x reader #lee chan x female reader #lee chan x fem reader #dino smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

[rebeccccccaaa]

IᑎᖴᗩTᑌᗩTIOᑎ

_________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Hiya! Could you do smth where the reader is masturbating in her room thinking about Bucky. When then Bucky sneaks in your room hiding from Sam chasing him, he hears you moaning his name and gets flushed but instead of leaving he decides to help you out and show you that the real thing is better than imagining it ? :)) and maybe his POV too ? ☺️ thank you dear. I’d really crave some soft Bucky smut atm.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Smut!! Minors dni plz, fluff, soft!dom bucky

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: thanks for the request; this was supposed to be a blurb but it’s like three thousand words omggg i can’t stopp nfviuapfgvaioufv

___________________________

“Where is he?” Sam grabbed the counter and shouted startling the people gathered in the kitchen. Steve spilled his coffee, Wanda threw her apples, and Tony choked on his cereal milk coming out of his nose.

“Who!” Steve said angrily. 

“Buck!” Sam growled. 

“We don’t fucking know!” Tony yelled as Pepper cleaned him up with a napkin. Sam bolted out of the kitchen down the hall scanning for the soldier.

“Where are you, you fucking metal-armed freak!” he screamed. 

Bucky on the other hand had slipped easily past your door; just barely cracking it to see an angry Sam Wilson stomping through the hall in search of Bucky. What for? Well, Sam has this fear roaches; he hates them, absolutely despises even the thought of a cockroach.

Bucky printed and cut out the silhouette of a huge cockroach and taped it to the inside of Sam’s bedside lamp so that when he sticks his hand under the shade, he’ll see the fake roach and hopefully scream in terror; well that was more than successful. Now Sam wanted to beat the shit of him for ruining his morning. 

Sam was soon out of sight and Bucky breathed out a breath of relief closing the door completely; locking it just in case Sam tries to come into your room looking for him. You and Bucky were very close, almost too close as Steve would say. He was found with you in your room a lot, whether it’d be playing video games, or eating lunch while watching TV, or listening to music that Bucky missed out on. 

He was in your room a lot so he knew you wouldn’t mind the unexpected visit. After you knew about his little prank; you would die of laughter if he told you about Sam’s reaction. Before Bucky turned around, he heard you.

“Buck,” you breathed out. 

Bucky’s brows furrowed and when he turned around…

“Holy shit.”

ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ

“He’s gonna kill you,” you grinned at Bucky. He sat next to you with a pair of scissors in hand cutting out the black silhouette of that god awful roach.

“So worth it,” he smirked. 

“You didn’t answer my question though, doll. Why are you up so early? Pretty girls like you need their beauty rest,” he nudged your arm with elbow, making you roll your eyes.

“I just couldn’t sleep. Was tossing and turning all night,” you told him. 

“You know my bed is always available for cuddles that'll put you right to sleep,” he winked at you.

“You wish,” you retorted.

“Every night,” he said, making you feel shy. 

Bucky smirked to himself knowing how his words affected you. It was no secret that was deeply infatuated with you; but you always declined his advances and he respected that always. But that didn’t mean he stopped his endless flirting; never failed to make you laugh.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiled at you.

“Shut up, Buck,” you shook your head, “I’m gonna head back to my room; try and get some shut eye for at least twenty minutes. Let me know how your little prank goes.”

“Will do.” 

You shut your bedroom door and crawled languidly into your bed. You close your eyes and in doing so you’re met with those gorgeous cerulean blue eyes that haunted you every night. You immediately pop back up.

Goddammit, Bucky. 

Fuck you and striking eyes. Fuck you and your perfect nose. Fuck you and kissable lips. And strong arms. And your hands, oh your hands… Stop!

Your body erupted into goosebumps and your stomach fluttered just at the thought of him. Fuck the things you’d let him do to you. Why haven't you, you ask? Well he asked you on a date and thinking it was some sort of bet with Sam, because men are assholes and it wouldn’t be the first that happened, you kindly declined. 

The next day, Sam and Steve both said they didn’t know he was gonna ask you and had nothing to do with it. So you bolted to Bucky’s room only to find another woman curled to his side in his bed. 

“Y/n,” Bucky’s eyes were wide with guilt. 

“Hey, uh- I uh, I just wanted to ask um- what you wanted… for breakfast. I’m buying,” you breathed out a nervous chuckle. 

“I’m ok-” As soon as you heard those words you bolted out of his room hearing him call your name. You weren’t particularly pissed off, or enraged but it kinda hurt. 

Since then however, you don’t think you have seen Bucky even talk to another woman; even at one of Tony’s galas. And he always flirted and joked with you, even more this time than before. You weren’t going to lie, you both loved it and hated it. It gave you confidence while also ruining your panties with just a smile. 

Speaking of ruined panties.

You tossed your sheets over and shimmied out of your pajama bottoms. You took your panties off too pulling one side back to shoot it into the laundry basket since those were going to be in desperate need of a wash. 

You licked your fingers before pressing them against your burning pussy. You bit your lip stifling your moans as you circled your clit. You imagined Bucky’s hand instead of yours and you imagined him whispering dirty things in your ear. 

Your other hand went under your shirt and kneaded your breast softly. You clenched your thighs together approaching your orgasm quickly when suddenly you were a loud scream echo in the building. 

You instantly retracted your hand for a second remembering that Bucky had his little prank; Sam clearly found out now. But you soon put that aside and continued thinking about Bucky. He was so perfect; how could anyone look at him and not fall in love? He was so handsome and charming. And his physique. Holy hell, you would give anything to run your hands all over his muscled torso. Kiss up and down his chest and tell him how beautiful he was. 

You wanted him pressed against you rutting his hips into you like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to feel his fingers touch you the way you're touching yourself right now thinking about him. You wanted to hear him groan and moan in your ear. You wanted all of him. 

“Buck,” you finally moaned out. 

“Y/n?”

“Oh god, Buck!” you shrieked grabbing your sheets to cover your modesty.

“Sorry, I uh- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in,” he stuttered covering his eyes. 

“Why are you in here?” you asked him.

“Sam is chasing me and I sought refuge here,” he said.

“You can open your eyes; I’m decent now,” you mumbled. 

Bucky slowly brought his hands down looking at you with a guilty expression. He walked up to your bed and sat hesitantly beside you. Your knees were tucked into you and your arms wrapped around them protectively. Heat crawled up your spine and you felt sweaty and embarrassed to be caught so vulnerably, especially by the man whose name you were moaning. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, avoiding his gaze. 

“Don’t be, we all do it.”

“I know it’s- it’s still embarrassing,” you mumbled. 

“Because?” you stayed silent not really wanting to say it out loud.

“Because you were thinking about me?” Bucky crawled closer to you pulling the sheet from your bare legs gracefully. Your breathing quicken rapidly, your chest heaving up and down. 

“You know, I uh- I think about you too; all the time,” he whispered as he dragged his knuckles up your lower leg.

“You don’t have to imagine anymore. I’m right here. Just say the words and I’ll give everything,” he was so close; his fingertips ghosting the sides of your thighs. 

“Bucky,” you breathed against his lips, “No, stop.”

Bucky instantly backed away, retracting his hands. He looked at you with confusion and you avoided his gaze once again. 

“Buck, I know you just want to sleep with me-”

“Woah what! Did Sam tell you that? Fucking asshole, I’m gonna kill him,” Bucky got up but you pulled his hand back so he’d sit down again.

“No, you- ugh. When you asked me out, a long time ago, I thought you were doing a bet or something with Sam; so I said no to avoid any humiliation. I told Sam and he said he didn’t even know about it, that he had nothing to do with it. So I went to your room to tell you that I liked you back but you were… ‘busy’,” you explained. 

Bucky casted his eyes and head down remembering that day vividly. He knew exactly what happened. He asked you out and when you said no he was crushed. He asked Thor if he had any mead with him; it was the only thing that could get him drunk. And he got on a bike and booked it to the closest nightclub. 

Bucky finished Thor’s flask and he doesn’t even remember what happened that night. He woke up the next morning with someone in his bed and he freaked. He knew he fucked up and he regretted going out. Suddenly you barged through the door with a beautiful smile on your face but when you saw his unwanted guest, all the sparkle in your face died. 

He didn’t see you the rest of the day and it killed him. The woman was nice and actually was very understanding so at least he had that going for him. From that day on Bucky didn’t even look at any other women, let alone give them an ounce of attention. His eyes were simply set on you in hopes one day you’d give him a second chance. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I know I fucked up and if you want me to leave, I will.”

“I’m not mad, we’re not together and you have every right to do that. It just kinda hurt that you moved on so fast,” you chuckled a bit.

“I didn’t! I… I just fucked up. I still want you, not just your body; even though you’re so fucking sexy,” he reached out and squeezed your thigh making you grin, as hard as you tried not to. 

“I still think about you all the time. You’re so funny, and beautiful, and sexy, did I mention how sexy you are?” he said, making you laugh. 

“Maybe once or twice,” you giggled.

“I don’t want you thinking that I’m using you. I like you a lot. And I know you like me,” he raised his eyebrow making you sheepish. 

“Sorry about that again,” you chuckled.

“Don’t be. I can show the real thing instead, all you have to do is say the word,” he brushed his nose against yours. It was so tempting. He was just so irresistible. So all hell went out the window and you caved.

“Please,” you whispered.

Bucky pressed his lips languidly against yours, as if he’d done so a thousand times before. His hand slipped up your inner thigh and you gasped softly into Bucky’s mouth. He pushed his tongue in, swirling it around your and your neck craned back as he kissed you deeper. 

His knuckles brushed your wet folds and you shuddered under his touch. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck as his fingers stroked your folds circled your entrance. You laid back staring up at Bucky who quickly got rid of his shirt before bringing his finger back down to your pussy. 

He slowly inserted a finger past your slick folds carfeully watching your face and the pleasure that was overcasted. You bit your lip staring into his eyes and Bucky grew hard simply from that. He pumped his finger in and out of you feeling your thighs wanting to press together from bliss. 

“Bucky, please I need more,” you whined. 

“Of course, my baby,” he smiled before adding another finger into your entrance. You moaned through gritted teeth feeling already full with just his fingers, you couldn’t imagine his cock. Your shirt had slowly ridden up exposing your belly. Bucky leaned down and kissed your skin, his lips feeling cold in contrast to your hot skin. 

Bucky breathed heavy at the sight of you. You were so beautiful and Bucky felt his heart swell. He’s been pining after you for so long and now you were finally here writhing under him in ecstasy. 

“You look so perfect, baby,” he whispered.

“Fuck, Bucky, your fingers feel so good,” you brushed your hands through his hair. 

“Yeah, you wanna cum? You cum all over my fingers?”

“Yes! Please let me cum,” you arched your chest to the air. 

“Come on, my baby. Let go.” You gushed all over his hand, your body spasming as you orgasmed. 

“So fucking pretty,” Bucky removed his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. You moaned at the sight of him licking his fingers and you pulled him into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Bucky stood up and discarded his pants quickly grabbing his cock. He walked to you and you replaced his hand with your slowly moving up and down his shaft. You circled your thumb over his swollen tip and you could feel his body tremble in your hand.

“Fucking tease, aren’t ya,” he grabbed your jaw and you smiled cheekily. 

He pulled your shirt off your body and his hands instantly went to your breasts, squeezing and pinching making you moan. His erection stood tall against your thigh and you grew needy for him.

“Please, baby. Please, I need you,” you held his face. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry. I’m gonna take real good care of my baby. I’m here,” Bucky whispered in your ear. 

He slowly pushed into you, his cock stretching you out. You whimpered at the feelin, never having felt so full before. Bucky kissed the skin below your ear as he slowly bottomed out. He stayed that way for a moment and soon you started wiggling your hips desperately asking him to move but he wouldn’t.

“Stop moving, doll. I just wanna feel ya,” he kept his face buried in your neck. 

“Bucky,” you breathed out.

“I know baby, you’re fucking tight. Squeezing me already too,” he chuckled.

You continued letting out whines and whimpers and Bucky’s heart nearly exploded. He propped himself on his elbows looking lovingly down at you and moved his hips back before pushing back in. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. Bucky kissed you senselessly, moaning deeply into your mouth. His hips thrusted wildly in and out of you, making your toes curled.

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re taking me so well; such a pretty baby,” he praised. 

You couldn’t form proper words; everything fell from your lips when you tried. Bucky is completely ruining you. Rutting into your hips, surely to leave bruises, he grazed your g spot perfectly pulling loud moans from you everytime.

“Ya feel that? Feel how deep I’m fucking this perfect little pussy?” Bucky grabbed your hand placing it on your lower stomach where you could feel his cock poking your hand with each thrust. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re fucking me so fucking good, I’m gonna cum,” yoou whimpered. 

“Say my name when you do baby. I want everyone in this goddamn building to know you’re mine,” his hips became sporadic. 

“Oh fuck; James!” you chanted his real name, surprising Bucky. He wanted you to say ‘Buck’ like you always do but hearing his first name fall from your lips, he only ever wanted to hear you say it reminding him of this very moment forever.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he grunted before spilling inside you. He coated your velvety walls with his hot cum and that was enough to make you fall off the edge too. Your eyes rolled back and your nails dragged harshly down his back. You protruded your chest up to his and Bucky could feel your perked nipples on his skin. 

He watched you with pure infatuation. Your face quickly relaxed to a tired and bliss expression. You breathed heavily out trying to settle your breathing. Bucky looked at your lips and captured them on his own one last time before running to your bathroom to clean you up. 

“You are so beautiful, my baby,” he whispered.

“Fuck, that was so good,” you said fervorly, pulling his flush against your body by his neck.

“And it’s-” he was interrupted by your phone ringing beside you.

“It’s Steve,” you told him before looking at the time at the top left of your screen. You were twenty minutes late to your morning session with Steve. You gasped covering your mouth with your hand in shock. 

“I’m late to my early sesh with Steve,” you laughed hysterically.

“Here, let me,” Bucky grabbed your phone sitting up to talk to Steve.

“Buck no,” you crawled behind him trying to grab your phone but not having the energy to chase his hand.

“Hey, Y/n’s busy.”

You heard a muffled voice, “Doing what, Buck?”

“Sucking my dick,” he said with absolute no hesitation.

“Buck!” you snatched the phone from his hand. 

“Sorry, Steve. I got a bit… distracted. I promised I’ll make it up,” you told him. 

“First of all, gross. Second of all, I’m happy for you two; you’re good together,” he said.

“Thanks, Stevie. I’ll see ya later.”

“Stevie?” Bucky asked, unamused. 

“Oh shut up, Buck. You just embarrassed me telling him I was sucking your dick,” you nudged him.

“You don’t want to suck my dick?”

“Ugh Buck!” you buried your face in your hands.

“Of course I do,” you said, making Bucky tackle you down pressing kisses all over your face.

“Well, this was quite an eventful morning,” he joked.

“It sure was. What do you think happened with Sam?”

---

“And he put a roach in my lampshade,” Sam cried, actual tears. Nat was trying her absolute hardest to not laugh as was Wanda; gripping onto each other’s arms in hysteria.

“It’s ok, Sam,” Steve soothed him rubbing his back. 

“God, where’s Y/n? We were supposed to start training twenty minutes ago,” Steve grumbled, staring at his watch.

“Call her,” Tony said.

Steve stepped aside and Sam continued to cry telling them how he chased him and he knew he ran into your room but it was locked. Nat and Wanda looked at each other grinning like idiots hoping what they think happened happened. Steve came back with a soft proud smile on face.

“What happened with Y/n?” Tony asked.

“She uh, she had to cancel, but it’s cool,” he looked at the girls who smiled knowingly. 

“She’s with Bucky isn’t she,” Sam grunted.

“Yeah, yeah she is,” Steve said, making Sam cry again because he’s not gonna be able to beat the shit of Bucky anymore.

====================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #marvel fics #marvel smut

[vad-hander]

JAEBEOM, THE GUY FROM THE BAR

Pairing: Jaebeom x reader

Genre: Series | Eventual Smut | Angst | Fluff

Warnings: break up, cheating, strangers to lovers, mentions of drinking

Words: 3.8k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You noticed Jaebeom get out of taxi the same moment you were walking towards the door of the designated cafe place. He seemed to not notice you, looking down into his phone, typing something with furrowed brows. You stopped next to the door, watching him go past you grabbing the handle of the door. You laid your hand on his shoulder roughly, and he turned quickly with a face expression that made you regret your sudden decision. He looked as if he’d hit you right until the moment he focused his vision on who grabbed him, noticing it was you.

“Jesus, I almost punched you.” he pushed the phone into his back pocket, shooting you a smile. His palm laid on the small of your back, rubbing it a few times, you tried to step closer thinking he’d hug you but he didn’t. You looked him in the eyes seeing him properly in the daylight for the first time. His Cupid’s bow upper lip attracted your attention even more now that the sun shone on it and you could see the light pink colour of his dried out lips. You held in a chuckle at the inner urge of getting your chopstick out to put it on his lips. You noticed how he wasn’t shaved neatly and you asked yourself if he looked that way all the time and you didn’t notice? Your mind for the first time crossed a thought that he looked … sexy?

Jaebeom’s clothes were baggier than they usually were and he seemed even wider in shoulders than before. You thought to yourself that it’d be thrilling to see him shirtless just to contain your curiosity but for starters you hoped that maybe he’d at least kiss your cheek as a greeting.

That’d be good enough too, it’d be good to dive in something that came to you naturally in general. You didn’t want to get another relationship in which you forced someone into. You internally hit yourself for thinking all these thoughts after just one drunk kiss and a couple of hangouts. You were doing it again, forcing yourself into something uncertain and unclear a day after you saw what all of it leads to.

Don’t force anything, don’t force him, you repeated like a mantra. Don’t do it like you did it with Jeno, don’t do it, you told yourself.

Fuck, Jeno. You thought how he still didn’t talk to you at all an killed every second thought in your head about him immediately.

Don’t think too much, don’t make any assumptions before Jaebeom says anything clearly. Go with the flow, do what feels right and don’t overthink.

Move, you commanded to yourself.

“Should we…” you began speaking when someone behind interrupted you.

“Excuse us.” Jaebeom moved you to the side by your elbow when the person asked for you two to free the way.

“Should we go in too?” you asked him when he let go of you.

“Yes, I’m starving.” he nodded, turning to open the door, for you to walk in first.

“Thank you.” you said shyly, walking in front of him.

“Let’s sit over there.” you felt his presence with your back, seeing him pointing to a table in the far corner. “It’s quiet there.” you nodded and walked over there immediately. “I’m so glad you actually texted me in the morning.” he said with a chuckle when the both of you sat down. His eyes ran through the menu while yours ran over his hands. Rings, the cold of which you felt on your cheeks before, were still present on his fingers. “Did you like anything?” he raised his eyes back to you, making you startled, forcing you unknowingly to quickly grab the menu. You heard him laugh at your actions, running your eyes through the menu to decide on anything but everything blurred out due to your embarrassment.

“I’ll have whatever.” you looked back at him.

“I’m not rushing, you can look at everything you wanted to and then pick food.” he smirked “But let’s be honest I need to take my clothes off for you to see.” a wide smile grew on his face and you guessed he was trying hard not to laugh. You opened your eyes wide in shock, trying to react calmly but the heat that ran to your face immediately opened to him your real feelings. Vivid pictures of him taking his clothes off changed one another in your head and the fact that you already saw his stomach made the images more realistic.

“Not funny.” was everything you found to say awkwardly.

“I’m sorry .” he looked back into the menu, when you heard the waitress come closer.

He made words get stuck in your throat with the way he spoke and acted, and you really regretted you didn’t down a drink before meeting him just to be more free. But then again, it’s not a good idea to only meet him drunk, sooner or later you’ll need to get help with that too. After the food began arriving it felt easier for you to speak and eat at the same time.

“That’s a relief, you seem to be doing good, with everything that happened.”

“You asked me out to make sure I won’t die alone? Sweet.” you turned your head to the side slightly.

“That’s actually my second intention.”

“And the first…?” you leaned in more on the table wondering if you pushed him too much once again.

“I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me after what we did, I do realise you were terribly drunk, I just wanted to see if I’m right.”

“There’s nothing… in what we did… we didn’t do anything that’s not appropriate… or what?” you suddenly realised what he probably meant “Did we…? You want to say we…?” you leaned in more, almost laying with your chest against the table. You tried to think how you got home or to bed, but the only thing you remember is how you kissed and then you took one more sip of the drink that completely blacked out your memory.

“The way you texted I thought you remembered…?” his eyebrows furrowed, spreading confusion over his face.

“I’m sorry.” you said, leaning back into the chair. Your hands grabbed your head in your arms. How could you not remember sleeping with someone at all? How could you not remember sleeping with HIM?

“I should be sorry, I knew you won’t remember anything, but you kind of begged and wrote on my arm.” he rolled up his sleeve showing you “I couldn’t resist then and kissed you, I’m sorry.” you grabbed his hand and read the same sentence you remembered you wrote. It was pretty washed out by now and you wondered to yourself why he didn’t get rid of it, but it wasn’t the main reason of your headache and you pushed it to the side.

“I remember the kiss, I don’t remember how we had sex.” you simply admitted, speaking lower in the ending.

“We didn’t have sex, what are you talking about?” his face got even more confused than before.

“We didn’t?”

“As far as I remember…”

“Jesus, you just made me believe I had sex and didn’t remember it, use your words properly, I almost experienced a stroke.” you wanted to slap his arm but he put it away from the table.

“I’m not that bad, at least you would’ve felt something even if you didn’t remember.” he sounded as if he was genuinely offended.

“You just helped me get home and left?”

“It’s not ‘just’. I forced you to get into my car, which trust me, wasn’t an easy job, then I had to carry you to your place, and only after one cup of water you became more or less alive and then you walked to your bed. I helped you out of your clothes with my eyes closed, tucked you in and left. That’s it, nothing else happened, you don’t have to worry.” he spoke as if it was an important story to remember.

“Sincerely, thank you. You didn’t have to do any of that but you still did. Thank you.” you told looking him in the eyes and he nodded, ticking almost an entire sandwich into his mouth at once. You silently watched him chew, hearing his phone ring. He quickly pulled it out and you guessed he was waiting for an important call with the speed he did it. His eyes ran over the screen and he declined the call, laying the phone on the table with the screen down. His eyes met yours and shot you a smile.

“I need to go to the restroom, will you be fine without me?”

“Yeah, sure.” you nodded, watching him get up and grab his phone.

You sighed, watching his back disappear around the corner. Your eyes ran over the place, focusing on the entrance. The door opened and you watched a man enter the cafe, moving your eyes further, until the thought of him being familiar hit your head and your eyes got back to the man that entered the cafe.

Jeno.

You turned back around, curling up in your seat hoping you disappeared from his view. Fear soaked you in to the point you stopped breathing and focused your eyes on the wall from which you thought Jaebeom is going to appear again.

You felt two hands wrap around your shoulders, knowing you failed miserably. Jeno’s lips touched your cheek and he let go of you, pulling in the chair from a nearby table to sit next to you.

“What you’re doing here?” you asked confused when he sat and looked at you.

“I came to see you.” his hand reached out to you and he tried to caress your cheek, and you pushed back quickly to not let him.

“How did you find me?”

“Your phone, you’re sharing your location with me.”

“Please go away.” you contained yourself, sounding as calm as possible.

“You’re still pissed?” he chuckled carelessly and tried to touch you again. Thoughts of him touching other girl with those same hands made you sick and you jumped up.

“I’m pissed!?” you exclaimed trying not to attract too much attention.

“Please don’t make a scene.”

“I’m not making a scene, I’m telling you to leave.” his head turned to the side of the table where Jaebeom previously sat.

“Come on, baby, don’t be pissed, it’s a mistake I won’t ever repeat. Let’s go home, I missed you.”

“Are you out of your mind?” you exclaimed moving back. You felt Jaebeom’s presence behind you, and tried to not act surprised when you felt his palms on your waist.

“Who’s that?” Jeno looked behind you, raising his eyebrows. “Is that the reason you wanted me to leave? Already found someone new to fuck?” his eyes trailed down onto where Jaebeom’s hands laid.

“No, that’s my friend. I don’t sleep with everyone I talk to.” you laid your hands on top of Jaebeom’s, moving them away “I guess this type of relationship is unknown to you.”

“Seriously? A friend? Him? I can’t believe you’re fucking someone when we didn’t even brake up.”

“What? Stop embarrassing me in front of people! You cheated! We’re not dating. Jeno, leave. Why did you come? What did you want to do? Kill every good memory I had left of you? Congrats, you succeeded!” you exclaimed feeling dry tears in your eyes.

“Don’t cry.” you heard Jaebeom’s quiet whisper. His hand grabbed yours to squeeze and you felt better from the simple gesture.

“No, I’m not crying, he don’t deserve my tears, that’s why they not even there.” you told Jaebeom, turning back to Jeno “There was a time I thought I almost loved you, thank God you showed your true self. You killed all of it, now, please just leave and don’t ever try to contact me, especially in that weird way.”

“Y/n, seriously? Don’t get influenced by that prick.” you felt Jaebeom’s fingers squeeze tightly over yours.

“It’s better for you to leave.” he spoke loudly.

“Oh, your new boyfriend have voice?”

“Jeno, leave.”

“Okay, okay, you two make a great couple of pricks. I anyway came just to tell you that I’ll throw your shit away if you won’t pick it up.” he stood up, throwing the chair back to where he got it from. “Dude, trust me, run, she’ll eat your brain out.” Jeno chuckled referring to Jaebeom.

“Your advice is very much not needed.” Jeno walked away, and Jaebeom turned you to face him, running his hands through your hands. “I leave you for 5 minutes and you get yourself in trouble?” he tried to make you smile. “How did he find out you’re here?”

“My phone is sharing location with him, but I honestly don’t know why he came… without warning as well?” you sighed hopelessly. “I’m sorry you had to go through this too, I’m deeply sorry you had to hear his stupid words.”

“You did well.” his hand rubbed your cheek, pinching it.

“You too.” you pinched his cheek in return and finally felt good. Jaebeom caught your hand when you were dropping it back down and lifted it back by the wrist, pecking the inside of your palm. “Stop.” you chuckled and pushed him away.

“I feel really bad now, I needed to tell you I have to go, but I saw you with Jeno and yeah…”

“I’m okay, you can go if you need to.” you played with your fingers.

“I’m sorry, a friend called me, it’s urgent, I really need to go.”

“I understand. You’re duty is to help everyone Do you by any chance have little wings on your shoulders?” you touched his back, jokingly trying to turn him to see.

“Your obsession with undressing me is getting out of hand today.” he caught your hands in his. “Tell me you’re free this Thursday?”

“It depends on time…” you were ready to accept his proposal anyway, but you guessed it’d be good to at least pretend you think about it.

“After 6?”

“Okay, I’m free.” you nodded after taking your time to think of your schedule.

“Great, I’ll be at your door at 6:30.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to take you to an exhibition.”

“Okaay.” you nodded and smiled.

“You don’t seem too keen?”

“Yay, Jaebeom, thank you so much.” you expressed excitement with clapping your hands like a seal.

“Cool.” he smiled and suddenly pecked your cheek. “I’ll pay and go.” he turned around calling the waitress.

“I’ll pay for myself.” you sat back down.

“You can transfer me the money later, she’ll take forever to separate the bill.” he seemed too in a rush and you agreed. “I thought we’ll just eat and then hang out, but it turned out to be all over the place.” Jaebeom stood up and leaned to you. “I’ll do my best to erase the memories from today on Thursday. I’ll make sure our date will be perfect.” his lips laid on your cheek, leaving it for a second only to kiss you once again.

“This was a date?” was all that came to your mind to ask.

“No, we won’t count it as one because it was messed up.” he smiled to you, and caressed your cheek. “I’ll see you.” he said and leaned in once more. You felt your eye-lids tremble for a few more seconds after he left, turning around to see him walk away.

You noticed through the glass-wall how he walked to a car in front of the entrance. You thought it was a taxi but doubted it after he sat on the front sit. You squinted your eyes, trying hard to see what he’s doing. Jaebeom leaned in to the driver and you saw how her hands wrapped around his shoulders. They hugged for so long if you were closer you’d be able to count every hair on her head by the time she let go of him. His head moved a little and you suddenly thought that they kissed. What if they kissed? The fear covered you suddenly and you turned away, closing your eyes. When you found strength to look back the car was long gone and you stood up too, walking back home.

Jaebeom didn’t text you even in the evening, and you laid in bed, scrolling through your meagre chat, hypnotising your phone for him to text you.

to: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“I hope everything went well with your friend ^^”

from: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“yup”

“thank you”

he replied immediately, did he talk with someone else right now?

to: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“about Thursday”

“can I wear casual clothes or it’s more of an official exhibit?”

from: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“wear whatever”

The smile ran down your face, because your sudden realisation that he didn’t care hit your head. He probably was still busy, busy with the girl he hugged in the car.

“if you’ll be too fancy you’ll stand out too much.”

“I’ll like anything but it’s more of a casual exhibit. I’ll be casual.”

to: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“okay”

“I’ll match”

from: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“Nah, no one’s a match to you”

to: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“I hope you meant it in a good way.”

from: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“I feel so bad about what happened today.”

to: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“come over? we can make it up for the day.” you typed slowly, thinking for a minute if you should hit sent or not. Your mind went blurry at the thought of Jaebeom coming to your place , or to your bed.

from: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“I really can’t come”

“why are you like this???”

to: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“what are you thinking…”

“it’s not that…”

from: Jaebeom, the guy from the bar

“then I’ll see you on Thursday.”

And you texted him a few more silly things, finally going to bed afterwards.

Closing your eyes you thought about the day you kissed once more. You ran through your mind multiple times how he kissed you, how his lips moved against yours. Then, you tried to imagine in your head from what he told you, how he carried you home and got you to your bedroom. Suddenly, you remembered something from that evening.

/You walked into your room, hearing Jaebeom’s steps behind you. You turned around almost hitting the bed with your knee.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed loudly.

“Let’s get you to bed before you kill yourself.” he chuckled and rested his hands on your waist, trying to make you sit down.

“You’ll sleep with me?”

“What?”

“Sleep with me.” you whined.

“Y/n, in the morning it can be awkward if we’ll wake up next to each other. I’ll go home.”

“Jaebeoma-a-h” you whined again and he sat you on the bed, kneeling in front of you. “Is it okay if I’ll call you Jaebeomah?”

“Yeah”. he chuckled and ran his fingers over your cheek.

“Want sex?” you suggested baldly, wishing that he’d maybe agree.

”Want what?” he laughed.

“Sex.” you said and Jaebeom’s hand left your cheek “with me.”

“I guessed that with you.” he laughed.

“No?”

“Let’s take you to bed.” he tried to stand up but your hand wrapped around his neck, unexpectedly for him pulling him towards you and crawling backwards so he weighs over you. Jaebeom found balance on each side of your head and pushed back when you tried to force him to kiss.

“Kiss me.” you cried, moving your hands from his neck to waist. Your body made a weird roll, making your lower parts touch. “Jaebeom, do you not feel it?”

“I do, honey, I do.” he switched his body weight to one hand, with the other running over your face. “If you’ll push any more we’ll make a mistake. I don’t want this to be a mistake. Let me just put you to bed.”

“Do you need me to write on your hand again? I want you.”

“Y/n please stop.” he sighed and lowered his face to yours.

“I can do anything.” you said referring to doing anything in bed.

“I’ll … I’ll go.” he sighed. Your hands grabbed his neck, forcing him to lower his head, putting all your strength to turn you two around. You straddled him and he didn’t protest even one bit physically. “Y/n… let’s not.”

“Why? You don’t like me? You don’t want me?”

“None of this, I just want you to remember all of it.” you fell onto the bed next to him, giving everything up. Something told you he won’t change his decision if he didn’t already. “Do you need help with changing clothes?”

“No.” you looked grumpy at him “Just turn away.”

“Okay.” he sat up and turned his back to you. You quickly took off the dress, diving into an oversized shirt.

“Done.” you told him so he could turn around. He stood up immediately, getting your blanket from the bed and silently telling you to lay. You did as he pleased, watching him put the duvet on top of you. He hovered over you, getting your faces close once again. “We already kissed what stops you from doing it once more?” you asked again, and Jaebeom run his tongue over his teeth in response.

He moved his head lower, staring intensely at your neck. You gulped not being used to that gaze, twitching when he lowered his lips onto your neck, leaving a fervent kiss. The skin under his lips burned and your insides squeezed under him. He kissed your neck again, and you gasped loudly letting him know on purpose that you liked it. You didn’t touch him just in case he’d disappear if you’d do so, and you just watched him stare at your neck again. His last kiss felt as if he burned a whole in your throat, making a move that made your heart drop down into your feet even though you were laying. He licked afterwards the spot that he kissed and casually moved back. “Bye, sleep tight.” he gave you a smile and stood up. You watched him walk out and close the door behind him and you passed out quicker than you could realise./

_

really didn't want to make you wait any longer, so posted without re-reading it! sorry, if you found any mistakes.

I hope you enjoyed reading this part! please let me know <3

#jaebeom #jaebeom smut #jay b #jaebeom fluff #jaebeom fanfiction #jaebum #im jaeboem #jaebom #got7 jb #jb fic #jb smut #jaebum smut #jaebum imagines #jaebum fluff #got7 #got7 jaebeom #got7 smut #got7 fluff

[novoaa1writes]

candles

image source

pairing(s): dark!wanda maximoff x reader

summary:

you’ve been feeling strange for the past month, particularly when it comes to dating. 

you do your best to ignore it, thinking it’ll resolve itself on its own—given time, that is.

it doesn’t. 

(and it’s got everything to do with wanda.)

[also available on ao3]

word count: ~5,300

rating: mature

warnings: dark!wanda, NON-CON spanking (with a belt), NON-CON BDSM play, mental manipulation, partial mind control, emotional manipulation, mental coercion, trauma bonding, toxic dynamics, drinking, possessive!wanda, non-con mind-reading, vandalism, adultery (not in reference to you or wanda), brief instances of slut-shaming

notes: [requested by anon] reader’s sexuality isn’t explicitly stated, but ex-partners of different genders are referenced/mentioned

— —

wanda uses a couple bulgarian terms of endearment for reader here, so below is a lil’ list in the order of which they appear.

принцеса | printsesa | princess [feminine term of endearment] мила | mila | honey [feminine term of endearment] любима | lubima | sweetheart [feminine term of endearment]

*note: all of these are exactly one letter away from being precise matches to synonymous terms in russian. HOWEVER, the bulgarian alphabet and the russian alphabet are different—granted, in fairly minor ways. for one, while both are comprised of cyrillic lettering, russian has 33 while bulgarian only has 30.  

— —

You have no fucking clue what’d gotten into you. 

One moment, things were fine—good, even. And the next… well. 

You’ll explain. 

It was something like 11:30 on a Saturday night, and you were drunk. 

Well, not drunk. More like buzzed. 

But whatever, right? Considering the week you’d had, you deserved to let loose, even if only for a night. 

Monday night saw a very angry and decidedly unhinged soccer mom banging on your door, screeching vehemently about the ‘two-faced slut’ who ruined her marriage and demanding to be let in so that she could ‘make her sorry.’ Turns out, the older guy your roommate had been sleeping with as of late was married—not that he’d bothered to share that particular bit of information with her, obviously. 

The two of you spent the better part of the evening barricaded inside, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth while trying to explain to the 911 operator that you weren’t messing around, that there really was an angry soccer mom on your doorstep and you were actively fearing for your safety. 

She eventually left around 10:00pm—no thanks to the police, since the 911 operator hadn’t even bothered to give them a call. It wasn’t until the next morning when you left for work that you saw the woman’s parting gift to the pair of you: the word ‘HOMEWRECKER’ spray-painted across the front door in obnoxious red lettering. 

Bye-bye, security deposit. 

That same night, you made your roommate promise to start dating people in a similar age range—because really, the both of you were stressed enough as it was without worrying about coming in between yet another middle-aged couple’s dying marriage. 

The rest of the week wasn’t much better. 

On Thursday, your balding creep of a boss had made yet another blatant pass at you in the workplace, making you seriously consider (and not for the first time) the prospect of just quitting and being done with it. 

Then, at shit o’clock on a Friday morning, you awoke to an urgent phone call informing you that an ex of yours (one you were actually on semi-decent terms with) had gotten into a fairly serious car accident, and still had you marked down as her emergency contact. 

30 minutes later found you showing up at the hospital just moments after your ex’s current girlfriend had arrived, which then prompted the whole ‘you still being your ex’s emergency contact’ revelation when the current girlfriend demanded to know what you were doing there, which ended up being… well, you’ll just say it wasn’t pretty, and leave it at that. 

And your ex was going to be completely fine, anyways. She just had some minor cuts and abrasions, and would need to undergo a fairly minor (read: minimally invasive) surgery over the next couple days. 

Before leaving, you instigated a quick check-in with the doctors to ensure they had everything they needed—which then turned into you providing a list of allergies, as your ex wouldn’t likely be conscious for another couple of hours, and apparently the current girlfriend didn’t know of her sensitivities to penicillin and phenobarbital… which the current girlfriend was less than happy about, if the daggers she glared at you were any indication. 

Whatever. You were just trying to help. 

You thanked the doctors, told them to feel free to call you if anything went awry, then asked if they might tell your ex to call you when she awoke. You thought about offering some words of comfort to the current girlfriend as she sat vigil at your ex’s bedside, but the murderous glower she shot you the moment you got within ten feet of her was more than enough to make you think better of it. 

With that, you left. 

So… yeah. It’d been a shitty week. 

And now, here you were: a girls’ night out at the lively nightclub you and your roommate had scoped out just last weekend, tossing back $12 cocktails and letting the trashy EDM beat blaring over the speakers drown out the rest of your thoughts. 

You’d been feeling a little weird all week—all month, really. 

As far as you were concerned, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

 So, when a cute guy wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that was at least a couple sizes too big yet did well to compliment his well-muscled torso came up to you and started chatting you up at the bar, you didn’t blow him off.

The exact opposite, in fact.

He was nice, and funny, and had a gorgeous smile that made your chest feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he flirted with you, you flirted right back. 

You felt a little guilty for doing so, though you couldn’t exactly put a finger on why that was. Either way, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for very long. 

After all, you’d been feeling hints of that for the past month, if not longer. It seemed to happen whenever you flirted with a cute guy, or went out on another Tinder date with a pretty girl, or even hugged one of your close friends. 

You’d get this painful tightening sensation in your gut, nausea roiling in your abdomen… a distant, lofty voice in your head telling you that this was wrong, that you already belonged to someone else. 

Which was pointless, really. Stupid. 

You were single. 

Your last serious relationship (barring the one with your now-hospitalized ex-girlfriend) had been over seven months ago with an eccentric guy named Lukas. He was kind, well-meaning… a bit of a dork at his very core, but you always found that more endearing than anything else. You’d dated him for four and a half months before deciding to break it off; because as much as you cared for him and enjoyed being around him, you didn’t love him, and you knew by then that you never would. 

You thought about him, from time to time—even missed him now and again.

And yet, the strangest thing about the shameful feeling you’d get whenever your roommate so much as brushed a friendly kiss up against your cheek—it had absolutely nothing to do with Lukas. 

You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did. 

Whatever.

This guy was not Lukas. 

His name was Des—short for Desmond, you learned over your fourth sugary-sweet cocktail of the night. He was charming and slightly foul-mouthed, but conscientious and passably polite where it mattered. He didn’t grope your ass or stare at your tits, nor did he make any lewd commentary about your body in any capacity. 

He also smelled… really good, like Old Spice and spearmint gum and the barest hint of cigarette smoke. 

That was more than enough for you. 

(Whatever, alright? Decent guys were in short supply these days.)

You smiled and let him buy you another drink, even after you’d insisted that he really, really didn’t have to. And when an obnoxious pop song with a beat that was far more catchy than you’d have liked to admit came over the speakers, you let him coax you out to the dance floor with minimal resistance. 

It was… fun. You liked the way his hands rested on either of your hips—gentle, almost careful; holding you like he understood he didn’t have a right to your body, like he was more than content that you allowed him this to even think of demanding any more.

Despite the twinges of guilt flaring in your gut, you let yourself get a little more comfortable… dancing closer and closer to him amidst a packed crowd of writhing bodies, letting your breasts graze up against his chest. 

It was teasing—provocative, even. A test, of sorts—one that Des passed with flying colors. 

He didn’t do a thing to rush you, just kept dancing across from you with his hands on your hips and his darkened gaze on yours—seeming fully content to let you set the pace for the moment. And God, but the way he was looking at you… patient but eager, like he wanted nothing more than to crush your body against his own and grind himself into you like an animal—and yet, still, he held himself back. 

You couldn’t help but find that attractive as hell. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you let your body to press flush against his as you swayed to the beat of the song, not shying away from the slight stiffness you could feel growing against your hip. 

That guilty, nauseous feeling in your gut pulled tighter. 

You ignored it, and, when he leaned a little closer to shout over the deafening music, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”... well. 

You wasted absolutely no time in lunging up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a messy open-mouthed kiss, the strobe lights of the club fading into obscurity around you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours—tentative, at first, until you pressed a little harder and traced the seam of his lips with your tongue… and, yeah; that did the trick. 

A moment later, his lips parted to let out a quiet groan directly into your mouth as he began to reciprocate in earnest, setting every nerve ending on your body alight with electrifying want. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twisted sort of clarity hit you square in the chest—slowly, and then all at once. 

The next bits were something of a blur. 

You tore yourself away from Des, turned to forcibly elbow your way through a floor of grinding bodies. You thought you heard him call out your name, and more than a couple people on the dancefloor turned to glare at you as you rudely brushed past them without care—but, whatever. 

You texted… someone, telling them you were headed back to the apartment, so they shouldn’t bother waiting up. The group chat, maybe? 

And now… Now. 

Before you can blink, the past crashes into the present, and you find yourself back outside in the pitch-black night. 

It’s dark… chilly. A brisk wind catches you the moment you stumble out onto the sidewalk, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin like scores of needles piercing your flesh. You whimper, shudder, and hug your arms around your body—trying to warm yourself back up like a scared little kid who forgot their jacket. 

For the first time that night, you regret the tiny black babydoll dress you’d chosen to wear for the evening—and that’s not even to mention the four-inch heels. 

It’s miserable, to be sure, but you can hardly focus on it for very long. 

No, you have to go somewhere. You feel sick, and cold, and wrong in a way you’re loath to even begin explaining to anyone else. 

And your head… you’re positively aching for something—someone to make this better.

You need… Wanda. 

Yes, Wanda is the person you’re looking for. She can make all of this better. 

You don’t know why, but you’re sure of it. You just need to find her. Hopefully she’s spending the night in her apartment on that super cozy sofa of hers, drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching something on Netflix like the two of you did a couple weeks back. 

A fond grin curves your lips at the recollection as you stumble off down the sidewalk, headed for the nearest subway station. 

Another wintry gust of wind hits you square in the chest, and you pinch your forearm hard, silently willing yourself to focus. 

The station should be less than a block down, if you’re remembering correctly. 

At the next street corner, you manage to brandish your pepper spray in one hand while you rummage around in your purse for your MetroCard with the other. 

It’s cold as hell, and you’re probably a little too drunk to be walking through the City streets alone right now, but you don’t much care. 

All you gotta do is find Wanda. That’s all. 

She’ll make everything better again. 

— —

Where everything else is confusing, there’s one part that seems to make sense—Wanda. 

You nearly pick a fight with the card reader at the subway entrance when it makes you swipe your card three times to let you through, and even the stairs leading down to the lower tracks are more of a challenge than they probably should be… and yet, somehow, the rest of it is blessedly simple. A no-brainer, really.  

You know which train you need to take… the blue one that arrives in four minutes. You know you need to stay on it for five stops before getting off. 

Once you’re up at ground level, you’ll have a short walk ahead of you—one that you know like the back of your hand despite only ever having been to Wanda’s a couple of times. 

You’ll enter Wanda’s apartment building, take the elevator right up to floor four, and boom! Home free. 

You do exactly that.

It takes a short time (thankfully) and there’s not an ounce of uncertainty within you all the while, like you’ve done this 100 times before.  

In seemingly no time at all, you’re there—standing on Wanda’s doorstep, knocking a couple times just beneath the burnished bronze ‘4A’ nailed into her door. 

Your head feels all light and dizzy; you’re still shuddering from the time you spent out in the cold; but—

“One sec!” Wanda’s muffled voice comes from inside, the mere sound of it washing over you like a soothing balm—promising relief. 

You’re safe now. 

You made it.  

— —

The moment the door swings open to reveal a bleary-eyed Wanda Maximoff dressed in tiny grey pajama shorts, an oversized Star Trek T-shirt, and nothing else, it’s like everything falls back into place. 

It’s like… like you can breathe again.

You’re still drunk, and shivering, and more than a bit confused; but now that Wanda’s awake and here and smirking like she knows exactly what’s happening even if you don’t, you feel… better, somehow. Not nearly so lost as you were before. 

“Y/N,” Wanda greets, stepping aside and offering out a hand to help you inside. You’re quick to take it. “I was not expecting you,” she drawls, though everything about her demeanor is saying the opposite as she shuts and locks the door behind you. 

You pay it little mind. “Yeah, I... ” you trail off, turning to face her even as an embarrassed flush warms your cheeks. All of a sudden, you can’t help but feel rather ridiculous for knocking on her door and barging in so late—especially without calling first. “I’m so sorry, I...  I don’t know why I’m here.”

Wanda just tilts her head, appraising you curiously even as the ghost of a knowing smile curves her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

The heat in your cheeks seems to intensify tenfold at that. “I… I need to tell you something,” you hear yourself say, and the moment it’s registered, you realize that it’s true. 

You feel… guilty, all of a sudden. Nauseous, too. Scared. 

You danced with that guy—Des. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… You kissed him. Why would you do that?

In the present moment, Wanda nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like all of this makes perfect sense. 

“Okay,” she acquiesces lightly, flares of crimson flitting through her measured gaze. “Is it something I’ll have to punish you for?”

‘Punish’ me? What—?

You feel Wanda’s presence in your head… inconspicuous tendrils sifting through your thoughts, worming their way through your scattered memories. 

No point in lying. 

“Y-Yes,” you hear yourself say. Much like earlier, it isn’t until the moment you’ve confirmed it aloud that you know it to be true. You danced with someone else. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… kiss you. “I… I’m so sorry, Wanda; I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You see the moment Wanda finds it—your memories of the nightclub. Meeting Des at the bar. Flirting with him… Kissing him. 

The look on her pretty features goes from bemused to disbelieving to absolutely murderous in zero seconds flat, and the realization hits like a freight train that you’re really in for it now. 

Fuck. 

“Go to the bedroom,” she snarls, her typically blue-green eyes burning with scarlet light. “Then take off that slutty dress. I want you on the bed, face down, naked. Do you understand?”

Your head is spinning; confusion rears its ugly head in your gut even as every ounce of your being screams at you to just obey—‘cause if you can just do that, the rest of it will start to make sense. (Maybe.) “O-Okay.”

— — 

You don’t know how you know the way to Wanda’s bedroom, but you do. 

You slip inside a room shrouded in darkness, and no matter how it strains your eyes to look around, you don’t dare turn on the light. 

It’s a modestly-sized bedroom with hardwood flooring, fairy lights along one wall, and an adjoining bathroom just opposite the entrance. There’s a tall, wooden dresser pressed up against the wall directly across from a large, king-sized bed. That’s pretty much all the detail you can manage to make out in the darkness.

Well, either way, you suppose it isn’t really your business. 

Wanda gave you specific instructions, and you intend to follow them. 

Not for the first time tonight, you’re quite happy about the babydoll dress you’re wearing—particularly for how easy it is to pull it up over your head and off, leaving you in panties and a strapless bra in a matter of moments. 

You fold the dress neatly in your hands, then leave it atop the dresser. Your panties and bra come next. In seconds, you’ve formed a small, tidy pile. 

As you step out of your heels and approach the neatly-made bed, you’re struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu… like you’ve done this before.

It lingers in the forefront of your mind as you crawl up onto the bed, biting back a groan at how easily the plush mattress gives way under your hands and knees. 

God, you’d kill to have a nice nap in this absolute cloud of a bed.

You shake the thought off, simultaneously willing the haze of intoxication fogging up your brain to abate.

You’re not here to nap. 

You settle face-down onto the bed, just like Wanda said. You’re careful not to rest your face on the pillows, though, since you have the distinct feeling that’s not something Wanda would want you doing without permission.

Instead, you fold your arms and rest your head atop your forearm, staring straight down into nothing. You scrunch up your features and let out a quiet huff as the black duvet tickles the tip of your nose. 

It smells like her—all of it does. Cinnamon, vanilla, and something indefinable; something that belongs to Wanda, and Wanda alone. 

You feel your body stiffen as a familiar set of footsteps draw near, approaching the room where you lie—naked and vulnerable atop Wanda’s bed.

The patter of Wanda’s gait becomes almost soundless as she enters, circling around the bed over towards the nightstand. You don’t dare to turn your head and watch as she pulls out one of the drawers, rummaging through it until she finds… well, whatever it is she’s looking for, you suppose. 

A moment later, there’s the telltale chk! of a match being struck, and a hiss as the phosphorous tip lights itself aflame. 

It’s quiet for a minute... then two. The only sounds you can hear are your breathing and the strike of a match every time Wanda lights another. 

Gradually, gentle flares of light grow in your periphery, bathing the room in a dim, yellow-y glow. She’s lighting candles—a lot of them. 

You’ve always loved candles. 

A couple minutes later, she’s finished, and she returns to tuck the matchbox safely back in the drawer. 

You lose track of her as she retreats once more, and your mounting curiosity is more than piqued when you hear her rummaging through the dresser near the foot of the bed; still, you don’t dare turn and look. 

Instead, you wait, fetid nausea churning low in your gut, pinpricks of apprehension dancing across every inch of exposed skin. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage as she takes something out from the dresser drawer, then shuts it with an audible thud!

You swallow the lump in your throat and urge yourself to focus on your breathing. 

In, out. 

In, out. 

In… out.

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” Wanda’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, genuine hurt coloring her hushed tone. 

You have to fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “I… I’m sorry, Wanda,” you say meekly, pathetically, cheeks hot with shame. 

And the worst part? You’re not lying. 

You listen carefully for the sounds of her bare feet padding across the floor as she circles the bed once more, crouching down right beside you in the very corner of your periphery. 

“Look at me,” she orders, gentle yet firm. 

You do. 

The moment you meet her gaze, you can’t help the errant thought entering your mind that she looks so pretty like this—face bare of makeup; long brown hair piled into a messy bun atop her head; dainty features cast into darkened shadows by the low, yellow light of burning candles clustered together atop the nightstand. 

The muted light seems to soften her anger, her pain… allowing her to really look her age for the very first time since you’ve known her. 

“You think too loudly, Y/N.” Wanda’s words are dry, almost teasing as they jolt you back into reality. “Focus on me, please.”

You do. 

“You belong to me,” she asserts after a beat of silence, an uncharacteristically intent and almost solemn look splayed across her dimly-lit features. “I thought you understood that.”

The words confuse you even as they seem to resonate poignantly with some fundamental part of you… a part of you that categorically refuses to be ignored. 

“Wanda…” you trail off, bewilderment and contrition warring violently within your chest until it aches to draw breath. “I’m confused, Wanda,” you whimper out finally, overwhelmed tears burning in your eyes. “I-I-I don’t understand what’s happening—” 

Wanda cuts you off with a derisive snort. “Yes, clearly,” she agrees, her tone ripe with sardonic ire. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, desperately trying to make sense of it all. “Is that why…” You search Wanda’s eyes intently. “... I-I felt sick, an-and… guilty about dancing with Des.”

Something like anger flares in her gaze, hot and bitter, and you have to resist the urge to shrivel beneath it. “That boy had no right to touch what’s rightfully mine.”

“B-But then… why didn’t I remember?” you ask, utterly forlorn. “I-I felt it last weekend, too, but I… I didn’t—” 

“Last weekend?” Wanda repeats, features hardening.

Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks get hot again. “I… I shouldn’t have brought it up, Wan’, I’m sorry—”

“What happened last weekend?” she interjects, her tone cold and hard like a double-edged blade. “You can tell me yourself, or I can start looking.”

You shiver. “I… I went on a-a… a date with a girl that I met online,” you admit, tears welling in your eyes even as Wanda’s jaw visibly tightens. “I-It was just the one time! A-And nothing happened; we didn’t even k-kiss! I just… I didn’t… I didn’t know—”

“Yes. You’re right; you didn’t know.” Wanda stands abruptly, then, and it’s at that moment that you see the folded belt in her hands—thick, worn leather with a sterling silver buckle. 

An icy sense of dread blossoms in your chest, chilling you from the inside out. 

Is she going to—? 

“I was indulgent before… I let you get away with far too much. I will not make the same mistake again.”

With that, she turns to circle back around the bed, the belt buckle audibly jangling in her hands with every step. 

“I have to punish you, принцеса,” she continues, her voice scarcely more than a whisper as she comes to stand near the foot of the bed—and somehow, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no convincing her otherwise. 

She’s going to punish you, and it’s going to hurt. Bad. 

All at once, panic seizes you. You squirm, writhing in an effort to get up and off the bed—

Only to be stopped by tendrils of lurid crimson curling around either wrist, forcing them together just over your head like magic—glowing crimson cuffs holding both arms fast to the headboard. On a whim, you test your legs—tensing and pulling, only to be met with iron-clad resistance encircling either ankle in a tight, unrelenting grip. 

Well, fuck.

“W-Wanda,” you plead, hardly paying any mind to the way your voice trembles. “Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I do not enjoy punishing you, мила,” she laments, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. It tugs at your heartstrings in a curious way—something you really don’t have time to examine right now. “But you did something bad. And when you do bad things, there are consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

A tear trickles down your cheek, warm and wet as you steel yourself for the first hit. “Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Wanda lauds, and you can’t help the surge of warmth that washes over you at the simple praise—the pride that blooms in your chest at knowing you’ve finally done something right. “Now—try and relax, принцеса, okay?”

It’s all the warning you get before the first blow comes down upon your bare arse with a resounding Crack!

White-hot pain flares across your bottom, racing up your spine like wildfire and tearing a strangled whimper from your throat. 

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt—

Crack!

Crack!

Holy fuck. 

The impact of the leather against your naked cheeks leaves strips of fire burning in its wake, expelling all the air from your lungs in a choked-out rush. 

“P-Please, no, Wan’,” you beg breathlessly, struggling in vain even as coils of vibrant scarlet hold you fast, “it hurts, please—”

Crack!

“This is for your own good, baby,” Wanda coos, sounding for all the world as though she truly believes every word of it. 

Crack! This one lands directly across your sit spot, ripping a shriek from your lips as molten agony rocks you to your core. 

“Wan’—Fuck, please, no—”

Crack!

“G—God, fuck, pleasestop, please—”

Crack!

“P—Please, hurtssobad, I’m—”

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

“FUCK !”

Tears stream down your cheeks, wetting the black duvet beneath your face. You’re absolutely beside yourself with torment, your bare ass aflame with a pain unlike any you’ve ever known. 

Crack!

Crack!

… And the hits just keep coming—raining down stripes of blistering heat across your sore, bruised buttocks; pummeling your throbbing, exposed rear until it feels as though the entire area has just become one puffy, pulsating bruise. 

Crack!

All the fight has completely gone out of you; now, your body completely slack—devoid of any resistance even as every hit seems to sear itself into your impossibly tender bottom like a third-degree burn… The pain is absolutely incredible, unlike any else you’ve ever known.

You’ll do anything—and you really do mean anything—to make it stop. 

“P-P-Please, stop it, Wanda, PLEASE—”

Crack! Another hit directly across your burning sit spot rips a watery sob from your throat, followed by—  

Crack!

Crack!

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating until you pass out. 

Crack!

Agony blackens the edge of your vision, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks as you await another strike… 

But it doesn’t come. 

Wh—?

“Have you learned your lesson, мила?” Wanda asks, and this time, her voice comes from closer… like she’s right beside you. 

You don’t have it in you to be startled when a feather-light kiss lands itself between your shoulder blades, nor when one hand begins stroking up and down your heaving torso in soothing motions. 

“Y-Yes! I—please, God, yes,” you babble, overwhelmed by the sensation of unadulterated pain branding every inch of your battered arse. “I promise I’ll never, ever, ever do it again, Wan’—Won’t ever be with anyone else—jus-just please stop hurting me—I’ll be so good, please—”

“Shh,” Wanda shushes you tenderly. You feel yourself twitch as the mattress suddenly dips beside you. “It’s okay, любима,” she soothes, coming to rest beside you. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

‘Breathe’...

Your pulse thunders in your ears; your ass is on fire with an anguish far beyond your years; and yet, there’s something undoubtedly soothing about her words as they wash over you in gentle waves… something that tells you you’re safe.  

Were you a little more lucid, you might’ve found that quite the nonsensical paradox—this feeling of safety and security with the woman who’d just beaten your arse raw without mercy no matter how you wailed and sobbed and begged for her to stop. 

But as it is, you’re not. 

Instead, you’re just broken and teary-eyed and in pain, and Wanda’s tenderness is a most welcome respite to alleviate that excruciating ache. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath, even if it burns your lungs something awful, and force yourself to let it out slowly. 

In, out. 

In, out.

In… out.

“That’s it, мила,” Wanda praises gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re doing so well… Just like that.” Her fingers come to rest beneath your chin, urging you to turn and face her…

And you do, far too exhausted to even think of doing anything other than what she tells you to. Your lungs burn; your nose runs; and the pain in your bottom hasn’t abated any—if anything, it’s intensified.

You’re more than happy to be given something else to focus on.  

When you look at her, her blue-green eyes are wet—glossy with tears.

“Wanda?” you manage weakly, feeling your brow crease with worry. “You ‘kay?”

Wanda sniffles, huffs out a watery-sounding laugh. “Yes, Y/N, I’m alright,” she whispers, then leans forth to plant a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. “I’m just so very, very proud of you.”

Despite yourself, you feel a pleased flush spread throughout your body at that. “Really?” you mumble, exhaustion drooping your eyelids until it’s a challenge just to keep them open. 

Wanda nods, a tear sliding out of her eye that you yearn to reach forth and catch with your thumb—but alas, you’re far too weak. “Really.” 

You hum, burrowing your face further into the duvet beneath your cheek—even if it is still damp with your tears. “‘M sorry I was bad, Wan’,” you murmur, feeling darkness near on every side. “Didn’t mean’ta make you upset.”

“I don’t like punishing you, принцеса,” she says once more, and this time, you have no reason to doubt that she means it. Honestly, you don’t know how you ever could. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

You hum again. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open. “‘M sorry,” you say. “Gonna do better… make you proud… I promise.”

Wanda chuckles. The sound of it makes your chest feel loose and warm and happy. “You already do, darling girl,” she murmurs. You don’t know if it’s because she’s whispering, or you’re fading into sleep, but you can barely hear her when she repeats it once more: “You already do.”

Sleep descends upon you, then, and you succumb to it willingly, feeling safer and more at peace than you have in a very long time. 

— —

tagging:

[marvel]: @normanijauregui​

— —

end notes: yeah i don’t know what this is either. i was only aiming for maybe 1,000 words or something, but things happened and...

look. i haven’t been to therapy in a hot minute, ok?

link to masterlist

#stuff i wrote #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #f!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark fic #mcu fic #marvel fic #scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch #reader-insert #requested

[novelconcepts]

i think always about the scene where dani and flora were about to escape the manor before viola showed up, and flora asks where are they going dani said “i don’t know” or something. do you think that if they succeed to leave the house dani would’ve tried to reach jamie? after all they in theory had a date in the pub, so in theory dani knew the little flat above the pub…

It's complete luck, Dani will think later. True idiot luck, nothing more--maybe the first lucky thing to happen in the last hour. Absolutely, they shouldn’t find the village at all. Absolutely, they shouldn’t have managed it: a grown woman with no car, no idea where she’s going, and an eight year old girl sobbing against her shoulder as she runs. They should wind up lost in the dark, staggering desperately in a circle, maybe turning right back up where they started. 

Utter luck, that the adrenaline holds out, that the darkness doesn’t swallow them whole, that she finds herself stumbling through the door of a ramshackle little pub with Flora. Shouldn’t happen. Some tiny part of her wonders if this isn’t the magic of Bly, extending far beyond the reach of that house. Some tiny part of her thinks, If it can reach this far, what’s stopping them from doing the same?

“Hey,” the old man behind the bar snaps. “You can’t bring her in here!”

“Please.” Her head is pounding. Her throat is raw. Screaming hoarsely into a gag will do that to a person. “Please, I’m looking for--for Jamie...”

She trails off, realization striking: she doesn’t even know Jamie’s last name. A woman she somehow feels she’s known forever, a woman she is painfully certain she is already growing to love in ways Eddie couldn’t have pulled out of her with an infinite lifetime, and she doesn’t know her last name. It would be hysterically funny, if she could remember what laughter tasted like. 

More good luck, sweeping in like a thunderstorm: the old man is nodding, though he still looks uneasy at the sight of Flora’s puffy red eyes. At the sight, too, of Dani’s rubbed-raw mouth. They must look awful, a pair of ghosts in their own right, crashing into the easy calm of his night. 

“She know you’re comin’?” he asks gruffly, and Dani shakes her head. “But she knows you.”

He’s looking at Flora, and Dani wonders if the small-town awareness Owen has spoken of with such irritation extends to the Wingrave children. Probably. Probably everyone in town knows the miserable story of two orphans left to cope in that big old haunted house. 

“She knows,” Dani says, when it becomes clear Flora is incapable of her usual boisterous chatter. “Please. Can you call her?”

He makes a face, his hand straying to the black plastic handset behind his head. “Fine, but if you’re lyin’, it’s only fair I warn you she's got a temper--”

Dani lowers Flora onto a stool, leans her weight against the bar, presses a hand to her head. This is insane, she tells the spooling pressure in her chest where air does not seem willing to flow. This is insane, to think there are ghosts pulling at the Wingrave children’s strings, pulling at Miles even now.

Miles. She left him. She left Miles, Rebecca Jessel’s warm voice still ringing in her ears. It’s too late. Too late. Too--

“Dani?” Jamie’s voice, just behind her. She can’t bring herself to lift her head and look. It’d be so much sweeter to remember her last image of Jamie instead, the last glimpse of normalcy drunk greedily in with no knowledge of what would come next. There will be other nights. Promise. Jamie’s hands curled around her own. Jamie’s kiss pressed to her lips with uncharacteristic euphoria. Jamie had giggled, and Dani had felt ten feet tall, the luckiest woman in the world, the richest--

“Flora.” Jamie is bending, a hand pressed to Flora’s face, smoothing back the sweaty mess of her hair. “What’s going on? Where’s Miles? What are you--”

Flora makes a hitching sound, and Dani imagines trying to explain it--not to Jamie, who believes her so readily even when there’s no reason, but to Henry. Henry Wingrave, trusting her with his brother’s children. Henry Wingrave, who she’ll have to face and say, Sir, I did my best, but you never warned me about the ghosts--

“C’mon.” Jamie’s uttered that word once before, an incontrovertible command. Last night, taking Dani’s hand in the kitchen, leading her out to take in flowers and stories. She doesn’t quite do it the same way now--her hand brushes the small of Dani’s back instead of her fingers, urging her gently along--but Dani can hear that same calm charge in her voice. It’s as though Jamie understands something has broken, and has chosen stability in answer to the too-big horror strangling Dani’s ability to explain. 

She lets herself be propelled through the pub, through a door at the back, up a flight of stairs. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she’s loosely aware that it shouldn’t be this way--that she should have visited Jamie’s flat for the first time on Jamie’s schedule, in Jamie’s truck, with Jamie grinning at her over a beer. But, then, what about tonight has gone to plan? What about tonight has been right?

“Sit,” Jamie says, urging her visitors toward a lumpy couch at the center of the small room. She looks calm, though Dani suspects it’s the kind of calm that might at any moment crack open. “Talk.”

An invitation, more than a demand. Dani buries her head in her hands.

“It’s crazy. It’s crazy.”

“You ran here in the dark,” Jamie says. “You ran here in the dark with Flora. Wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t bad.”

Shouldn’t have done it at all. Should have called Jamie--run through the house in search of Hannah--done any number of things that wasn’t a flat sprint over unfamiliar ground into town. Should have kept her head. 

“Miles,” she says, and almost shatters right there. Her head is a land mine, pulsing warning. Her chest aches. Jamie is kneeling on the floor, she realizes, her hands busy at Flora’s face, her hands, searching for sign of damage. Dani inhales. “She’s--she’s okay. Rebecca made sure of it.”

Jamie looks up sharply. “What?”

Dani knows what she looks like, what she must sound like: a rumpled, ragged mess spouting dead women’s names like she has any right to them. Still, Jamie isn’t staring at her like she’s crazy. She’s watching with guarded eyes, her hands--satisfied that Flora is, physically, unharmed--moving to Dani. 

“What about Rebecca?”

“She let us go.” Jamie’s thumb is pressing very gently to her jaw, tilting her head to give the lamplight room to spill over her skin. She hears a breath catch, hears Jamie make a tiny, wounded sound at the sight of the skin rubbed red around Dani’s mouth. “She told me to take her and run.”

And I shouldn’t have. I’ve never listened to ghosts before. Why start now?

“Rebecca,” Jamie repeats. Her hand slips behind Dani’s head, gently inspecting; she finds the knot soon enough, Dani’s telltale gasp of pain pulling something taut behind her eyes. “Fuck, Dani, what--”

“Peter.” Flora’s voice is very small, a shock of unexpected color amidst Jamie’s usual palette. “Peter said we were helping.”

The calm in Jamie does not just break at those words; it erupts, her entire body revolutionized by her sudden rage. She’s got a temper, the old man had said, and Dani’s seen notes of it--at the rose bushes, hoisting a shotgun in the dark--but never quite like this. She stands abruptly straight, her shoulders pulling back, her expression livid. 

“What,” she says, “do you mean, helping?”

It spills out in a chaotic rush--Flora, mostly, explaining through hiccups. Dani supplements where she can, as if she understands any of it. As if she hasn’t, in some part of her throbbing brain, wondered all this time if the evening wasn’t a hallucination born of her concussion. 

“He hit you,” Jamie says. Not a question. “Tied you up. In the attic. And he took Miles.”

Those are, Dani thinks wearily, the bullet points. “He said they were trapped. That the house would wear them away. Rebecca wouldn’t...”

“'Course not,” Jamie says hotly. “’Course she wouldn’t. Fucking Quint.”

Dani blinks up at her. Her vision is gray around the edges, she realizes. Can’t be a good sign. She shivers. “You believe us?”

A little of the rage melts out of Jamie at this--her eyes softening just a bit, her fingers uncurling from a fist. She almost smiles. “You two? Best people I fuckin’ know, why wouldn’t I believe you?”

“Because it’s crazy,” Dani says hollowly. “It’s crazy, but--” But that little boy had stood wrong, with Peter pulling his strings. That sweet, lovely little boy had gone hard around the mouth, had gone steely at the shoulders, had held himself like a man three times his age and thirty times more capable of cruelty. 

“I believe you,” Jamie says simply. She gives Dani’s shoulder a squeeze, Flora’s hair a gentle ruffle. “I believe you.”

The flat is quiet after that, for a while. Wrung out, Flora is dozing against the arm of the couch before she seems to know it. Jamie gestures for Dani to stand, the pair of them gently shifting Flora until she is resting comfortably on a throw pillow. She breathes like she’s still preparing a scream, like she is still ready to charge back into that house after her brother, even as Jamie drapes a blanket over her small frame. 

She leads Dani to the bathroom, then, sets her down on the toilet seat. Her hands are steady as ever, gentle as she administers a warm cloth to Dani’s scraped skin--cleaning around her mouth, around wrists that have been chafed nearly bloody--and a bundle of ice to the back of Dani’s head. Dani chases a handful of aspirin with cool water and tries to look as though the whole world isn’t swimming away from her. 

“It’s bad,” she says. “It’s so bad, Jamie. I couldn’t do anything.”

Jamie makes a soft sound of acknowledgment. Dani’s wrist is upturned in her hand, her fingers skimming lightly across rope burn. Dani barely feels it. 

“What if--” She doesn’t want to give it voice. Doesn’t want to admit it’s even possible. Isn’t there something to be said for the power of belief, unpredictability shaped by human faith? “What if he really is gone for good? How do I explain that? How do I live with that?”

Jamie raises her eyes. “Not gonna have to find out.”

Dani frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.” She turns, drops the wet cloth in the sink, clicks the cap back onto the bottle of pills. “Didn’t let Quint get away with this shite in life. Don’t think for a fuckin’ moment I’d let him do it now.”

Dani shakes her head. “It’s too late--Rebecca said--”

“Love Rebecca.” Her voice is strangled when she says this, as though Jamie is speaking through the entire last year of grief at once. “Loved Rebecca, sister I never had. But she didn’t know everything. Christ, even just getting wound up with him--she makes mistakes, too.”

“But--”

“Dani.” Jamie takes her face between steady hands. Even just this easy proximity, the sweep of her breath not far from Dani’s own, settles something Dani thinks has been screaming most of her life. “I promise. Whatever we have to do--whatever it takes--we’ll fix this.”

“We’ll fix a ghost,” Dani says flatly. Jamie smiles, leaning in until her forehead knocks lightly against Dani’s own. 

“We’ll fix Miles. Kid’s been through too much already. I’ll be damned before I let Quint have him.”

It’s just as insane a thing to say as the rest of the night. Jamie doesn’t know--can’t know--how to make this right. Jamie is just one woman, though maybe the best person Dani’s ever been fortunate enough to find. Jamie can’t turn back time. 

Still. She almost forgets that, watching her make phone calls--to Owen, and to the house, where it rings and rings and Hannah never picks up. She almost forgets that Jamie is not a superhero, as she presses the ice pack to Dani’s head with one hand and says into the receiver, “Quint, yeah. Dunno how. Does it matter?”

She almost forgets that they are not superheroes when Owen knocks on the door. That they are only an au pair, a gardener, a cook, and a little girl. That they are no match for whatever the house has become over the years. She almost forgets. 

Because the set of Owen’s mouth is uncompromising for the first time since she’s met him. Because Flora, refreshed from her nap and no longer tilting toward tears, is grim in the seat beside him. Because, thigh warm against her own in the backseat, Jamie is holding her hand like it’s never crossed her mind to let go. 

They are not superheroes. They are not prepared for the ghosts of Bly Manor. They don’t know where Hannah is, how Rebecca is holding on, what Quint will do in Miles’ body. They don’t know anything at all. 

But they are going back. Because some stories need changing. Because some tragedies cannot be simply accepted. Because Peter Quint deserves to be put in his place, and Miles Wingrave deserves a life of freedom, and whatever’s gone wrong at the great, good place--their home--can be set right. Dani can feel that, way down beneath the headache and the fear. It can be, even if she doesn’t yet know how.

You, she thinks, looking from Owen at the wheel, Flora seatbelted carefully in, Jamie running a thumb over her knuckles. Me, she thinks, watching her own battered face in the rearview mirror. Us, she thinks, remembering the dinner table earlier that night, Hannah’s smile, the music of their mingled laughter. 

This can be fixed. Somehow. It must be.

“Right,” she says in a voice much stronger than she expects as they pull up the long drive. “Step one: find Miles.”

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani clayton #dani x jamie #I suspect this was a question more than a prompt but I've gotten it prompted a number of times #and...thought why not

[blahkugo]

Manual

Terushima Yūji x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 4.5k

TW: dub/noncon (noncon filming & voyeurism), manipulation, drugs (weed and alcohol), implied virginity, degradation, exhibitionism, daddy kink

A night of danger and debauchery with the city’s infamous drug dealer. 

It was a simple enough text that started it, but you’re not even sure how he got a hold of your number. A few days ago, a plain ‘hey’ had flashed across your screen and before you knew it, you were agreeing to go for a ride in his speedy car. ‘How fast is it?’ you had asked as an attempt to stall the conversation. But it was his reply that settled it for you: ‘As fast as you want it.’ 

It’s stupid how easily swayed you were, but the words left a knot in your stomach that you had never encountered before. Like a ship setting its anchor on the seafloor, though not one of anxiety nor tension caused by any of the usual stressors of your life—something entirely alien. The real issue wasn’t its unfamiliarity, but how much you took pleasure in it. And as ships do, the feeling set sail as quickly as it appeared, and you were left wistful and aching for its return. 

Never had you been like your classmates at the private school, who used familial wealth to excuse week-long benders and avoid lengthy jail sentences, because never had you felt that depravity necessary. But as you make your way down the block, you envision daddy waking up to find his little girl simply vanished, and you can’t help the wicked smile that spreads across your face.

When you arrive at the grimy, red sports car— music blasting through the open windows despite the dead quiet of the block— that ball of thrill settles in your gut yet again. As long as you’re in the company of Terushima Yūji, you’re well aware that the feeling isn’t going to go away.   

The car is low. So low, in fact, that you have to balance a hand on the roof and slide in legs first. How does he even drive around in this metal death trap without scraping the asphalt? Your leather skirt bunches and slips further up your thighs no matter how hard you tug it lower. 

“Alright?” It’s the only form of greeting he calls out to you over the ear-splitting music. Terushima eyes your lustrous, bare legs resting in the passenger seat of his beat-up Camaro, but doesn’t bother turning down the tune. He’s not very polite, but you didn’t exactly accept his offer to be drowned in refinement, did you? 

“I’m okay,” you shout, struggling to be heard over the booming voice rapping about ‘drugs and bitches.’ Typical. “How are you?” You’re not sure if it’ll break the ice, not even sure he wants to speak at all, but anything’s better than fidgeting awkwardly in your chair with nothing but the god awful music to drown out your anxiety.

He mumbles back a simple reply, fixing his gaze on your breasts straining against the tight, low cut tank. You fished the two-piece outfit out of the depths of your wardrobe, a revealing number borrowed from a friend that you never even bothered trying on before tonight. His stare has you itching to cross your arms over your chest, but you hold out. You can’t have him thinking you’re a prude, even if it is the truth. 

His hand grips the stick shift lazily and before you know it, the engine is rumbling and you’re peeling away from the curb. Terushima’s driving is every bit as reckless as you assumed, stop signs appearing to be soft suggestions rather than mandatory decrees. The residential roads are practically deserted, but the lack of caution has your heart racing wildly all the same, fingers clutching at your seat. As the adrenaline rushes through your veins, your stomach sinks further into the frayed leather seat. 

When the music is shut off abruptly, you believe he must finally want to speak to you, perhaps even exchange pleasantries— but the next words out of his mouth are a sly, 

“Do me a favor, yeah?” You nod, before realizing his eyes are still fixed on the road ahead. It’s not like it matters anyways, because he continues on as if you had answered him. “Grab the bottle under your seat for me, princess.” Princess. It’s uttered so nonchalantly, but there’s a certain edge to his tone— the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt. You don’t like it, but logical as your brain may be, your stomach still swirls with butterflies. 

Swiping at the floor, you search until your fingers make contact with glass. Low and behold, you pull out a bottle of– 

“Smirnoff,” your eyes scan the label intently, attempting to place the emblem among the liquors you’ve seen at the country club. While you weren’t exactly expecting a water bottle— that’d be much too off brand for Terushima— you aren’t too keen on the idea of reckless and intoxicated driving. He glances towards you once, but doesn’t make a move towards the drink at all. 

Only a few seconds later, he shoots you another look, single brow raised in quiet anticipation. The long-forgotten burdens of high school peer pressure washes over you again, fingers quivering as you unscrew the cap. 

You’ve never had vodka straight out of the bottle, never had vodka in general except for when it’s mixed into your cocktails. But his expectation weighs heavy in the confined space. So, fuck it. What did you come out with him for if not to live a little? 

Nail polish remover, children’s cough syrup, and liquid fire. That’s all you taste as the lukewarm fluid glides down your throat. The burn is unbearable, but a pool of warmth oozes through your chest and your hand relaxes a bit on the edge of your seat. You don’t even realize that you’re coughing.

“First time drinking?” He offers you a lazy smirk, tone edged in ridicule. 

“What?” Holding your breath, you silently beg the itch in your throat to disappear. “No, I- I have wine with dinner.” 

The laugh that rumbles through his throat is deep and hoarse, much too loud to be laughing at your comment— and thus, is only perceivable as taunting. Even so, you can’t deny the seduction threaded into his smoky vocals, or the wire deep within your core, pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment. 

“Wine,” he snickers again. “You’re funny, you know that?” He swipes the booze out of your hands and chugs. If there’s ever a proper time to start worrying, it’d be now. But at least he stops for lights? 

Besides, you can’t say you’re not enjoying the view. Terushima’s defined jaw ruts outward with every swill, his lips puckered towards the bottle as if his life depends on it. As cautious as you should be, he’s too pretty to keep your eyes focused anywhere else; your mouth surely knows it, practically salivating at his Adam's apple, bobbing as he gulps. If you reach your hand out just a few inches, you can run your fingertips against it and–

“Gross,” he pushes the bottle back towards you. 

“Black cherry,” you counter, as if it’s an explanation for the disgusting taste. 

“Is that the flavor I nicked? Damn, wasn’t paying enough attention,” he shrugs. 

“Nicked?” Mouth agape, you stare intently at the side of his face and hope for a valid answer. 

“Bottle looked lonely, so I swiped it,” he brushes a finger at the alcohol trickling down his lip; one of your own digits twitches in envy. “Is that too criminal for you, princess?” 

So he is mocking you. The vodka must be melting your brain, because all your body comes up with in response is a wind chime of a soft laugh— an entirely foreign noise to your ears. It must be a mistake, or the music playing tricks on your hearing, because you don’t giggle. 

Still, according to Terushima’s awful pet name, you have something to prove. Not sure how else to shut him up, you opt for the easiest way out. 

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” The bottle meets your lips and liquid fire waltzes through you again. Seconds pass as you chug, the haziness of your last sip urging you to down just a teensy bit more. Just enough to get you tipsy, just enough to prove him wrong, just enough to drown out the voice in your head claiming this is a terrible idea. 

This time, you don’t cough. 

“‘Atta girl.” 

Then, you’re drinking, and he’s drinking, and the two of you are having the grandest of times. Never mind the fact that he’s consumed far less alcohol than you have, or that lines are blurring and you’re no longer able to see straight. Gone is the anxiety you were plagued with upon meeting him and the worries that shadow you day and night in your regular life. And that’s all that really matters. 

He blasts the music once again. Maybe it isn’t as terrible as you originally thought. A deep, pumping bass resonates through every bone in your body and Terushima seems to be pressing the pedals harder with every beat. 

Up you go, higher, higher— higher?

Your eyes have been scouring the mischievous man next to you so intently that you never bothered to ask where you were going. But can you blame yourself? Even now, as you round up the side of a cliff, every thought passing through your murky brain pertains to him. 

His lazy half smile that won’t drop, as if he’s keyed in on a secret that’s all his own, lidded eyes that make him look entirely apathetic and alluring all at once. Hell, even his fingers are beautiful. Slender and graceful, one hand is placed leisurely at the wheel and the other is shifting the gear stick with meticulous precision. Terushima Yūji has always struck you as raw and vulgar, but now you see there’s a sense of finesse to him as well— and of course, you’d need to be halfway into a drunken stupor to truly notice it. 

You’re shaken from your thoughts once he cracks the windows, hair whipping around violently. If you only knew the lyrics to any of these songs, you’d be singing along. Instead, you settle for kicking your legs out the window and tapping your fingers to the beat. Who cares that your fingers are moving too slowly to match the rhythm? 

Terushima says nothing at your erratic behavior, only smirks when your head leans against his shoulder and you stare idly up at him. Relief. It’s the only identifiable emotion you’re able to place in the midst of this haze. Yes, the world is foggy and black spots take over half your vision. But you hold onto that feeling— the breeze, the weightlessness. All the while, the anchor in your gut makes its home further into the sand. 

“We’re here,” he chuckles, pointing at your windswept hair when you turn to him. It’s the first time his laugh sounds genuine, bubbling up naturally instead of forced and vicious. And he’s finally looking at you; not in stolen glances, with eyes glazed over in mockery or lust, but truly looking at you. You break out of the murkiness clouding your brain to catch what ‘here’ is, only to gasp at the sight in front of you. 

He’s brought you to the very top of a cliff, overlooking the city. Cars and buildings seem nothing more than blips on a map, insects to your God-like view. 

As beautiful as they are, the dazzling lights of the world below you pale in comparison to the deity seated inches away. It’s difficult to believe that you had never once taken notice of him, though your younger self filed him away as a troublemaker—an invaluable waste of space— based on gossiped knowledge and without a second glance. 

“Y’know what I never noticed?” You’re well aware the words tumble out a whine, drawn out and a bit slurred, but proper diction is the last thing on your mind. “You’re really pretty.” As soon as you’ve said it, your face is set ablaze. Control yourself. 

“Pretty? Haven’t heard that one before,” he throws his head back and you’re struck with that gruff, raspy laugh once again.

“But you are,” you’re unable to contain yourself at all now, all proper thoughts replaced by the cut of his cheekbones, the messy bleached hair tumbling over his sleek undercut— and best yet, the tiny piece of metal prodding through his tongue and now balanced between his teeth. “A pretty bad boy, with pretty teeth, and a pretty piercing, and you texted me why?” With the hurried words, another wave of heat spikes your body. 

Perhaps his eyes brighten at your little confession, or perhaps his face gives away nothing. You can’t really tell much of anything.

“You really wanna know?” You nod hungrily at his whisper, his hushed tone teeming with temptation. Terushima creeps closer, so much so that you feel his breath fanning your face. Underneath the overwhelming scents of cigarettes and booze, he smells a bit like tea leaves. Strange, but pleasant. “Are you sure?” He’s smirking now, obviously finding your curiosity entertaining. 

At the same time, one of his hands inches towards you— cautiously, deliberately, like a predator creeping towards its skittish prey. You tremble in your seat, unsure why the proximity has your heart beating out of its chest. 

All at once, his hand shoots past you and towards the glove compartment. Terushima lets out a snicker, flashes you a brilliant set of teeth, and proudly offers you nothing: “Sorry, not tellin’ you.” 

Your slurred gripes do nothing to sway the tease, who’s now engrossed by the itty bitty ziploc baggie he pulled from the glovebox. Though your head is spinning, you yourself can’t help but feel enthralled by his movements— staring shamelessly as he sprinkles the weed onto paper. His fingers prove precise yet again as he rolls the greens into pretty little cylinders. 

Almond eyes meet yours only when he brings the wrap to his lips, gazing directly at you while his tongue slides across the paper. A chill prickles across your skin, but there’s only heat within the parked car. 

Before you know it, he’s extending a large hand towards you, silently willing you to take the first hit. Somewhere far away, you hear your own voice mumbling, ‘I don’t know how to.’ As hard as you try to put up a front, to exude sex and confidence in front of this well-versed man, you’re not quite sure you can pretend your way through this one. 

A wispy laugh, a sly comment and a wink later, two of his fingers have the joint pressed between your lips. ‘I’ll teach you,’ he promises, instructing you on precisely how to breathe. You barely register the palm fastened at your chest. Is he being a creep? Maybe he’s just trying to help. Either way, you don’t pay it much mind. 

And then, smoke fills your lungs, fills your head, fills the already-depleting air of his tiny car. You’re coughing again, but he warned you of the burn this time, and ‘besides, it’ll get you higher.’ 

You were hoping to see chalky hues of pinks and blues, but the drug does nothing but provide you with lidded eyes and a tingle that runs from head to toe. A single stroke of your finger against the leathered seat sends waves of shivers throughout your arm. Your palm splayed against your own thigh feels unfamiliar and ticklish. 

The buzz is only truly worth it when you finally turn to look at the wicked man next to you; Terushima has a slick smile dancing across his face, eyes heavy and probing you for any sort of reaction. The bleached blonde hair at the top of his head pales under the moonlight, suddenly seeming impossible to resist. When you reach out to grasp a strand, he moves quicker, gripping your fingers tightly between his. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His low drawl is lazy, more amused than genuinely angry. But your fingers twitch beneath his grasp all the same, completely embarrassed and still itching to touch his locks. “Princess doesn't know how to ask for things politely?” You don’t have to look into his eyes to feel the smugness radiating off of him. 

“No, I-” There’s no saving face now, and he knows it as well as you do. 

“Or are you just so used to getting what you want?” Even as he taunts you, his digits thread through yours, pulling you towards him so that your hands hover over his lips. “Is this what you wanted?” 

You shake your head, but the thought of grazing his pillowy lips— of your trembling fingers exploring that tiny metal ball in his mouth— is now etched into your clouded brain. 

“No? What about here?” He trails your digits down his crisp t-shirt, stopping only when you’ve reached his midriff. You should stop, should adhere to the yellow tape bound around this entire encounter; instead, you stare at the blonde with wide eyes, tongue poking out of your mouth as you debate your answer. He breathes an airy laugh, “use your words.” 

But before you can, his lips are meshing into yours. And here are the hues of the pinks and blues you so desperately wished to see, hidden in his caress all this time. There’s heat, and heat, and more heat— and a quiet hum traveling from the very tip of your mouth to your toes, as you melt together. 

When he releases your hands, they fly towards his hair, finally tugging at the soft pieces. A simple clasp of your waist and you’re moaning into his mouth, a warm welcome for his tongue to slide in. Embers spread through the tiny space, setting your lungs ablaze far quicker than any drug could. His cool, metal piercing tickles the roof of your mouth; if you were coherent enough, you may wonder what it would feel like skimming other stretches of skin. 

But your thoughts are cotton candy melting at his touch and allowing one, singular thought: him, him, him. 

Your sugar-spun mind loses track of the time he spends pressed into you. Seconds, minutes, hours later, he finally pulls away, the long string of saliva between you the only remnant of your lip-locked endeavors. 

“It’s getting late,” his words are a whisper, a break in the heavy silence of heaving chests and spinning minds. You’d have thought the infamous heartbreaker would urge for more, and a part of you wishes that he would. But instead, he drives you back down the cliffside in silence, his hand on your thigh rooted in place, keeping you longing for another taste. 

Only when you’re coming down from the high, still a bit tipsy, do you realize you’re almost home. Terushima’s fingers still play at the hem of your skirt, stroking at the fire deep in your gut. With all his teasing, you figure you may as well make your move now. 

“You can pull over here,” you instruct, happy to have found your usual domineering voice. Perhaps it was buried under the weight of weed and wandering lips. 

“Your house is another block away,” he refutes with a grumble, but heeds your demand anyways. When he turns to you, you’re caught in that bewitching gaze, finding yourself at a loss for words yet again. “Anything else you need?” The words are laced with possibility, a dangerous challenge. But any gall you felt coursing through your veins has vanished without a trace. 

“No- I- I should get home,” your eyes drop, staring at a loose thread on his pants— and all at once, moving to leave the car. “Daddy’ll be mad if he catches me out.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s chuckling, repeating them.

“Daddy will be mad? You still call your father daddy?” And there’s the Yūji Terushima you thought you knew, mockery and taunts always at the tip of his tongue. You throw a weak punch against his chest, huffing in confusion. 

“What’s so wrong with that?” 

“Nothing,” He exclaims a bit too smugly, climbing out himself.

Next thing you know, you’re caught between his body and the hood of the car, sturdy arms trapping you in place. Chilled air nips at your bones; a single skim of his knee against your thigh and that cold is forgotten. You really should be at home. 

“Terushima.” It’s funny how a single word— a person’s name— can contain a thousand different meanings. You’re not even sure how you say it, questioning the inflections of your cracked voice and wide eyes. He whispers your name right back, the gleam in his eyes magnifying tenfold. 

You’re well aware he has you right where he wants you, a little bird caught in a cage, though you’re more than happy to be singing any song he asks. 

But there’s only silence as you stare at each other beneath the flickering street light. So much so, you can hear your hearts pump blood, can hear the engine of a car rumbling by, can even hear your neighbor’s pesky dog barking a block away. 

“Do you need something, or do you just like saying my na–”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. 

It feels different now. Perhaps your nerves aren’t frenzied, and you don’t attain euphoria with every graze. But you feel him. You can taste the smoke on his tongue as it knocks against your teeth. Black cherry floods your brain, the same flavor that drifted you up that cliffside to begin with. 

Terushima’s hands grab at your waist before you’re hoisted up and placed on the hood of the car. Gone are the lazy kisses of two heads in the clouds. His movements are quick and decisive, aggressive even. A hand roams your body, trailing under your tank and across your breasts. The other shoves aside your panties, nimble fingers circling your bud. 

A low whimper leaves you when he runs a digit across your slit. 

“Careful,” hot breath fans your lips as he chuckles, “too loud and he’ll hear us.” 

But you can’t stop your wanton mewls. Not when he dips into you, curling his fingertips to hit a spot that has you seeing stars. Not when his teeth nip at your jaw, your neck, the shell of your ear— leaving soft marks behind. And most certainly not when you can feel his cock straining against your thigh. 

“Fuck, Teru I–”  Within minutes, your entire body trembles, hands clutching at soft hair as you chase your high. 

“Tell daddy what you want,” his eyes pierce into yours, completely unashamed of his perversion of the pure term. You try to shake your head no, to refuse his order— but he simply flicks his wrist quicker, pumps into you faster. You’re so fucking close, too near the edge to care, so you simply allow the words to tumble out, 

“Daddy p-please, I want to cum.” 

A few circles on your clit, and you’re putty in his hands. The high hits you with a loud, leg-shaking cry— far more dizzying than any of the debaucheries of hours past. 

You’re flipped over without a moment to breathe, breasts rammed into the frigid car hood. Terushima pulls your skirt up with one hand, the other nudging your cheek firmly against the metal. 

Never would you have thought you’d be one for such public indecency, but the elation of your last orgasm still hasn't even completely resided. For the third time tonight, you find yourself drunk off the ambrosia of this wayward god.  

“Beg for it,” he slides his cock up your slit, coating his thick member in your slick. 

“Please Teru,” you whine helplessly. A loud slap echoes through the empty street as his hand meets the globe of your ass, the pain more shocking than painful. 

It reminds you that anyone could walk out of their homes to see you being railed against a beat up car— and the thought of one of your neighbors waking up to that sight wracks your body with a twisted pleasure. 

“What was that?” The bastard actually laughs, gruff and hearty, as you writhe against him. 

“Daddy, I need you.” And then he’s thrusting into you, pushing into the tight ring of muscle. Though he prepped you, you claw at the car, searching for any sort of relief from the overwhelming pain. 

A few snaps of his hips later, you relax as the stretch becomes bearable. He takes his time rutting into you, spreading your legs further, making sure you feel every inch of him deep inside you. 

Only when you begin bouncing back to meet his drives does he quicken his pace, a single hand gripping your waist— five finger-shaped bruises you’re sure will be evidence for days to come. You barely recognize your own voice; high-pitched wails spill from your lips, curses and pleas and cries of ‘daddy’ like a broken record on replay. 

“Look at the little slut, creaming all over me,” a particularly hard thrust sends you reeling, tears flowing freely down your face as you blabber mindlessly. “Who’d have thought the city’s very own ‘prude princess’ would be blacking out over some dick?” 

You should be ridiculed, would be utterly offended by the insult, if not for the fact that his cock has you teetering the delicate line of consciousness. Those words are precisely what send you over the edge for the second time tonight. 

“Fuck, stay right there,” a low, gravelly groan as Terushima continues pounding into you. Then, a few more prods and he’s following suit, pulling out to spill his seed all over your backside. 

Vision still spotty, you finally turn to look at the beautiful man, hoping for rosy cheeks and that soft smile you believe is a secret saved just for you. Instead you’re met with a dull frown and a look of pure apathy. 

He won’t even meet your eyes. 

“Can you walk the block or should I drive you?” Though he poses the question, the lack of his typical liveliness tells you everything you need to know about his preference: he doesn’t have one. 

Somewhere far away, you hear yourself tell him you’ll walk. Your head’s still caught on cloud nine, or perhaps it was only ever the ninth circle of hell—twisted and contorted by black cherry and rotten greens.

“Are you sure? You look a little shaken,” he laughs, that same hoarse tone you once thought charming now seeming gnarled and vicious. The taunts once endearing, now simply malicious. 

From the corner of your eye you spot his phone, unlocked and teeming with messages. A flash of a familiar black leather skirt bunching, a flip of your hair, pieces of your purity plastered across his screen for the world to see. 

You walk back home in silence. 

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu #terushima yuuji #terushima smut #terushima yuuji x reader #tw dubcon #tw manipulation #tw drugs #tw weed #tw alcohol #tw virginity #tw degradation #tw exhibitionism #tw daddy kink #tw noncon

[theonewiththefanfics]

Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic 

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs.        They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

       Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter.        He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two.        The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’.        Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call.        “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!”        Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.”        “You… are something else.”        She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?”        Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.”        “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?”        What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one.        “Only if it’s my treat.”        “But I was the one who asked you out.”        “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.”        Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?”        Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!”        Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach.        “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.”        Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that.        “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.”        That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.”        “I mean it kind of is.”        “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?”        “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?”        Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling.        “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink.        “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.”        The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes).        Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived.        “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.”        She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message.        Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?”        “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…”        She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?”        “You could say that, yeah.”        “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.”        Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.”        For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist.        “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.”        “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.”        At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.”        “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face.        “Swear it.”        “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.”        “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.”        “See ya’ in a bit.”        Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

       The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her.        “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it.        “Thank you. For being here.”        Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.”        When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs.        As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting.        “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs.        “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.”        Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it.        “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.”        By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.”        She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it.        “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.”        As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face.        “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.”        “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had.        Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest.        When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.”        “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!  When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.”        “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience.        “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!”        The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!”        “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe.        “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was.        “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him.        When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so.        “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”        “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.”        Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #1d fan fiction #1d #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles angst #eroda #harry styles eroda #all american rejects #give you hell #gives you hell

[twdeadfanfic]

Vows Pt.6

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Summary:

The last battle with Negan doesn’t go as it should, with Negan coming on top, and so reader, Daryl’s girlfriend, offers herself as a wife to Negan if he doesn’t kill Daryl or anyone else. Negan accepts, he won’t kill anyone but will take reader as a wife, and he’ll take Daryl and some of the others to the Sanctuary as prisoners, promising not to hurt anyone if reader is one of his wives and the communities work for him.

This has both flashbacks to reader and Daryl’s story since meeting to now, and the present with reader living at the Sanctuary as a wife, trying to keep Daryl and their people safe, and she and the other wives dealing with Negan, plotting… (This is not a Negan x reader fic!)

Warning, there are reader and Negan scenes in this chapter, but to make up for it, there’s also a flashback from when reader and Daryl got together.

Another few days passed, blurring with each other, and though your time with Negan still didn’t feel like routine, and you were pretty sure it’d never feel like that, you felt more and more like you wanted to take advantage of the situation and Negan’s crotch-driven brain like the other wives did…but you still weren’t good at playing him and keeping him happy as they did. Your biggest achievements were that you hadn’t slapped him again and that you hadn’t spat on him, which didn’t count much towards gaining likable points.

Finally, you decided to just go and ask for help. Abby was in the room that she shared with Frankie, while Frankie was in the main room watching one of the DVDs. You went to the room and flopped down next to Abby.

“I want to ask something from Negan,” you blurted out and Abby arched an eyebrow at you.

“What do you need? Maybe I can get it for you.”

“You can’t…” You let out a sigh. “I want to ask him to let my friend out of the cages sometimes.” They had been in there for days and days, they weren’t tortured, but it was pretty awful anyway.

“Pfff…yeah, no, you’re not getting it,” Abby said and you couldn’t even be annoyed. “I mean…don’t be mad. But you agreed to marry him, listen to him, and fuck him, and he doesn’t kill or torture your friends…he’s kept his end of the deal but…you barely keep yours, I’ve seen you just staring at nothing while he talks. We all think on something else while he talks and talks, but we smile and pretend to listen.” Abby chuckled.

“Yeah…yeah, I know…” You murmured…you felt like you had done enough by not snapping at him but you were supposed to pretend to be enraptured by whatever bullshit was he saying, and you…really didn’t feel like it.

“Also, fucking him…” Abby gave you a teasing look. “I bet you just lie there like a starfish…”

“Abby!” You gaped at her, flustered, and pushed her so she’d fall on the pillow. “Shut up!” She was laughing and you couldn’t help your own. “What do you want me to do, moan how good he is and what a big boy is he?” You snorted, that wasn’t you, even if it weren’t Negan.

“Actually, yes.” Abby chuckled. “But don’t go getting all crazy the next time he calls you, after being a starfish for weeks, he’ll know you’re trying to play him.”

You let out a sigh. “I really don’t think I can do it…”

“You can.” Abby squeezed your hand. Just…just start small, baby steps. Like, if he decides to talk to you, pretend that that time it’s something that interests you. If he makes a joke, let out a chuckle…like, maybe you didn’t mean to, you were trying not to laugh, but it was too funny even for grumpy you and you let out a chuckle against your will because he’s oh so funny he even made you laugh?”

You blinked at her. “Abby…there’s no way I can pull off that. It’s going to look staged, I’m going to look like a robot, it’s not going to be natural, he’s going to notice.”

“Just try.” Abby shrugged. “Is not that hard.”

“Yeah…I don’t know how you do it…”

You decided to try it, though, and so the next time that Negan was talking about something, you forced yourself to ask a question about it, as if you were interested in listening. Negan seemed confused and then pleased, as he turned his attention to you, talking to you about it, and you forced yourself to look like you were interested in it.

The next day, you tried to follow Abby’s idea, and when Negan said one of his stupid jokes, you let out a short and quiet chuckle, and Negan looked at you, arching an eyebrow.

“Well now…did I make Mss. Grumpy laugh?”

“No,” you scoffed, looking away, pretending that you hadn’t laughed on purpose but against your will.

“Oh…I’d say I did…” A smug grin spread across Negan’s face. “You laughed, sweetcheeks.”

“Yes, I saw it too,” Abby said, winking at you.

“Yeah…yeah, she did…” Negan kept looking at you with that smug face and you scoffed again, looking away, pretending to be embarrassed.

You kept that up, pretending to be interested in whatever Negan had to say, chuckling at some of his stupid jokes, for another couple of days, until Abby told you that you could try another step…you weren’t very sure you could though.

The idea now was to kiss back Negan whenever he kissed you, as if you really wanted to kiss him, and you weren’t sure if you could pull off that…

“Come on…pretend that you’re an actress, pretend to be someone else,” Abby tried to encourage you. “Some sort of seductress…” She winked at you and you snorted, shaking your head.

“I’m really not that…”

“Just pretend to be, you’re not yourself, you’re this hot seductress black widow…” Abby kept going, nudging you when you snorted again. “Come on…you must have seduced your man, I’m sure you’re more of a seductress than you think.”

“I’m really not…” You shrugged. “And Daryl…I don’t think I ever seduced him…”

Not even the first time that you’d tried to get with him, you had just gone ahead and kissed him, much to his shock…

Then…

You were at the CDC, sat down on the table after eating more food than you’d ever eaten since walkers began roaming the world. Everyone was happy, eating and drinking, celebrating, including Daryl. He was joking and drinking, smiling, you didn’t think you’ve seen him grinning like that before, and you had to admit that you liked it, he had a pretty smile, that seemed to light his whole face, the whole place, even…

You chuckled at yourself…what a bunch of corny shit, as Daryl would say, had you just thought. But it was true, Daryl was an attractive guy , there was no way of denying it, and it wasn’t the first time that you admired him.

You’d grown closer to him, during your weeks surviving together, and during the quiet nights at the quarry, or at least quiet when Merle shut up and fell asleep, in which you sat down next to Daryl in comforting silence, and sometimes you both even spoke…

Daryl could be a prick more often than not, he was harsh, sure he was. Just a day ago, you had a big, big fight with him, when he’d behaved like a prick after walkers attacked the quarry camp, when so many people had died…Even if you had tried to put in context that Daryl seemed to have just lost his brother, he’d been out of line, yelling those cruel things to everyone, as if he was heartless…but you knew he wasn’t heartless, you had seen his heart, how he seemed not to care, yet always helped you, how he strived to hunt and bring as much food as possible to the camp…but at that moment, he’d seemed to be a heartless asshole, and you’d been beyond upset and angry at him.

To your surprise, though, while you were packing your things, Daryl had gone to help you in silence, but you saw him stealing glances at you, and you thought he seemed remorseful. Later, you both had driven to the CDC in the pickup, sharing some words here and there, and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to be upset with Daryl. He seemed regretful, and so you had tried to move past your fight.

It was easy to forget about that now, with him smiling like that, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Yes…Daryl was an attractive guy, with those beautiful eyes, strong shoulders and arms…For a while now, you had idly thought now and then what it’d be like to have those arms wrapped around you, when you felt lonely, or sad, or lost, when your spirit was low…

It wasn’t just that he was attractive, though. If Daryl were a complete prick, you wouldn’t be wondering stuff like that, no matter how attractive he might be…but for weeks, you’d been wondering and thinking that Daryl was more than it seemed under all those layers of harshness…

As he drank and smiled now, teasing Glenn and just joking around, you couldn’t help a warm feeling in your belly, that got worse when you looked at Lori and Rick…you wanted that, or the closest thing possible, even if it was just for a night, but you didn’t want it with anyone, you wanted it with Daryl.

You weren’t sure how he’d react, though, or how to bring it up…what were you supposed to tell him? Do you want to hold me? We could even sleep together? Yeah…no…

Later, you walked with him back to your rooms for the night, still wondering how to ask Daryl, how to tell him what was in your head, if maybe it was a bad idea…but you really wanted it… His room was next to yours, and you called his name before he walked into his, still with no idea of what to say.

“Daryl…” You called for him, and he turned to look at you, arching an eyebrow. He smiled and it made something twirl in your belly… “I, uh…I was wondering…” That smile was just making it harder to focus and find words.  “How much have you drunk?”

Daryl snorted at that. “Dunno…more than in a while, why?”

“Just wondering if you’re drunk…I mean, you are…” You chuckled awkwardly. “But I mean, you know what you’re doing…right?” Otherwise, you wouldn’t try anything.

“I know what I’m doing.” Daryl was looking at you, seeming half confused half amused. “Might get drunker, though.” He waved the bottle of booze that he’d taken with him. “You wanna?” He lifted the bottle in your direction.

“No…no, I was thinking…wondering…” It couldn’t be that hard, why were you struggling to find words. “If maybe you wanted to…like…sleep in my room…” Well, sleep with you, rather, but those words didn’t make it past your lips.

Daryl frowned, and you were sure he was going to tell you off, but he seemed concerned. “You think this place ain’t safe?” Oh…he thought you were scared of sleeping alone in the room or that you didn’t trust the place…it was nice of him, to offer to stay with you if you were scared… Maybe you should content yourself with that…

“No…well, I don’t know, that doctor is a bit strange, but I don’t think that he’s going to murder us in our sleep…right?” Now that you had planted the seed in your brain, you couldn’t help but worry.

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think so…but yeah, there’s somethin’ off with the guy…Alright, if you wanna I can take watch while you sleep.” Daryl shrugged, looking down shyly.

“That’s not fair, you gotta sleep too, even more after all you drank…” You didn’t want Daryl not to sleep, in fact, you wanted him sleeping with those nice arms around you, and the fact that this night he seemed to have decided to be all caring and sweet wasn’t helping. “But…I didn’t mean that…what I mean…”

You felt stupid, struggling with words like that, and Daryl was looking at you with those caring and pretty eyes, and so you decided to just go ahead and show him, feeling braver with actions than with words. You stepped closer and leaned to peck his lips, feeling all kind of butterflies in your belly.

When you pulled back, Daryl looked at you with wide, surprised eyes. He seemed to want to say something, but no words made it past his lips as he just stared at you in shock, and you felt your cheeks heating up. “I’m sorry…I just…I didn’t…I…I’m sorry…” You rushed into your room, closing the door behind you, embarrassed…Daryl wasn’t drunk enough to not remember it in the morning, but you’d try to pretend that you’d been drunk and you didn’t remember that you had kissed him…this was going to be so awkward…

You face planted on the bed and you winced, that mattress was harder than you expected it. You shifted until you could bury your face on the pillow, the closest thing you can get to the earth swallowing you. Not much later, though, there were some knocks on the door.

You frowned and went to open the door, and when you found Daryl there, you almost freaked out. You didn’t know what to say, and Daryl wasn’t saying anything either, just looking at you as he chewed on his thumbnail, but then he made to walk in, and you automatically moved back so he could step into the room.

Daryl closed the door behind him and looked at you, still silent, and when you were about to ask if he needed something, awkward, he finally spoke.

“Why you did that?”

“Wha…kissing you?” You felt your cheeks heating again, and Daryl nodded, looking down. You considered saying that you were drunk, but Daryl didn’t seem mad…and so you decided to be brave and say the truth, if he reacted badly, you could keep your plan of pretending to have been drunk once morning came. “I just…I felt like it, I wanted to…”

Daryl was back at chewing his thumbnail, looking down, but then he glanced at you. “Yeah?” He murmured, and you nodded.

Daryl stepped closer at you and your heart sped up. His face was serious, and you wished you knew what was he thinking, but you couldn’t read him. Then, he leaned down and surprised you by pressing his lips to yours. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, and for a second, you were so shocked that you couldn’t kiss him back, but when you did, you felt Daryl’s hand cupping your cheek, fingers tangling in your hair, and you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him…

Now…

You had thought, back then, that it’d be a one-night thing between Daryl and you, unless he might want to join you any other night, but nothing else…you had been wrong. Since the next morning, Daryl had pretty much started treating you as if you were his girlfriend, and on your side, you weren’t about to complain, you had enjoyed it…little did you know, then, how deep and strong your relationship with Daryl would become.

But…you couldn’t say that you had “seduced” Daryl. You had just kissed him and hoped for the best. That wouldn’t work with Negan, considering that he kissed you whenever he wanted…maybe you should really start by kissing him back…

The next time that Negan kissed you, you forced yourself to kiss him back. Nothing spectacular, but you guessed that it was better than standing there frozen…

The other girls began sharing tips with you too, and also they’d try to boost your confidence in your seducing skills, either with words and tips, or dolling you up, doing your hair, makeup, choosing revealing outfits that you’d have never worn…every time that they did, you looked at yourself in the mirror, telling yourself that you weren’t you, but another woman, some sexy, seductive, black widow, on her way to eating another man for breakfast…

It was still hard to feel like that, though, you felt rather silly more often than not, but as you keep trying, practicing, and you kept looking so different from your usual self, you began to play your part better and better.

After a few days, you laughed at Negan’s bullshit and kissed him back easier, even tried to talk more “seductively” as some of the other girls were trying to teach you, even if you felt silly. In your head, you tried to see yourself as that other woman, that seductress, black widow, until one day you felt ready to try your luck and your skills at asking something from Negan.

You were sat down on his bed, half lying against the headboard, in which you hoped was a suggestive, seducing posture, even if you felt stupid, when the door opened and Negan walked inside, arching an eyebrow at you.

“So…they weren’t kidding when they said you were waiting for  me here…”

“I didn’t think it’d bother you…” You shrugged. “I wanted to see you alone.”

“Yeah?” Negan smirked, but he still seemed confused at what were you doing there. “You were alone with me a couple of days ago, but you need me again, don’t you?” He teased smugly and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I do need you,” you said, hoping to sound seductive. “I need…I need to ask you something.”

“Oh…there it is.” Negan chuckled, shaking his head and sitting on the bed. “You girls, always wanting something from me…sucking me dry and not in the way I want it.”

“We do suck you in the way you want it too,” you retorted and Negan let out a laugh.

“Yeah…that’s true…” Negan smirked, looking you up and down. “So tell me, doll…what is it.”

“I…” You tried to go back to when you’d rehearsed it with Abby. “I think I’ve been a good girl, so I deserve a treat, right?” You felt more silly than seductive speaking like that, but Negan just nodded, still looking at you with that smug smile. “I want…I want chocolate, I know you have some here…please?”

Negan blinked at you, and then he chuckled. “Chocolate? That’s what you wanted?”

You shrugged. “I love chocolate…we had some in Alexandria…please?”

“Chocolate…” Negan chuckled again…you guessed that he’d expected you to ask something more serious, but you wanted to wait for that until you had tried this first. “Of course, sweetcheeks, you’ve been a good girl these last days, I’ll get you your treat.” He reached out to stroke your hair and cup your face, and you did your best to smile. “You wait here, I’ll get it for you right now.”

Negan kissed you and you kissed him back as you had trained yourself to do. He got up from the bed and left the room, and you took a deep breath once the door closed behind him. It had gone well, you thought, Negan seemed to like how you were behaving lately and he’d gone to get you the chocolate right at that moment…but sure, chocolate wasn’t the same than letting your people out of the cages…But still, it was progress…

Negan came back, that smug smirk on his face as soon as he walked in, waving a bar of chocolate. “Your treat.”

“Thank you, Negan.” You smiled as he walked towards the bed.

“Come here,” he told you, and you shifted closer. He tore the envelope from the bar and broke a piece of chocolate. “Open your mouth.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and did as told. Negan placed the piece of chocolate in your mouth, smiling, and as you savored the sweetness, you closed your eyes and moaned aloud, even if you felt silly.

“Good girl,” Negan purred, and you opened your eyes to find him smirking at you. He broke another piece of chocolate and you opened your mouth as he wanted. This time, though, he kept one of his fingers in your mouth when he placed the chocolate. You knew what he wanted, and so you stopped yourself from bitting him as you wanted, and instead sucked on his finger.

Negan chuckled, pulling his hand back, and you forced yourself to moan again while you savored the chocolate. You hoped that all this show was good for something…although, the chocolate was nice, at least.

Negan moved to sit on the bed too, against the headboard. “Come here,” he said as he waved another piece of chocolate, and you crawled between his legs, opening your mouth so he’d give you the chocolate. You closed your eyes, enjoying it, and Negan chuckled. “You really do love chocolate.”

“Well….you know what they say…” You shrugged. “Chocolate is better than sex.”

Negan smirked at that. “Nah…better than sex with the redneck dog, you mean. Better than with me? No way.” He chuckled, and you almost dropped your façade, barely resisting the urge to punch him. Instead, you snapped the chocolate bar from his hand, and Negan chuckled again, seeming amused at you. “Now I wonder…how’s our dog Daryl in bed, uh?”

“I don’t want to talk about that…” You muttered, bitting off some chocolate, trying your best to behave, even if you didn’t feel like you could keep playing the seductress that day…you just wanted Negan to shut up.

“Come on, doll, don’t get mad…” Negan chuckled, taking back the chocolate bar and bitting a piece too. “I’m just saying…I know I’m better than him.” You barely stopped yourself from scoffing, and you remained silent, trying to hide how upset you were.  “Come on…” Negan broke another piece of chocolate and waved it in front of your face. “Say it, or you won’t get your treat.”

Once again, you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Yes, Negan, you’re the best ever, even better than chocolate.” You knew that Negan could tell you didn’t mean it, but he seemed amused anyway. He smirked, popping the chocolate piece in his mouth instead of yours.

“Good girl,” he purred, giving you that chocolate bar and another unopened. “There you have your treat, don’t eat it all at once,” he chuckled. “Now, put those aside and come here to see that I am better than chocolate indeed.”

*

Operation let’s try to play Negan without getting killed is on. I wonder how it’ll go.

If you enjoyed this, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, thanks.

Also, as always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

New taglist for Daryl, if you want to be tagged let me know and also, please, if you are not interested in being tagged anymore let me know too (I have way more people tagged than notes this gets and it makes me feel a bit down).

@jodiereedus22​​ @coffeebooksandfandom​​  @gruffle1​​ @twdeadlysins​​ @yenne-yen-illustrations​​ @mychemicalimagines​​   @haleypearce​​    @superflannel​​ @sourwolf-sterek32​​ @angelontheinside​​  @firehoopinmama​​ @lonewolf471​​   @hopplessdreamer​​ @daryldixonandfrogs​​  @fanfictionsilove​​   @collecting-stories​​ @princessxpunk​​ @hells-mistress​​ @justyouraveragefangirl1967​​ @carnationworld​​    @smiithys​​ @polkadottedpillowcase​​ @elisdays​​ @mysterious-398​​  @captainbuckyboobear​​   @dazzledamazon​​   @spidergirla5​​ @lilythemadqueen​​ @lightning-butterfly​​ @purplebtsmagic​​ @barra-cudaaa​​   @courtnytrash04​​ @amazingapricot​​      @seizethesam​​ @harpersmariano​​  @eternalslingshot​​  @fuseburner​​ @phoenixblack89​​  @boywivlove​​  @amaroho​​ @woundmetender​​  @classyunknownlover​​ @masterninjacow​​ @tenderlyunlikelyexpert​​ @shadowfoxey​​ @kaitieskidmore1​​ @lilac-day-dreaming​​ @datidixon​​ @sabrinabernal​​  @nj01​​ @rachelxwayne​​  @elamy17​​  @angelofthor @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​ @thanossexual​​ @daryldixonstorm​​​ @sttrawberries​​ @huffledor-able541​​ @lucillethings​​ @browneyes528​​ @soraitmnt​​​  @thereshallbenoother​​​ @chickenparmandstoicvulcans​​​ @leej2468​​​  @heartlessmarvello​​​ @itsmeempar​​​  @redneckstrash​​​ @bxxbxy​​​ @bitchynicole​​​ @pulplorrd​​​  @supernatural79impala​​​  @the-artistic-animal-lover​​​   @selfsun​​​ @thiccblondeliv​​​ @maggie-l-m​​​ @baseballbitch116​​​ @tranquiiit​​​ @sweatywildpanda​​​ @supernatural79impala​​ @theteaset​​​  @amaroho​​​ @my-current-fandom-is​​​ @sapphire1727​​​ @sapphire-angel​​​  @insidetoughcake @whitexwingedxdoves​​​ @nickangel13​​​ @oceans-daughter-3​​​  @tuttifuckinfruttifriday​

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon & reader #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd

[ddaengyoonmin]

Pairing: Single dad / childhood best friend!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: !!ANGST!!, smut.

Word count: 7.1k

Warnings:(issa dark oneee)  Mentions of abuse, abusive parent, underage drinking and drug use, Jungkook is an ass, lots of descriptions of smoke and cigarettes in an unhealthy way. Mentions of vomiting.  Toxic behaviors in general; Rough play; handjob; edging; Sub!Jungkook; Dom!Reader; choking; biting; overstimulation; slight mentions of blood; just all around physical and emotional pain definitely not #goals.

a/n: definitely cried a bit writing this.  This story ended up becoming super important to me and something I think I’ve been holding in for a while.  A lot of this story is based on my own life and personal experiences, which is why the first part is a highschool backstory.  Absolutely nothing sexual happens until they are both adults, the first part of the story was just a necessary cathartic therapy moment for me to get out :_)

(Also I tried to make this a gender neutral insert, but this is my first time doing that so kindly let me know if there's anything I can do to improve on that!)

Song inspiration: Kathleen- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Rango- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Anything-Catfish and the Bottlemen

--------

He was completely insane. It never made you like him any less though.

When you’d first heard Jungkook was back in town you had so many different emotions running through you, you thought you’d faint at the feeling.

------

When you were still in highschool, he had been your closest friend.  You spent practically every day after school with Jungkook, smoking in your car, driving around through cemeteries laughing about something funny one of your teachers had said, or the security guard who’d tried to chase you down the halls for skipping 2nd hour earlier in the day.  There never seemed to be a dull moment when he was around.

 When you’d first met him, insane and reckless were never words that would’ve come into your mind.

He was a grade younger than you and had seemed to fly mostly under your radar through all your highschool years.  It wasn’t until the second half of your Junior year that you'd even noticed he existed.

You’d shown up to the first day of track practice the way you always had, scanning over the new freshman on the team.  You’d mistaken him for a freshman and greeted him as such.  He nervously and shyly corrected you that he was actually a Sophomore just searching around for something new to try out.  

About half way through the practice you noticed a group of your teammates had swarmed around Jungkook and he looked to be almost in tears as he cowered under their words and faces, looking up at them all.

He was a small child, not very muscular and extremely geeky looking.  You found it endearing though, and found the classmates picking on him infuriating.

You stormed across the track over to where they stood demanding to know their problem, they all were also a grade younger than you and seemed to be intimidated by you.  How could they not be with the star of the track team chewing them out like they were being condemned to hell.

After they left, two big saucer eyes stared up at you, tears still slightly pooled up in his lower lid, he wiped them off with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” He sniffled. He explained that everyone in his grade always picked on him like that.  He didn’t really have any friends, and everyone seemed to think of him as the weird kid.

After that day the two of you were inseparable.  

You went to the city fair together on the last day of school that year, and that was the first time it happened.

You were supposed to be at a school sanctioned celebration, you’d told your mom that's where you’d be.

But here you were sitting in your car with Jungkook before going to the fair, the two of you giggling as he messily tried to roll a joint, swearing that his older brother had taught him how.

You felt yourself bleeding guilt for lying to your parents.  But, how could anything that sweet Jungkook convinced you to do be bad?

Stoned out of your mind the two of you ran hand in hand around the fair, giggling and riding your favorite rides too many times.  That was the first time you realized, he was truly your best friend.

That summer had you pulling a 180 on everything you’d ever thought you were capable of.

Before you knew it, you were sneaking out of your house multiple times a week to drive around with Jungkook and smoke, listening to music and feeling free.

———

It was now the middle of summer.  You were sitting in your car while Jungkook was filling up gas for you.  

Two girls and a man approached Jungkook and started chatting.  You found that odd, but then again, Jungkook had a habit of getting into conversations with strangers everywhere you went.

You never really noticed it til then, but at some point, he had really changed from the boy you met.  He was more outgoing, he was dressing better…

A tap on your window surprised you.

“Hey y/n! These guys are throwing a party at their place, let's just park your car here and go! They said just hop in!”

You felt your jaw drop a bit as you opened your mouth to protest.  But he was staring back at you so excited, so hopeful that you’ll join him.  You agreed, against all better judgement and that sick feeling in your stomach that you shouldn’t be getting into a car with strangers.

Jungkook whispered in your ear as the two of you walked to your car. “I told them we were 22” He chuckled.  Your heart dropped a bit, more sick feelings coming on.  

“Okay.” You managed to nod and agree somehow.  Jungkook excitedly opened the door to their backseat, as if he did this kind of thing all the time.

You were both lucky, the strangers were not murderers, though there was no party, just them and some beer and a hookah in a messy apartment living room.

None of it felt right, it didn’t really feel like a fun time.  Jungkook though seemed to think he was at the party of the century.  He chugged the beer they gave him in no time and was up messing with their stereo trying to get on some “PARTY MUSIC” he screamed out.

In no time at all that firecracker of a boy was wasted and trying to dance up on their table.

It wasn’t long before the apartment owners realized their mistake, this child was completely off the rails drunk.  One of them tried to bring him down from the table and he somehow managed to kick their glass hookah entirely across the room.

There was a still silence as you all looked at the shattered glass on the ground.  You had your hand clasped over your mouth looking from the glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes were wide at you, the smile that grew on his face seemed ill fitting for the moment, as the apartment owners were obviously furious.

“Run!” Jungkook screamed out in a laugh, rushing over to you and grabbing you tightly by your wrist and pulling you out the front door.

Then the two of you ran, you just kept running down the street till your lungs gave out and you collapsed on the ground on a grassy patch in front of a gas station.

Jungkook’s chest was heaving but he still managed a loud laugh, his eyes crinkling as he held his stomach, rolling over onto his side.

“Jungkook.  That was insane…” You gasped out.

“That was fun.” he chuckled, seeming to be unphased by it all with a casual smile, rolling back onto his back and staring up at the sky.

And that was the moment you realized how crazy he was.

After that, things like this were common with Jungkook.  You were his protector at school and his partner in mischief and crime.

The two of you ended up both quitting track together, against your parent’s scolding and the coaches yelling about losing one of their star runners.  

You knew you wouldn’t be a star that year though, with all the smoking you’d been doing and you’d skipped out completely on practicing throughout the summer.  It just seemed pointless.  And you wanted more time with Jungkook before you had to leave…

———

You found yourself getting in increasingly more dangerous situations.  He’d have you take him to parties at nearby university dorms, he refused to learn to drive, part of you felt like it was just because he liked you driving him around.  

He always lied about his age, that never sat right with you.

Sometimes you found yourself gripping both hands on a beer bottle so tightly you thought your fingers might snap while he was getting talked to by every person that walked by. People loved him at first glance every time you went out together. But they didn’t know him.  

They didn’t get to see his real chaos, they never learned the lies he told them, they’d never be able to understand him.  Not like you thought you knew him.

You knew things weren’t good at home for Jungkook.  He had an older brother he was close with named Jin, and a young sister named Jill, both very lovely, but his dad was a real piece of work.  In the whole time you’d been friends with Jungkook you’d only been to his house twice, he avoided ever taking you there if he could.

You found out why when one of the times Jungkook had thought it’d be safe to bring you over for a moment, his dad got home from work early.

“What’s this shit.” His dad had grumbled at Jungkook, pointing to the light eyeliner he had around his eyes.  Jungkook had recently started to wear makeup, he did a good job of making it look natural, but today he’d gone a little heavy on the eyeliner.

“Nothing.” Jungkook muttered, turning his back to his dad.

Apparently that was the wrong move, and all you could do was stand there, frozen.

Jungkook and you have never talked about that day.  But it was traumatic for you both.  You held him close that night as he cried in your arms, sitting in the parking lot of your favorite park to smoke in.

His eye now even more black than it had been with just the eyeliner, which was now smudged across his face due to his tears.

You vowed to never let anyone hurt him ever again.  No matter what.

---------

Months later Jungkook was taking pictures of you, for your senior pictures.  Talking about how you’d be gone next year but you’d still stay in touch.  Graduation was hanging over you like a dark cloud.  You didn’t want things to change between you and Jungkook.

As much trouble as you’d gotten in, as much as your grades had dropped this year, as much as your parents gave him judgemental looks any time he was around, you loved him so much.

---------

It was the last month of school.

He was gone.

Somehow his father had managed to get your phone number and you were hearing an entire vocabulary of cuss words.

“I know you’re hiding him from me.  Where the fuck is he?’ the man growled on the other end of the phone.

You wish you knew.

But he just didn’t show up to school that day.

He didn’t text you like he always did to say that he was ready to be picked up.

No voicemail.

Not a word.

And now even his dad was calling you.  The worry that you felt had you not paying attention to one word of your classes all day.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the rest of the week.

Until next monday.  He was just...there.

“What the fuck Jungkook!” You punched him in the shoulder.  He looked like a mess, his hair hadn’t been cut or washed in a while, and he looked like he was wearing the remnants of makeup from a few days ago.

He chuckled “I decided to just hop a train out of town for a while” He shrugged “fuck it.”

“And you couldn’t tell your best friend where you went? Do you realize I thought you were dead?” You snapped at him.

He shrugged again. “It's fine.  It was fun!” He smiled a giant toothy grin.

Your blood was boiling.  How could he not even say sorry? How could he act like this didn’t affect you at all.  It was infuriating.

You didn’t talk to him for a week.

------

You made up with Jungkook, but things never went back to normal.  You were always waiting for him to just up and leave again.  To just abandon you and act like nothing is even the matter…

You’d graduated and it was summer, you thought like last summer you’d be hanging out together most every day.

But, he stopped asking.

When you did hang out with him, he’d continuously mention this new group of friends he’d found in the town he ended up in on his little adventure.  You’d think they were celebrities the way he gushed about them.

There was a girl of course, she was ‘the most beautiful mess he’d ever seen’.  You found yourself holding back a sob at those words, because you knew exactly what he meant.  Because it was the same as what you saw when you looked at him.

He was increasingly spending more time with his new friends than you, and school would be starting for you soon...maybe it was a good thing.  He was still in highschool and you were becoming an adult, he needed friends in his grade.

That didn’t make it hurt less though.

Only about a month into summer, with a simple text Jungkook invited himself over, asking you to order some pizza and said he’d be staying the night.

In your new apartment you’d gotten to yourself after graduation, Jungkook now smoking with you on your couch, the two of you chuckling about the show you were watching.  Nothing seemed wrong at that moment, it all seemed finally back to normal between you two.

And that was the last time you had seen Jungkook for 4 years.

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

You’d checked your phone what seemed like every minute for the first month he was gone.

Even texting his brother Jin many times and getting no reply.

You waited for him to come back with some wild and crazy story of new trouble he’d gotten himself into.  You figured he had to come back, he still had school, and with Jin in college he’d never leave his little sister alone with that monster right?

But as months continued to pass, it was clear he wasn’t coming back.  All of his social media platforms had been deleted or you’d been blocked.

There weren’t enough tears in your body for how hard you cried yourself to sleep each night when you realized he really was gone.  You felt your body heaving against your mattress with each loud sob.  Your head was beginning to throb from the tears and from the stress of knowing you really had lost him.

Not that he was ever yours.

That was something you should’ve realized sooner.

Jungkook would never belong to anyone or any place.

 You chuckled at a memory of skipping class, sitting in your car in the school parking lot, his wild eyed smiling expression when he’d pass you back your cigarette completely smoked to the end.

“How!?” You’d smack his shoulder with a laugh. “It was only half smoked and I handed it to you for a hit!!! How is it gone!”

He’d wink, laugh and lean back in his seat.  “Just trying to die quicker.”

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

You’d graduated from your university this year.  Life had pretty much gone according to plan for you that way, you had to retake one class which really wasn’t bad considering how much you’d fallen off at the end of highschool.

You were finishing up your shift at the chain restaurant you’d been working at the past year.  As you were clearing off dishes sighing over another table stiffing you on a tip, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Quickly you took the dishes into the kitchen to the dishwasher and went to the bathroom to check your phone.

It was a text from a former classmate you’d hung out with a few times.  You and Jungkook would smoke with him occasionally, though Jungkook seemed closer to him than you.  It didn’t surprise you, Jungkook made friends so easily when they weren’t in his own grade.  

Jungkook…

What was surprising was that it’d actually been a bit since you’d thought about Jungkook in a way that made your heart ache this way.  It’d been years, he was nothing more than a story you’d tell to new friends.  That wild child that you hung around with in highschool, the one who got you into so much trouble.  People’s eyes would widen at some of the stories you’d told (If only they knew the ones you didn’t dare repeat)

“You could’ve died!” They’d say.  

Or “He seems like he was just a toxic friend.”

Some even would ask you if you think maybe he could’ve been a sociopath.

You'd laugh and say it was probably true.  As much as you had hung out with Jungkook, you never quite felt like that love you held for him as your friend was ever returned.

The older you got and the more you looked back on it, Jungkook never did anything but use you.  

You drove him everywhere, you bought him dinners, you bought the cigarettes and weed, you defended him from his classmates( even though you’d seen him stab a man with a pen at a party once, over simply interrupting him.)

And what did Jungkook give to you?

Chaos.  Trouble.  Pain.  Hurt…

You closed your eyes and gulped.  You want him out of your head.  But when you open your eyes and stare back down to the text on your phone, that wish is impossible.

‘Jungkook is back’ It read.

A chill spread across your entire body and your phone clattered to the floor.  You didn’t even think about the cracked screen you’d likely caused.  Your mind was stuck on one word, one name.

Jungkook.

Jungkook…

You actually felt sick, luckily you were already in the bathroom, rushing into one of the stalls you emptied your stomach, tears forming in your eyes you collapsed with your back to the cold painted cement of the bathroom wall.

He's back.

What does that even mean?

While Jungkook had been a geeky little kid in his classmates eyes for most of his life, his reputation had started to get around.  When he went missing he was the talk of the town.  Everyone seemed to have their own theory.

“I heard he ran off with a meth dealer.” … “No, I heard he’s in florida fighting alligators.” …. “That's bullshit he's obviously finally gotten himself in juvi!” they’d all speculated.

The worst part of hearing all of that, was that you could only speculate too.

He’s back…

A second text came in.  You gulped and looked down to see a link to an instagram page kookymonster69.  Of course it was that, you chuckled.

You clicked the link and it sent you over to his page.  There were only three pictures posted, he really had just come back...you’d thought maybe he’d just blocked you so somehow this was a relief.

The first photo was a selfie, and WOW.  He did not look like the small lanky boy that you had been friends with.

He was wearing a loose fitting tank top that showed off his massive biceps and the tattoos that covered his arms and hands.  His hair was still jet black but he seemed to have learned how to perfectly style it, and his eyeliner was more on point than it's ever been.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath. Your heart beat fast right before it sank at the second picture.

It was him with a child that looked to be around 3 years old, the caption reading ‘My lil mini me’.

Oh…

Your mind flashed back to the girl he’d always talked about, the time he’d been spending with his new friends instead of you.

Of course.

Of course that's where he went.

But why couldn’t he tell you?  Why would he think you wouldn’t want to be involved in his kids life?

You cursed again under your breath and without thinking you pressed the follow button.

“I-” You gasped.  You really hadn’t meant to do that.  But, maybe it's good he knows that you know he's back…

--------

Two days later you got a notification.  Kookymonster69 is following you on instagram.

Within minutes a dm was popping up on your screen.

“Long time no talk huh?” it read.

You wanted to throw your phone against the wall.  Though that would be the second act of unwarranted phone violence because of this little shit. So you held back.  Theres only so much in your life he’s allowed to fuck up.

How could he think that was what you wanted to hear after all this time.  No different than when he’d hopped a train out of town and came back like nothing was out of the ordinary.

No apology.  No “You must’ve been so worried”

You started to type out a message telling him off.  Asking him what the fuck was wrong with him, just dissapearing and coming back into your life like this.

You maxed out the word count on your text and re read it back over.  Sighing, you deleted every word and sent a simple.  

“Yeah...it really has been a while.  How are you?”

Damnit.  You groaned and tossed yourself onto your side on your couch.  

He replied almost instantly.  

“Better lately...I have a son.”

“I saw, he looks a lot like you.  I always knew if you had a kid they’d look just like you lol called it” you felt a smile grow on your face, despite every bone in your body reminding you of who he was, and what he’s done...here you were letting your cheeks catch fire once again at his words.

“He does. lol he’s so much smarter than me though already.”

“I don’t doubt that ;) “

It was about ten minutes and he hadn’t replied.  You knew ten minutes wasn’t a long time, nothing compared to four years.  Yet somehow those ten minutes were the longest moments you’d ever experienced.

“I wanna see you again.” the words read on your phone.  You felt your stomach tie itself up into a tight knot.  

Bad idea.  Bad idea.  You should have never even replied.

Why were you digging up the past?

You quickly turned your phone over and groaned.

Letting him back in would likely only bring you more pain.  Why the hell were you actually considering it.

This time it was your turn to wait a while before replying.  You were weighing pro’s and con’s lists in your brain and though the con’s list kept growing, the Pro list’s first and only item seemed to top it all.  ‘Its Jungkook.’

---------

So here you were.  Waiting in your car outside of the address he’d texted you to pick him up at.  You were parked outside of a cheap looking apartment building only about five minutes from where you lived.  You wondered how long he’d been here...this close to you without you knowing.  

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him walk out the front door.   He was wearing an oversized grey baggy t-shirt and tight black skinny jeans ripped at the knee where you could see the start of a tattoo peeking out.  He had on silver chains and his hands were covered in rings, he looked like some kind of goth model.

You rolled the window down and called over to him.

“Not sure if you remember my car.” You spoke lightheartedly trying to offset the nervous feeling, and another feeling you were still trying to sort out.

He belly laughed and smoothly opened your passenger door and hopped in.

“How could I forget!” his dark eyes were wide and excited as always, his charming smile you’d once been so used to now making your brain practically glitch out. “I can’t believe you still have it.”

You shyly shook your head.  “Broke college student” You chuckled. “So what are we doing? You said you just wanted to chill…”

Jungkook smiled and relaxed back into your seat, like he’d done a million times, so naturally.  Though he didn’t look like the same small boy you once knew.

“Yeah, like old times.” He winked and pulled out a small baggie of weed.

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“C’mon don’t tell me you quit.” He teased.

“Of course I didn’t.” You chuckled.

“Good y/n.” He smiled cutely, booping your nose with one finger, and you felt your heart stop.

Your face must’ve fallen or had some sort of expression to let him know he’d affected you, because he immediately punched your shoulder as if to snap you out of your thought.

“Give me a cigarette then and let's go.” He demanded joyfully, banging on the dash of your car and giving you an “onward” motion with his arm for you to start driving.

You drove around for about an hour, smoking cigarettes and passing a joint back and forth.

He didn’t talk much about himself or what he’d been up to and he also didn’t ask much about you either.  When you’d bring up questions you got short replies that didn’t seem very satisfying.

“So are you still with your kids mom?” You asked him as he was passing you an almost fully smoked joint.

“Hell no!” he coughed out smoke with his words.  “Evil.” he muttered and shook his head.

“Evil?”

“Yup.” he nodded, grabbing another cigarette from your pack without asking.  Just as he always used to.  What's yours was always his back then, but right now his casual way of falling back into old routines was hurting, you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You pulled into the parking lot of you and Jungkook’s favorite park you’d hangout at.  You pressed the brakes suddenly and aggressively bringing the car to a half.

“Woaah.” Jungkook giggled as he let out a tiny puff of smoke.

“You left.” You felt yourself about to explode.  Trying to hold it in was becoming impossible.

“You just LEFT.” You yelled the last word, startling him and making him cower back against the window.

“Y/n…” His eyes widened as he gave you his best puppy dog face, this was the first time you’d probably ever really yelled at him.  He’d been scolded plenty of times, but you were always soft on your Jungkook.  He didn’t deserve that though, you might not have been dating, but he’d broken your heart and you deserved an explanation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?  How could you just leave me without a word?” You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

It was silent in your car for a while.

Jungkook brought the last hit of his cigarette to his mouth shakily.

“No.” He shook his head, doing something that always gave you the chills. The way he could turn his cutesy eyes into stone cold daggers in an instant used to make your heart drop into your stomach.  Though right now you were a bit too worked up to feel anything but anger at him.

“No?”

“Yeah.  No.  I don’t need to tell you shit.” He shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Right.” You huffed, sinking into your seat.  “Why would you.  Why would you tell your best friend what's going on in your life right?” you snapped and realized the words building inside had reached your tongue faster than your brain could tell you to stop.

“Though I guess maybe we never really were best friends? Maybe I just thought that because you hung around me so much.  But you never actually gave a shit about me did you?”

Jungkook’s eyes were widening and he was cowering further away from you.

“I would’ve done anything for you Jungkook, you know that? Died for you, killed for you.  Do you realize how many times I took the fall and got in trouble for things you did? And you just…let me.  You always just let me get hurt for you, let me ruin myself for you. And you never cared. And then you just...left.”

Your last words came out as a choked up whisper.

Jungkook was staring at the cigarette in his hand that had gone out, twirling it between his tattoo’d fingers and pursing his lips together tightly.

“Why’d you keep hanging around me then if you hated it so much.” He grumbled, seeming genuinely hurt by your words.

You sighed.  Hating that now you felt the need to comfort *him*. You shook your head.  No. He doesnt get to get away with that.

“I guess I don’t know.” You muttered glaring at him.

His eyes met yours for a moment but on seeing your anger they quickly flitted away.

“You seemed helpless.” You answered after a moment. “That's why.  I thought you needed me.  I thought I was helping you by being there for you.  I didn’t realize you were destroying me.”

At that Jungkook’s gaze was serious and direct at you.

“Destroying you?”

“Nevermind.  This was just a mistake.” You murmured starting to put your car into reverse to leave.  A large tattoo’d hand pressed onto yours stopping you.

“Hey.” He spoke seriously.

You stopped and looked over at him, already visibly exhausted from this conversation.

“Just…” He grabbed another cigarette from your pack and lit it, sucking in a large hit.  “I missed you, trust me.” he grumbled.

“Oh wow, well at least you missed me the four years you chose to not talk to me.” You hissed out slightly getting in his face, making him flinch back.

“I’m not gonna say sorry.” He whispered, his doe eyes staring at you intensely, his eyes flicking back and forth between your eyes and what seemed to be your lips.

Of course he’s not.  Of course he does know that's what you want.  You had an urge to grab his face in your hands and just shake some sense into him and scream ‘Why can’t you just have some normal human emotions you complete sociopath.’

Instead your body’s next choice of action was one that neither of you were expecting.

As if your lips were magnets, yours fell onto his quickly and perfectly, snapping the two of you in place together.  

You pulled back with a gasp, holding your lower lip between your thumb and index finger, feeling mortified at yourself.

Jungkook on the other hand had a smirk slowly growing on his face, his eyes mischievous, likely knowing this was his “in” back to your good side.  

The fact that you knew that's probably what he was thinking should’ve been enough to have you stop right there.  But the way his eyes were now scanning you up and down in admiration was too intoxicating, too addicting, you’d missed him too much.

“Do your seats still fold all the way down.” He pointed to your backseat with a chuckle.

You smacked his shoulder. “And why would that matter to you.” You teased, almost completely forgetting how angry you’d just been with him.  Damnit, how did he do that.

He shrugged with a knowing laugh, his eyes crinkling up cutely, bringing his still lit cigarette to his lips.  

“You wanna get even?” He glanced at the back seat again.

“Get even?”

“Yeah.” He winked “You seem like you’ve got a lot of pent up steam at me there.  I'm just suggesting some sanctioned punishment-” the corners of his lips curled up mischievously at the word. ”-so maybe you’ll feel a bit less upset at me.”

Bad idea.  Bad idea.  Those words were playing on a loop in your brain.

Trying to remind you of every bit of hurt and pain he’d caused you, and how if you slept with him, you knew that pain would only hurt worse the next time.

Jungkook was already getting out of the car and putting the seats of your station wagon down flat into a makeshift bed.

You had your fingers clenched tightly around your steering wheel, knuckles turning white.  This is Jungkook, not just a one night stand, not a new fling.  This is *Jungkook*.  You knew there was a higher chance than not that you’d be filled with regret after this.

But there he was now laying out in the back seat of your car, staring at you with a cute and enticing look.  “y/n.” He spoke sweetly.  “You can come punish me now” He winked.

You couldn’t deny to yourself how much you wanted him.

You took one more deep breath in and without taking another thought to it you rushed into the back seat with him.

He was laying on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“Took you long enough.” he teased.

Before he could say anything else you were on top of him, pushing him onto his back and pressing him to the seat with one hand and putting another one over his mouth.

“You’re definitely going to have to shut up.” You growled.  

His eyes lit up at the fire you’d shown him.  He’d never seen you like this before, his sweet y/n that always looked after him, looked out for him, picked him up every time he needed it.

He knew he fucked up.  But life itself was fucked up, nothing in life is fair and no one gets what they truly deserve.  Jungkook especially.  So why would he owe anyone an apology?

This was the best he could give to you.

He nodded, agreeing to be quiet for you.

You slowly let your hand fall from his mouth and replaced it with your lips, melting into him, you were kissing him like you’d been starved for it.  Your fingers started to tangle in his hair, messing it up and tugging slightly.  

Jungkook's hand reached around your waist, pulling you against him, moving down to your hips and trying to get you to grind against him.

You quickly reached down and grabbed his wrist, pinning it above his head and shaking your head slightly as you gave him a few more pecks.

“Don’t get greedy.  You can’t be patient after all this time?” You scolded.

He stuck out his lower lip in a pout, taking in the sight of you straddling him, looking down at him with a mix of emotions still flowing through you.  

You went back to kissing him, pinning his other hand above his head and after a bit, rewarding him by pressing your core down onto his and giving him the friction he’d wanted.

He let out a soft and needy whimper as you did.

You felt butterflies filling your stomach at his noise.  It was so gentle and sweet, and to know that you were the one making Jungkook feel this way was a sense of pride you’d never felt before.

You stacked his wrists one on top of the other and held them in one hand, your other hand now slipping between where your bodies met and palming him over his jeans.

He hissed out a sharp breath and a small “fuck” fell from his lips involuntarily.

“Does that feel good baby?” You teased him pulling back from your kisses and studying his face, knowing the answer was obvious.

He bit down on his lower lip and his eyes were clenched tightly as he nodded.

Your fingers fumbled slightly but didn’t take you too long to undo his jeans and slip your hand inside, now running your hand slowly along his length over his boxers.  His hips lifted slightly off of the seat, pressing up against your hand desperately wanting more.

At that you gave him a slight squeeze, causing him to yelp out.  His eyes were wide staring up at you.

“I said don’t get greedy.  Remember, this is supposed to be for me.” You chuckled at his disappointed face. “You’ve always been so fucking selfish and greedy.” You gently kissed his lips, before roughly taking his lower one between your teeth and biting harshly.

“Fuck.” he hissed, a small drop of blood now forming where you’d nipped at him, but he only seemed more hungry for you now.

You tugged on the hem of his pants and boxers. “Off now.” You demanded.

He wasted no time after you released his wrists, he tugged down his clothes, pulling up his shirt slightly and letting his length fall against his toned lower abs.

He was so beautiful, smiling up at you with a playful look.  It was an absolute joke for you to think you were actually in charge here.  You were wrapped around his finger and you always had been.

He looked absolutely mouthwatering.  But you didn’t want to let it get to his head.  This was supposed to be payback.

You went back to kissing him, that way you didn’t have to look at him, that way you didn’t risk saying the words that you shouldn’t...

With a free hand you took his length into your hand, letting the weight of him sit in your palm for a moment before slowly tickling your fingers up and down.  He twitched under your touch and his kisses faltered as he let out a small gasp.

“y/n no more teasing.” He moaned out.

“I thought I said shut up.” Your hand was back over his mouth, but you decided to indulge him for a moment, pumping your hand up and down his length a few times.  You could feel his moans vibrate against the palm of your hand still clamped down on his lips.

You let him go and slowly moved yourself down so that his cock was positioned right in front of your face.  Letting your tongue lay flat against the base with pressure you licked a long stripe up his cock.  When you got to the tip you flicked your tongue a few times right under his head.  His hips reflexively moved up at that, begging you to take him fully in your mouth.

Instead you “tsk’d” at him a few times, loosely holding his cock in your hand and not moving.

“It's no fun just sitting there waiting is it?” You asked. “How do you think I felt waiting for you for years.” You lightly slapped the tip of his cock with your hand not holding it.

“AH!” He yelled out “Hey!” he strained his neck to be able to give you a shocked expression.

“Too far?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head, laying back down.  “No.  No it's not that I don’t like it.” He chuckled. “Just...it's you.  I never thought you’d be like this in bed.”

You were suddenly moving up to face him, your hand grabbing the sides of his neck tightly. “You don’t know me anymore.” You growled.  “You made sure of that by cutting me out of your life for four fucking years.” your grip on his neck tightened slightly before you released him.  

He gasped in a deep breath when you pulled away, looking up at you in awe.  

You moved your hand back between his legs now pumping quickly, twisting over his head when you’d get to it.  You ate up every moan that you pulled from his lips, they were yours, you’d caused every single one and they were yours to keep forever.

Right before it looked like he was going to cum, you pulled your hand away, leaving his cock untouched and throbbing.

“No..” He whimpered, “Please please.” His needy whines were so cute.

“But why should you get to cum?” You teased him.

He pouted dramatically. “Y/n…” He spoke sweetly “Cuz you love me. Make me cum because you love me.” He smiled a wide and precious smile.

Fuck.

Your mouth hung open at his words.  Of course he knew you loved him.

All the easier to use you.

Because that made it all the harder for you to say no to him.

Letting your forehead rest against his, you brought your hand back to his length, letting your fingers drag against his soft skin as you gripped him.  

You could see a small smirk on his face, as his breathing became even more unsteady, his moans catching in his throat as he panted heavily.

“Oh my god that feels so fucking good.” He groaned out. “Fuck.” His hands were gripping the back of the front seat that his head was pressed up against, his muscles flexing as he tightened his grip unable to contain how good you were making him feel.  

His abs were clenched and his hips were lifting off of the seat for you as he desperately fucked himself into your hand.

“I-I’m cumming.” He gasped out, his eyes met yours as he came, his mouth falling completely open and noises resembling your name were being muttered as his hips jerked and his cock twitched in your hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

You didn’t stop moving your hand around him, waiting for him to get so sensitive that he had to pull your arm away, both of you laughing.

You rolled over next to him, turning your head to face his.  

He was facing the top of the car, eyes closed and he had a big smile on his face, seeming very satisfied with himself.

“Even?” He finally opened his eyes, turning to you with a bright grin.

You chuckled.

It probably would be asking too much to expect Jungkook to see the flaw in his logic here.  Once again, he’d gotten you to give him everything, for nothing in return, and he wanted to call that his apology.

You shook your head at him.

“No.  But I do feel a little better.”

He nodded, seeming to somehow take that as a positive.

“You’re good at that.” He sat up, taking his shirt off and using it to wipe off his stomach.

“Thanks…” You muttered.  Here it was, the regret setting in.  The feelings of ‘what the fuck did I just do’.  Even worse was the feeling of knowing now that you had, all he had to do was say the word, and you’d be right back there again.

You exited the backseat of the car quickly, rushing to grab a cigarette from your glove compartment, your fingers shaky as you brought the lighter up to the tip.  Flicking it many times but not getting a flame.

“Fuck!” You yelled, chucking the lighter as far as you could, managing to make it over a fence and into the park.  

Jungkook had just gotten out of the back seat in time to witness your little display.  He didn’t say anything, simply grabbing another lighter from the front seat along with a cigarette for himself and walking it over to you.

You let him light your cigarette and the two of you stood for a minute in silence.

“Does this mean you’re actually back…” You whispered softly, almost not wanting to even ask, not wanting to know if it wasn’t the answer you were hoping to hear.

Maybe Jungkook knew that.  Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything at all.

He never told you he loved you, he didn’t even try and make you feel loved.

Maybe it was good that way, it might make it a bit easier when he leaves again.

Maybe it was better that way, it was kinder than being lied to.

#Jungkook smut #Jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #Jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x gender neutral reader #bts x you #jungkook reader insert #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts imagines #bts x gender neutral reader

[robininthelabyrinth]

I’ve never seen a de aged NHS or NMJ fic, and I’d really like too see how you write one (especially if it’s one where young NHS is transported too the present, and old NHS is transported to the past, before his brother dies OR after!)

“Sometimes,” Wei Wuxian said, when it’s late at night and they’re really drunk and he’s been whining up a storm over nonsense to the point that even Nie Huaisang, master of whining, asked him why, “sometimes it’s just - when I’m feeling really spoiled, I go back to being, y’know, like a little kid. Five, or three.”

Jiang Cheng just huffed, clearly already used to the idea, clearly acting like Wei Wuxian’s just stating the obvious, but Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide. 

“You do?” he asked, jaw dropping open into what he knew was an unseemly sort of gaping motion, like a fish, but in his defense – “I’ve never met anyone else who does that!”

Wei Wuxian squinted at him. “‘Else’? You mean you do it too?”

“Yeah! Though I don’t go back that far – just to age seven or so.”

He was rounding up a little, but mostly seven didn’t sound as good.

“Seven’s better than three,” Jiang Cheng opined. He was sprawled out on his stomach, looking like he was contemplating taking an extra helping from their snack pile. He probably didn’t go little at all, the bastard. “You can feed yourself when you’re seven. This asshole here –” He meant Wei Wuxian. “– needs spoon-feeding.”

Wei Wuxian reached over and hit up upside the head, but didn’t deny it.

Nie Huaisang giggled. “Yeah, eating is fine,” he said. “I mostly just need a lot of hugs and stuff, to help me calm down and feel better. My da-ge gives the best hugs.”

“I think I’d be too scared to try it,” Wei Wuxian said, though he looked wistful. Even a little jealous.

He should be. Da-ge’s hugs were the best hugs.

“I know I’d be too scared,” Jiang Cheng interjected. “Even at the age I currently am.”

“Well, he’s not your da-ge, is he?” Nie Huaisang said haughtily.

“I can’t even imagine him giving hugs,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling over onto his back.  “He’s just – you know?”

“Tall? Strong? Terrifying?” Wei Wuxian suggested, then sighed. Wistful again. “I can imagine it, no problem. He must give great hugs. He’s got arms for days; it must feel so safe and secure.”

“I’ll give you the arms, I guess,” Jiang Cheng agreed, though he sounded doubtful. “I mean, he could probably pick you up.”

“Oh, definitely,” Nie Huaisang said. “Being picked up is key to a truly fantastic hug.”

Nods all around, even from Jiang Cheng.

“This is really great,” he added enthusiastically. “I didn’t think that it happened to anyone else; I thought it was just me! Da-ge’s always really strict about me not letting anyone else know…and it’s not like it’s all the time, you know? Just sometimes. When it’s safe.”

When he was feeling sick-to-his-stomach stressed, followed by a moment of sheer intense relief – and when his brother was around, of course. He couldn’t feel safe if his brother wasn’t around.

“Just sometimes,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Just like I mostly do it when my shijie is there, she’s really comforting to. I don’t know why you’d have to keep it a secret, though. It’s not really that embarrassing.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Says you.”

“Da-ge’s always worried someone will try to use it against me,” Nie Huaisang confessed.

“Well, we won’t,” Jiang Cheng promised him, and Wei Wuxian nodded along as well, and really, Nie Huaisang could just start crying with how nice it felt to have people who understood.

“Maybe I’ll come find you guys next time, if you’re ever in Qinghe when it happens,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I can talk to da-ge; he can give you guys hugs, too.”

“You know who I really want hugs from?” Wei Wuxian said, a mischievous light in his eyes. “Lan Zhan! I bet he –”

“Don’t say his name! He’ll appear!”

“No, he won’t, he – oh! Uh! Hi! Lan Zhan, we were – uh…”

Lan Wangji glared at them.

Nie Huaisang tried to hide behind something, misjudged, and fell over straight onto his face.

Ouch.

“– not allowed in the Cloud Recesses!”

Da-ge’s going to kill me, he thought miserably, and stopped thinking about any of it.

He didn’t think much more about that conversation at all, in fact, not through their entire adventure with Wen Qing and the scary goddess statute, not with Xue Yang and the massacre and the battle there, not up until he made it home and they had a big banquet and everything was really great and he was home and calm and everything was fine –

Yeah, he probably should’ve been able to call what happened next.

He crawled into his brother’s bed.

“Hmm? Oh, Huaisang,” his brother said, waking up with a start and calming at the sight of him, and then he sighed. “I thought you’d started getting over this.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, even though he’d started wondering himself. It’d been a while. “Gimme a hug.”

His brother pulled him close – and truly, no one in the world gave hugs like his da-ge did. “Don’t go running around too much in the morning,” he said, already falling back asleep. “We have guests.”

Naturally, the next morning, Nie Huaisang woke up first, full of energy and pep – he was seven, after all (nearly), and they were far more excitable than either seventeen-year-olds or twenty-five-year-olds – and that’s about when he remembered that for once he didn’t have to worry about hiding away from their guests because his guests were like him. They got little, too.

“What the fuck,” Wei Wuxian shouted when Nie Huaisang jumped on his bed. “Who the fuck?!”

Nie Huaisang laughed at him. “It’s me, Wei-xiong!” he said happily, waving his arms around. His sleeves were always too long when he went little – his brother insisted that he wear something loose enough that he wouldn’t hurt himself if suddenly went big again – and it was a little funny to see Wei Wuxian from this angle; it made him all big and gangly. “I know your shijie’s not here and all, but it’s very nice; do you want to go little? If you’re five, da-ge will definitely give you a hug!”

Wei Wuxian stared at him. “Nie…Huaisang?”

His voice was wrong – all weird and strangled – and Nie Huaisang started to have that awful itchy feeling that he’d done something wrong. 

He knew it was possible, he often did the wrong thing, and he was even more liable to make mistakes when he’d regressed back to being seven than he normally did. His brother said that it wasn’t his fault, since after all having the same memories as his grown-up self didn’t actually mean that he could process all of them the same way – his brain was seven again, after all, and sometimes he couldn’t quite parse the big feelings and complex thoughts that grown-up him had - but he still felt bad about it when it happened.

It felt like he’d made a mistake now.

But he’d been so sure that his older self had talked it over with Wei Wuxian, and that Wei Wuxian had said he was like him. So why was he acting so surprised all of a sudden?

Nie Huaisang started fidgeting with his sleeves the way he did when he was anxious, his breath starting to come fast. “Wei-xiong,” he said, biting his lip. “You’re little sometimes, like me, right? You said…didn’t you say?”

“I –” Wei Wuxian started to say, then stopped and wet his lips. “Nie-xiong…er...Nie-didi...”

The door open and Nie Huaisang’s brother strode in, his face black with rage. Nie Huaisang, distressed, immediately scrambled off the bed to throw himself at him, to clutch at him and press his face into his robes as if it would hide his shame and embarrassment.

He really hadn’t meant to make such an awful mistake. He really hadn’t, honest!

“Wei-gongzi,” his brother said, voice stiff.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Wei Wuxian blurted out. His eyes were still fixed on Nie Huaisang. “I won’t, I promise – it’s not his fault. Really. When we were at the Cloud Recesses, I told him that sometimes I like to be a kid, with my shijie, and he thought – he must have thought –”

“He assumed you were not referring to merely playacting,” Nie Mingjue said. His voice was heavy, but a little less imminently violent; it was a good thing that Wei Wuxian had started by saying he wouldn’t tell.

“He’s a child,” Wei Wuxian said. His voice was awed. “He’s – he’s actually a child again. He’s small and – and cute – his cheeks are so chubby –”

Nie Huaisang could feel his brother starting to soften a little – he’d always liked it when people complimented Nie Huaisang – and he decided to press his luck, tugging on his brother’s robes and standing up high on his tip-toes in a silent plea that his brother acceded to, reaching down and picking him up in his arms. The best place in the world to be.

“I told Wei-xiong that your hugs are the best, da-ge,” he whispered in his brother’s ear, his own arms looped around his brother’s neck. “’cause they are.”

His brother sighed a little.

“He’s seven, right?” Wei Wuxian said. “He said – age seven. Is there a reason it’s seven?”

Nie Huaisang buried his face into his brother’s neck.

“When our father died,” his brother said.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said, and his voice was suddenly awkward. “I’m – sorry. But…how?  He’s obviously been both physically and mentally transformed, although his memories still seem intact…”

“The details aren’t important,” Nie Huaisang’s brother said firmly. “What’s important is that you understand that no one can know.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “I can’t even imagine – if the Wen sect found out –”

“They can never know.”

“Never. I promise.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang’s brother said with satisfaction. Then, a moment later, “Is there something you want to say?”

Nie Huaisang looked up to see Wei Wuxian biting his lower lip. “No,” he said. “It’s – no, it’s nothing.”

“Just say it.” Nie Huaisang’s brother had never had much time for nonsense. “You’ve seen our secrets; you can trust me that whatever you say, I won’t judge.”

Wei Wuxian still hesitated for a moment longer, but another glare from his brother got him to finally blurt out, “Could I have a hug?”

A long moment of silence, that eventually Nie Huaisang broke with a giggle. “See, da-ge,” he said. “I told you your hugs are the best!”

“Never mind,” Wei Wuxian said, his face bright red. “It’s stupid, I don’t –”

Nie Huaisang’s brother sighed, a sharp exhale, and went over to the bed, still balancing Nie Huaisang on his hip. He sat down and wrapped his other arm around Wei Wuxian, pulling him in tight. “And what do you like to be called?”

“…A-Xian,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, pressing his cheek against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “Call me A-Xian.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

[reinersbb]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔] Chapter Three- Spin The Bottle

Chapter Three of Forget

This chapter contains 18+ material [smut]

Familiar intense light brown eyes bored into you, taking in your appearance, "we seriously need to stop running into each other like this, coffee girl."

The same man from yesterday stood before you, holding onto you, only now he looked different, polished even. A stark contrast between now and the day previous. His ash-brown hair was effortlessly tamed, almost like the locks of hair had been combed through by his fingers, but his bangs still spilled over his forehead. And in replacement of the heather grey tracksuit, he was clad in a black button-up shirt with the top few-or-so buttons undone, white bottoms that were missing a belt, and black shoes. Everything combined perfectly to create a monochromatic outfit.

Any other time you would've taken into account how favorable the man was, but now definitely was not one of those times.

Maybe this was some sick joke, no, maybe this callous world wanted to torment you and make you suffer for some unknown reason. Wasn't being broken up with enough suffering as is?

'No, because this world is just that cruel.'

No words could describe the immense embarrassment you currently felt as your skin began to prickle with a wave of heat that began to arise within your entire body. Both of his hands casually released from your waist when he pulled away from you by taking a step away, but still lingering in your personal bubble. The scent of musky sheer cashmere was prominent as your bodies stood parallel with one another.

You stilled momentarily, backtracking his greeting.

'Coffee girl.'

Out of bitterness, you rolled your eyes out of annoyance from the nickname he'd pinned to you, "coffee girl? Seriously?"

"Well," he started with a head tilt, and continued by crossing his arms around his chest, "to be fair, you left without saying your name, coffee girl."

"I'll have you know it was a pumpkin spice latte if we're speaking technicalities," you said matter-of-factly as if it would make any difference.

A cheeky smirk began to pull at his lips as his shoulders lowered, dipping down slightly to lean into you, "okay, latte girl, what's your name then?"

You shielded your annoyance by pressing the mouth of your wine cooler against your lips, taking a swift sip of the cold mixed berry flavored liquid. At this point, you were fuming at the fact he'd hardly said anything but still managed to press all of your buttons by one single comment.

He continued to stand there, awaiting an answer from you. Preferably your name.

"Okay," you began to speak, causing his body to perk up, "my name is (Y/N)."

He stood up straight to bask in the new information, which only made you yet again realize how tall the man really was. You shifted uncomfortably in your strappy heels, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

"(Y/N)," your name rolled off of his tongue delicately, and it seemed there was a hint of contemplation on his face, "it's nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

"Likewise, uh..." you paused for a beat, scanning his face with uncertainty since you didn't know his name, "what's your name?"

"My name-"

Just as he opened his mouth to relay his answer, he was cut off by a man who'd just paraded into the kitchen.

"Jean!"

The man turned his head, forwarding his attention to the man you hadn't seen before until now.

Jean?

You stared at him as he wasn't paying any attention to you. Quickly, you scanned him up and down once or twice, noticing now that he was wearing black stud earrings that were almost hidden by his hair.

"What is it?" There was an obvious switch in his tone of voice, now he sounded annoyed.

"We're all waiting for you downstairs," the man who you suspected was his friend pointed towards the exit of the kitchen.

"I'm coming, give me a second to grab a beer," he grumbled under his breath.

Jean turned to look away from his friend, his light brown orbs catching onto yours for a split second as he bent down to a cooler and began digging around in the ice.

"Who's your friend?" The man with brunette hair thrown together into a messy bun asked.

He lifted a curious brow, his green eyes were glazed over and glossy as he stared at you with slight interest. Maybe you liked the attention, especially since now you were single. In the back of your mind, you remembered how Historia and Ymir were stressing to have fun and let loose tonight, did that entail hooking up with some stranger that appeared to be some type of fuckboy?

You surely wouldn't hold yourself against it.

"Don't give this drunk bastard any of your attention, (Y/N)," Jean exhaled, beer bottle in hand.

In response his friend flipped him off, "fuck you, Jean, I'm not even that drunk."

"Whatever, Eren, you can go ahead and head down to the basement, I'll just be one more second here," Jean said, motioning to you slightly with his beer bottle.

With that, Eren shoved his hands into his sweat pockets and trudged out of the kitchen, checking out another girl's ass as he exited the kitchen.

Jean turned to look at you, his gaze dropping to your lips and back up to your eyes to hold eye contact, "do you want to come with us downstairs?"

Slight excitement filled your chest at the mention of joining them downstairs. But immediately after you drowned in a puddle of disappointment, remembering that you were waiting around for either one of your friends to show up. Preferably both.

"I'm waiting for my friends right now, sorry," you apologized, but the temptation didn't cease to exist.

"Ah, maybe we'll bump into each other again some other time," he flicked a shred of ice off of the bottle of beer, "see you around."

You stared at the exit longingly after Jean left the area. Maybe you should've gone with him, but you knew it would've been wrong to leave without letting either of your friends know of your whereabouts.

A perfectly good party, and here you were waiting around in the kitchen, appearing to be some type of outcast. You felt inclined to venture off from the kitchen and search for your friends yourself but decided to stay in the place where Historia saw you last.

With what felt like a few minutes later, and you were already on your second wine cooler, a familiar face finally greeted you. And you felt like you could cry out of joy.

"Historia! Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you dropped the now empty bottle of your second wine cooler into the garbage bin. "Did you ever find Ymir?" You couldn't help but notice that the blonde was alone.

"Yes! Funny story, she's downstairs with a few of our mutuals, let's go," Historia tugged on your arm eagerly. "I think you'll like them."

Your chest sank. Downstairs? How this all felt too convenient for you.

*********

With each step you took down the stairs you carefully watched your footing, making sure you didn't misstep since you were wearing heels. Because a trip to the ER would be such a mood killer.

The edge of your fingers ran along with the wooden frame of a pool table that you passed as both of you adventured to a separated area with the most commotion. There were barely any people on the lower floor as if it'd been off-limits and reserved for select individuals. This was a thought that came to mind as you followed behind Historia into the room where all of the chatter was being generated.

Sitting on the collection of l-shaped sofas, chatting amongst one another were a handful of people. No less than ten people give or take.

The air was smoky from a joint that'd been passed around, and steadily thumping in the background was the sound of a familiar song blasting away from upstairs. Out of all of the faces, you spotted Ymir's first.

"Historia, you retrieved (Y/N)! Get over here, we're about to start the game," Ymir waved both of you over.

"What game?" You asked, standing just outside the sectionals, avoiding all eye contact from everyone sitting in the dysfunctional circle.

"Spin the bottle," a guy with short silver hair interrupted, a bottle of fireball sloshing in his hand, "you do know how to play, right?"

"Yeah of course I do..." your eyes darted towards Ymir and Historia, and before you could respond, the man with silver hair continued speaking, grabbing your wrist in response.

"Bet! Sit with me," he sat down next to a girl with brunette hair and you sat between him and Historia. "What'd you say your name was again?"

"Connie, maybe if you weren't tipsy you'd be able to remember that their name is (Y/N)," the Brunette sitting beside him snorted a remark.

Connie whipped his head over his left shoulder towards the brunette, "mind your own business, Sasha."

Your eyes bounced around at the odd-shaped circle, momentarily landing on Jean who was sitting directly across from you. This was the first time you'd looked at him directly since entering the basement.

"There's one issue though, I don't know everyone's names," you gestured to everyone around the circle.

"I'll introduce you to everyone, (Y/N)," Historia spoke out, turning your attention to her.

The blonde quickly went around the circle, introducing you to everyone so you'd be up to speed. You could only hope that you wouldn't accidentally mess up anyone's name. You tried pinning each name to a slight detail about each person so you wouldn't forget.

"Everyone on the floor," Eren said, and by the single command, everyone got to the ground to sit together in a more functional circle.

Historia glanced up at you as you remained sitting on the couch, unsure if you truly wanted to participate. You made eye contact with her, and after staring at those pleading blue eyes of hers, found your way onto the floor yourself.

"We do things a little differently, you have the option to opt-out of a kiss by simply taking a shot," Eren said, his green eyes darting up at you after placing an empty bottle on the floor in the center of everyone.

"Got it."

As the game commenced, you were simply enjoying the observation of all of the combinations of kisses so far, and all of those who took a shot instead until eventually, it was your turn to spin the bottle.

Sitting up on your knees, you reached for the bottle, delicately placing your fingers on the glass. After giving the bottle a swift spin, you sat back watching with anticipation until the momentum began to die down and the bottle stopped completely.

The neck of the bottle aimed slightly off-center with Eren.

A twinge in your heart was evident for some unknown reason as you readied yourself for the kiss. Placing your hands on the floor, the two of you reached for one another until your lips met his chapped ones.

'One. Two. Three.'

You counted in your head until the kiss was over with. Sure, Eren was attractive enough, but kissing him surely didn't do anything for you. There was nothing else beneficial to the kiss beside the swapping of spit and the aftertaste of bitter booze from his lips. But, the kiss was still fun nonetheless, you guessed.

The turns continued around the circle counterclockwise, everything running smoothly like clockwork as you silently observed everything. That was until Jean reached for the bottle at the center of the circle once it was his turn.

"Go ahead with it, Jean boy," Eren nudged Jean with his elbow.

"Shut the hell up," Jean said, in an attempt to brush Eren off by giving the bottle a good spin.

Jean had already been kissed once so far, and that was when Connie's spin landed on him. Though Jean encouraged Connie to just take a shot, Connie refused, which resulted in a sloppy kiss between the two.

Your teeth sank into the inside of your lip, watching intently as the bottle spins rapidly in wild circles. Anticipation steadily digging away at your insides as the neck of the bottle begins to gradually come to a halt.

'On me?'

You surely were seeing things correctly, the neck of the bottle was pointing directly at you. There was no contemplation at all from Jean whether he skip the kiss and take a shot instead as he pushed himself up from his spot without hesitation.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Jean crawled across the circle towards you, his light hazel eyes staring through you. There was hardly any time to acknowledge the fluttering sensation in your chest as he closed in.

"Hi," Jean greeted, "are you ready?"

With a head nod of confirmation, Jean slowly bobbed his head down, lips hovering over yours as you sat up straight to meet with him. The familiar scent of musky sheer cashmere, of him, infiltrate your nostrils as your lips finally connect.

A tingling sensation rippled across your body from the initial contact. Chills ran across your skin when Jean collected the side of your face into his hand, bringing you in closer towards him to deepen the kiss. There was a pull between both of you like you had to be closer to one another. Fighting the urge to run your hand through his ash brown hair, you twisted your palms together, keeping your hands to yourself as he held you in his hand, tongues overlapping in a passionate kiss.

His facial hair slightly tickled your skin, but you didn't care. All you cared about was how exciting the kiss was, what it was doing to you on the inside, how eye-opening it was.

The two of you didn't bother to pull away from the lip lock until the sound of a few wolf whistles from the others around the circle interrupted the moment.

You were the first to pull away from the kiss, brushing a thumb over your tingly kiss swollen lips.

After months of dating, Floch never kissed you like that, for that you were certain.

Breathless, the kiss left your head airy and your lungs empty, you were quietly fighting for air in your seat. A wave of heat circled through your body, emitting from your core.

Jean found his way back to his spot, turning to look at Eren who whispered something in his ear before Eren proceeded with his turn. Jean slumped against the couch behind him, allowing a heavy exhale to seep from his lips while his chest dropped and his hands lay flat in his lap as his hazel eyes stared at you lazily. A swift breath caught in the back of your throat as you maintained eye contact with him. A light shade of pink dusted a cast over his milky skin.

A few rounds and more mindless kisses later, none of them came anywhere close to Jeans. You were slightly hoping that you'd be kissed again like that for another time during the game, but it didn't happen.

***************

The wooden frame of the pool table from earlier pressed into your backside as you intently scrolled through Instagram with the last bit of battery percentage you had remaining. Floch's Instagram page. Entirely a bad idea to be stalking him like you were right now, but you reasoned with yourself that you just wanted to scroll through his pictures and see if he deleted all of the posts that had you in them as you'd down with yours respectively.

You knew it was a bad idea, but still, that didn't stop you. A pop-up warning you of your battery at ten percent should've been your final warning to stop stalking, but again, you didn't listen to reason.

"Hey, (Y/N)," a familiar voice cooed after the clicking of a door, causing a swarm of emotions to twist inside of you, "I didn't think you'd be back down here."

Turning your head to look at the stairs only to see Jean walking down them, you gave him a slight smile. After the basement cleared out after the rounds of spin the bottle was over with, you knew there'd be hard to no people left in the basement. So, when you wanted a little alone time to yourself, you knew the basement was the best option for you to stalk your ex.

"I didn't think you'd be back down here either," you admitted, lowering your phone slightly to look at him.

"My phone is missing, I think I accidentally left it down here earlier," his hair flopped on his forehead as he cleared the last two steps with a small jump to the floor, "what're you doing down here, playing pool by yourself?"

He teased, heading towards the area where all of you were collected earlier to play spin the bottle. You watched him from far away silently as he diligently searched for his phone. The temptation to help him search arose within you, but as soon as you were about to speak up, you paused, watching as he collected the device into his hand.

"Found it," he checked his cell before shoving it into his back pocket.

You shot him a faint congratulatory smile but stayed quiet.

Instead of heading back upstairs like you thought he would, he gravitated back towards you instead. Standing beside you, your eyes darted away from him as you noticed he was examining you.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

Though you'd just been stalking your ex, it's not like you wanted to rant about him. To a stranger at that.

With a sigh, you shook your head, "kind of? I don't know," you tucked your phone away into your purse with a shrug.

"Not having any fun at the party or something?" His elbow bumped into your left arm with a slight playful nudge.

"It's not that," truly it wasn't that you weren't having fun, because you were.

The kiss you shared with Jean was the biggest thrill you'd had all night, scratch that, the biggest thrill you'd had all week. Almost something worthy enough to dream about. Because It's not like every day you share a mind-blowing kiss with a person you hardly knew.

"I came here to this party to get my mind off of a breakup, but being the loser I am, I'm standing here at a party dwelling over him," you cringed internally after the realization of how you'd just overshared a bit too much.

'Way to go.'

"Well, let's get your mind off of him," Jean took a step off to the side and collected two cue sticks, handing you one, "here."

"But, I don't know how to play pool," you replied, nervously accepting the cue stick.

The only time you played pool was the one time on your phone when you played against Ymir. You lost horribly as the board had been swept clean before you ever got a second turn. The terrible defeat resulted in you deleting the app for good. You haven't played any form of pool since.

"I can teach you as we go along," he offered, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

Jean began to rack all of the balls into the triangle holder, and you watched him mid-process. Noticing how his pants hugged at his hips and how his hair fell over his forehead effortlessly as he reached over the table. Which only reminded you of the incident from yesterday.

"Jean," you spoke, leaning against the cue stick.

Jean lifted his head to look up at you, his eyebrows lifted with a curious expression on his face, "yeah?"

"I just wanted to say sorry again for what happened yesterday, I was in a rush to get back to my dorm and..."

'And that's when Floch broke up with me.'

"Seriously don't sweat it, (Y/N)," he said, making you visibly relax. "It's not often I have a pretty girl run into me," his intense light brown eyes shot you a wink.

All extremities began to tingle as your skin felt ablaze. You turned your head, facing away from Jean to look at the other end of the pool table as your heart fastened in your chest.

"Okay, we're ready to go," Jean eventually spoke again, lifting the holder up and away from the formation of balls. "Would you like to be the one to break the set?"

"Uh... I guess I could give it a try," you said more as a question than a defined answer.

Immediately Jean situated the white cue ball on the opposite end of the table at your response. The cue stick fumbled in your hands after swapping places with Jean. Which he took a step back, observing you fully.

The inside of your lip fell under attack once you sunk your teeth into its sensitive flesh, trying your best to position the stick accordingly. The butt of the stick was held wrapped in your hand tightly as your other hand struggled to find a comfortable position to hold the tip of the stick. You eyed the cue ball down, remembering back to the one time you played pool digitally against Ymir.

This was definitely nothing like the phone game.

'How the hell do you hold this thing?'

Much to Jeans' amusement, he takes a step closer towards you until you can feel his body heat radiating from behind you.

"Try loosening your grip at the butt of the stick, and for your other hand," he chuckled as he viewed your fingers tangled around the thinner end of the stick, "hold the stick using your thumb and index finger, or your middle finger too for more support."

His instructions rambled through your head, resulting in you lowering the pool stick out of confusion. Turning your head to look at him, he took another step towards you.

"Can I..." Jean closed in on you, his waist brushing against you as he guides your hands over the stick with his, "here."

Sure it was a compromising situation from the outside looking in, but you knew it wasn't anything like that, what Jean was doing was just teaching you how to properly handle the cue stick. So why did your heartbeat fasten all of a sudden?

With Jean standing close behind you, you could drink in his musky scent. He was speaking, guiding your hands with his simultaneously, but you didn't hear anything clearly, only focusing on his hands felt on yours.

Jean guided your body gently into a proper stance, helping you aim down the stick. Through your peripheral vision, you noticed his eyes flicker back and forth from you to the task at hand through his ash-colored hair.

You still weren't entirely sure of what it was he was saying. Only when the balls somehow snapped and tumbled across the green-carpeted surface did you snap back to reality. With one look over your shoulder, Jean's eyes were immediately locked down on yours as he stood dangerously close behind you.

"Good job, I think you pocketed in a solid," his hazel orbs were speckled with a fire of emotion.

The proximity of his closeness was currently causing your heart to run laps through your chest. His body heat made your insides feel like putty.

"Thanks, Jean," your words fell from your lips weakly.

When his hazel eyes lowered to your lips, a sharp breath sucked through your mouth, noticing how his large hands were still lingering near your body. There was a shift in the air around both of you, naturally, the pool stick released from your grasp to roll out onto the table. His hands ventured along your body, hooking at your waist gently. He held onto you as you now faced him completely, your backside pressed against the pool table.

Jean lowered his head down, inching closer to your face, his breath fanning your neck, sending another chill up your spine. The bass from the music upstairs thumping in your ears rampantly, or was it your heart?

The pads of his fingers began toying with the small of your back as he held onto you. Your hands were pressed against his chest, feeling the sleek material of his black button-up shirt that covered his toned torso.

Like two forces being pulled together, Jean carefully placed his lips onto yours. In response, your hands trailed up his chest until they were wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss. His soft lips against yours turned feverish like there was a dire need for more. Without breaking the intense lip lock, he swiftly lifted you by hooking his hands under your thighs and set you onto the edge of the pool table.

'Forget about Floch.'

A shiver tickled your spine as Jean broke away from the kiss to plant a trail of kisses on the crook of your neck, nibbling and sucking on your soft skin ever so slightly. A delicate moan escaped from your mouth from all the times Jean's lips kissed on your sweet spot.

"Jean," you breathed out with a pant, "what if someone walks in?"

Though you were trying to focus on having a good time, worrisome thoughts that someone could wander into the basement at any given moment and see both of you hooking up built a barrier in between you and having fun.

Jean pulled away to look at you through hooded lids, "let's hope they don't then for our sake," with one hand, he collects your chin, rubbing his thumb across your kiss swollen lips.

Sure, the thrill of messing around and the chance of getting caught excited you to a certain extent.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you stared at the man straddling you. His hips rocking between your legs in a tantalizing motion as he stared down at you beneath him through hooded lids.

Jean's free hand kneaded your thigh like dough, the crook of his thumb tucked at the band of your lace underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. Discarding the sheer material after it'd been removed from your legs.

Down on his knees before you, Jean carefully led a trail of sweet open mouth kisses from your knee up from the inside of your thigh. His fingertips pushing the material of your dress upward along the way.

"Is this okay?" The heat of his words fans your exposed sex, causing your back to arch out of excitement.

"Mm..." you nod your head, incapable of forming a proper reply.

Your eyes flutter shut once his mouth closes in around your clit, his tongue dancing around in smooth motions against the bud that makes your core tighten. Naturally, you lay back against the pool table, managing to avoid any miscellaneous pool balls on the surface.

Both of his hands grip onto your hips from underneath your dress, moving around in tender circles to caress your body before he swipes his tongue between your soaking wet folds, gathering a taste of you. Another lick from his tongue starting from your core up to your clit has you panting lightly, practically begging for more.

His tongue centers on your clit once again, drinking you in as his tongue flicks rapidly against the bud, berating the nerves as you grind against his face. A thin layer of your slick coats the inside of your thighs as one of his fingers gently plunge into you. Without any hesitation, another one of his digits sinks into you, causing more friction.

His long fingers slide in and out of you, hitting your core in just the right way at perfect momentum. Pushing inside your spongy center at greater force while pulling out swiftly to repeat the process over and over again.

Your fingers tangle through his soft hair in intricate knots while holding onto him the only way you could.

"Jea... Jean," you breathed out a moan.

Hitting your core repeatedly as his tongue strokes and flicks in just the right spots, you finally began to feel your nerves bundle up in your core. It wouldn't be much longer at the pace he was going until he had you at your release.

"Don't stop, Jean," you groaned, almost begging him, "please."

That triggered Jean to grab ahold firmly onto your hip with his left hand, nails digging into your flesh as he fastened his pace both with his tongue and fingers. His fingers sloshed in and out, holding you against his face as your body couldn't take the pleasure anymore.

Eventually, you began to unravel, coming undone as you moaned out his name breathlessly, clenching around his fingers as the pent up nerves rippled through you. Jean planted sweet supple kisses against your clit, sucking slightly as his fingers slowed inside of you at a tantalizing pace while you rode out on your wave of release for as long as you could.

Just as you thought you'd found your end, Jean lifted his face away and replaced his mouth with his thumb. The ball of his thumb kneaded away in rough circles around your sensitive clit as his fingers inside of you picked up in speed. You squirmed under the immense pleasure that was almost unbearable as he milked you to the last drop until the same pent up nerves in your core began to build again. You fell at his mercy, slashing around, moaning outcries of bliss as you ruptured again for a second time, palpitating around the width of his large fingers.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your weight relaxed against the table. Your legs had gone completely numb.

Wobbly breaths exhaled from your lips as Jean carefully retracted his hand. Your eyelashes flutter open from the absence of his fingers, only to watch him push one finger after the next into his mouth, sucking your coat of slick off of his digits. Jean nudged his thumb across the corner of his mouth, wiping the excess fluid away.

Before anyone had the chance to walk through the door, you struggled to stand up straight after sliding off of the side of the pool table. At the same time Jean stood up from his crouched position, your bodies practically pressed together. You couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants as he'd been lingering against you.

Tugging your dress down to adjust yourself, you patted the material to eliminate any wrinkles after sliding on your underwear. Jean stopped to brush his knuckles against your cheek, you couldn't help but think how pleasing it felt to have his cool skin against your burning cheek. His hand folded, his palm cupping against your face as he dipped down to plant a dainty kiss on your lips. Your breathing was still unsteady as you paused to return the kiss.

His bangs tumbled over his forehead while his thumb smoothly raked over your bottom lip after your lips finally disconnected from one another. Ash brown locks dangled in your field of vision, clouding the definition of his face.

Jean tilted his chin, lifting his head slightly to the point where you could finally see the features of his face clearly. The corners of his lips were pinned up into a diminutive smile and a light shade of pink dusted his skin. You couldn't help but smile in response.

Was this your way of getting over a breakup? Hooking up with someone you hardly knew? You couldn't care enough to dwell over the thought.

Just as you were about to say something, the prominent buzz of waves of vibration emitting from your purse caused you to forget the words you had forming in your head. With eyes wide open, you broke out of the trance, searching for your bag that had fallen from your arm.

You mouthed an apology to Jean while struggling to answer your phone.

"Historia-"

"(Y/N), where are you? I've been looking for you because Ymir's drunk and I need help carrying her back to the dorm," Historia spoke over the sound of music in the background. You happened to catch the sound of Ymir groaning some nonsense as well.

"I'll meet you outside near the front door," you managed to say before all sound on the opposite end of the call ceased.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, noticing a completely black screen. Your phone finally died on you.

You were just lucky you'd happen to hear and speak with Historia before your phone went dead. Or what if she didn't manage to hear you?

"Shit."

A sudden urgency burned through you. You needed to go upstairs and meet with Ymir and Historia immediately.

"I have to go, Historia and Ymir are waiting for me upstairs," you managed to say before putting your phone away.

In return Jean took a step away from you, allowing you the space to break free from the pool table. Leaving no time to talk, you formed a beeline straight for the stairs. Jean clasped a hand around your wrist, stopping you mid-step on the second step of the staircase.

Turning around, you looked down at him as he stared up at you.

"So much for that game of pool, (Y/N)," he teased, the smallest playful smirk on his lips. "I'd like to believe you would've won."

A faint heartfelt laugh fell from your lips after hearing his comment, "bye, Jean," you said, and Jean freed your wrist from his grasp.

The tug at your heart was evident as you trailed up the stairs, leaving Jean in the dust behind you. You didn't want to leave the party just yet, you didn't want to leave Jean. Definitely not after having such a mind-blowing hookup. But, by putting your wants aside on the back burner, you knew you had to leave and help Historia out.

#aot #aot smut #aot jean #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #jean x reader

[stark-tony]

underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 2

part 1

Queer Eye for the Cacti by silentsaebyeok

summary: He bought one-hundred cacti on Amazon! Pepper was going to kill him!

What had possessed him to do such a thing? He never went on shopping sprees when drunk. That just wasn’t a Tony Stark type of thing to do. And in all honesty, he was astonished he even remembered the Amazon password.

--

Tony makes an interesting purchase while drunk. What he doesn’t expect is for said purchase to bite him in the ass in the worst possible way.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Tumblr Posts by Jen27ny

summary:   Literally what the title says. All the prompts and one-shots I post on tumblr.

pairings: pepperony, spideychelle

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

warnings:

It Lasts for Always by YellowDistress

summary:  Peter has never asked anyone to kill for him, especially not Tony.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Cursed Christmas by sahiya

summary: A series of unfortunate events befalls Tony, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan (and Happy and May) in the week leading up to Christmas.

It'd be kind of funny if it didn't totally suck. Fortunately, they've got good back-up.

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Keeping your head up by frostysunflowers

summary: It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenceless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out.

 He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.

Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water. 

The water.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: kidnapping

Young, Dumb and Suffering by wordscorrupt

summary: In a moment of desperation, Peter decides to take Steve's pain medication to relieve a migraine.

or

Peter accidentally overdoses on pain medication.

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings:

Midnight Oil by JolinarJackson

summary:  After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

Love Will Remind Us Who We Are by blondsak

summary: There had been many times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which, upon first waking, one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not.

But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now.

//

Nine months after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Tony is still reckoning with the toll the final snap took on his body. Between grueling physical therapy, near-constant pain, and the inability to so much as tie his own shoes, well-- things aren’t exactly like Tony had imagined.

Luckily for him, there’s a certain kid from Queens who won’t let Tony give up so easily.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Summertime Sickness by Spideysickfics

summary: "Well, this is your lucky day, then!" Peter replied enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he broke into a wide grin, "You're looking at a former Boy Scout!"

Tony let out a huff of air.

"No shit, a Boy Scout, huh? When did you quit?"

"First grade." Peter's grin didn’t waver. Tony rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"I'm sure you're very knowledgeable."

OR

An Irondad camping trip and sickfic to soothe your soul

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

to break in these bones by searchingforstars

summary: “We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

--

or, Peter doesn't listen to Tony, pisses off someone dangerous and ends up on the wrong end of a baseball bat.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

5 Times Peter Gave Tony Something by impravidus

summary:  and the 1 time Tony gave him something back

pairings:  none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

You'll Be Here (in My Heart) by seekrest

summary:  The morning that Tony’s life changed forever began as his days usually began now — shuffling into the kitchen half asleep, going through the motions as he searched for Pepper’s favorite coffee mug.

Tony stifled a yawn, grabbing the Black Panther novelty mug she adored while he grabbed one that Morgan had made them years ago - one that made her now cringe with embarrassment anytime she saw him use it, the childish scribbles that made him laugh.

  He sets Morgan’s creation down on the countertop as he reaches for the Black Panther mug, it being just barely out of reach for when Pepper has put it last.

“Damn thing.” Tony mutters to himself, fingers barely brushing against it before he grabs it - going to set it down on the counter only to be surprised when Pepper walks in from the bedroom, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Morning. You know, you and I need to have a talk about about your choice of mugs. I know T’Challa somehow perfected the cup warmer thing here but you could at least show a little—“

“Michelle’s in labor.”

pairings: spideychelle

tags: angst

warnings: none

the little things we don't say out loud by JBS_Forever

summary: “It's not funny,” Peter says, voice catching as he whines, “This is life or death, Ned. I'm actually dying.”

On the other end of the line, Ned sighs, amused and not at all concerned. “So you're Mr. Stark's secret Santa. It's not that bad.”

- - -

In which Peter is Tony's secret Santa, and it is, in fact, that bad.

pairings: none

tags: humor, fluff

warnings: none

Hiking Essentials: A backpack, plenty of water, and a Spider-kid by kiwifeather

summary:  Morgan, Peter, and Tony enjoy each other's company on a hike through the woods while Peter is staying with them for the weekend. Father-and-son bonding ensues

(Takes place after the snap but Tony survives because this is the good timeline and we know that Tony deserved a happy ending)

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

In Case of Emergency by Bowtiez

summary: Babysitting his little sister at the Stark's lakeside cabin seems like quite the gig for 17-year-old Peter. Of course he's got that covered- he's a mature individual and he can watch over a five-year-old for forty-eight hours.

On a totally unrelated note, did anyone know that super-healing doesn't really work on bacterial infections? It's a good thing Morgan knows what to do. Well... it's probably a good thing?

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Three Times Tony Stark Used Italian Nicknames and One Time He Received One by MCUsic_to_my_ears

summary:   Tony can't help but slip into his Italian when with his children.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

More Ancient Than Magic by ironfamjam

summary: Life isn't exactly normal when your Head of House is also kinda your father-figure and his daughter is kinda sorta your little sister.

It's also not normal when the bad guys your real-life-war-hero-not-actually-dad defeated in The Great War threaten to return and you're still just trying to finish your Charms essay.

But Professor Stark asked him to protect Morgan. And that's what he's going to do.

Even if it breaks him.

The mini Hogwarts AU

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: torture

Peaches by peterparkr

summary: There’s no response, not even a faint twinge of muscle. Peter tries to listen for a heartbeat, but he can’t seem to focus enough to pinpoint it. Another bubble of thought starts to rise. This could be the reason his spidey-sense is going haywire. Tony could be—

He pushes the bubble down.

OR

Peter and Tony find themselves stranded in the woods after an Avengers mission

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Snowflakes by Jen27ny

summary:  Tony just wants to see his kids happy - which means letting Morgan stick as many snowflakes to the window as she likes, and making Peter talk about his nightmares.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I Sure Do Like Those Christmas Cookies by baloobird

summary: Tony is spending a fun afternoon baking cookies with his kids, but his older one isn't acting like himself.

Whatever the problem is, it's up to the now-retired hero to figure it out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: bullying, acephobia

An MIT Halloween by bethy_277

summary: Coming to MIT had been difficult, having almost lost his mentor when he had snapped to save the entire universe, and Peter had really struggled. If it hadn’t been for Ned and Harley- who he had met shortly after he came back and become good friends with- he didn’t think he would have made it past the first few weeks at school. He had called both May and Tony that first week, hysterical and begging to come back to New York. May had been patient, Tony had been ready to get in his car to drive to him to help him through it, and Harley and Ned had been there and talked him down both times.  

** Peter is a college student at MIT and Tony brings Morgan up for some trick-or-treating.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Someone Take Me Home by GallagherHunter

summary:  More than a month since May's death Peter is having a less than stellar day at school in the hopes of making it through the day so he can get to the apartment where he's been living with Tony since his world came crashing around him. Meanwhile, Tony has been advised to adopt Peter to assure him he won't leave him.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying

It’s Gonna Be Lit by Pawprinter

summary: What Christmas gift does one get for the man who seemingly has everything?

Peter is struggling to find out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I'll Be Home For Christmas by snarkymuch

summary:  May gets called away for work, and Tony steps in to make sure Peter isn't alone for Christmas. Harley, Morgan, and Peter being adorable kids, and Tony being a great dad.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The power of makeup by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter shows up to a prestigious awards ceremony with a black eye and a whole lot of regret.

Tony raids Pepper's purse and decides to improvise.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky by ftmpeter

summary: There are two things Tony learns about Peter after Morgan is born.

The first thing is that when it comes to kids, he's a natural.

The second thing is that he's a self-sacrificing little shit.

(Tony already knew that. He has the gray hairs to prove it. But. Still.)

It isn't the kind of self-sacrificing that will get him killed or seriously injured - thank God - but it's just as annoying. Maybe even more, because while he can ground Peter from Spider-Man, he can't exactly ground him from staying up all night to make sure Morgan sleeps through it.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

give the cookies a miss by searchingforstars

summary: “Surprise!” Morgan exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She gestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

--

or, Peter is poisoned by the ones he trusts most.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

i want to be with you 'til the whole world ends by searchingforstars

summary: The last thing he does as his eyes slip shut is wrap his arms tighter around Peter, as tight as he can manage when it feels like the life is draining from him.

Please, for the love of God, I'm sorry I couldn't do it, but please, please, someone look after this kid for me.

Tony would give anything to make sure that Peter Parker is safe.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much left to give. He’s about to have nothing left to give.

The world goes dark.

He drifts away.

--

Or, Peter and Tony nearly lose each other.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Of bright autumn days and things that go bump in the night by frostysunflowers

summary: Halloween/fall themed fics featuring plenty of fluff, feels and seasonal shenanigans!

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings: none

Twelve Days of Terror: A Whumptober Collection by seekrest

summary:

pairings: spideychelle

tags: 

warnings: 

#irondad and spiderson #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my fic recs #kidnapping tw #torture tw #acephobia tw #bullying tw

[lilbabycee]

bunny // steve rogers (part one) 🐰

READ PART TWO

↳ summary: the reader finds herself in a little bit of trouble... financially. enter steve rogers. 

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.6k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: i started writing this series ages ago but i’m thinking that maybe posting it on here will give me the inspiration to continue! please enjoy! ❤️

chapter one: you expensive you know that?

—

" you expensive, you know that?

i'm high-maintenance a little but not in a, not in a negative way

i just like extremely expensive things"

- faithful, drake

—

“But Daddy-!”

“No, absolutely not,” your father shuts you down without hesitation which immediately makes your eyes water.

“Please, I promise I won’t do it again-”

“That’s what you said the last time,” he reminds you nonchalantly and you can hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard in the background of the call. He’s not even paying full attention to you, likely still working on whatever the CEO of a multi- billion dollar corporation needs to work on.

“But I’m serious this time!” you insist, cocking a hip and tapping your acrylics loudly on the top of your marble kitchen counter. “You know what I’m like - I swear I’ll do better this time-”

“Nope,” his hard tone cuts you off as you hear his office phone ring. He sighs loudly over the receiver which makes your heart fall. “Look, honey-”

You know what’s coming and you can’t even try to stop it.

“-I’ve got another call coming in. I’m not sending you another dime until you can prove to me that you have the ability to be financially independent. I didn’t pay for all of those expensive private schools so that you could sit on your ass all day and blow my money like it’s in endless supply. You have all the necessary credentials to go and get a well-paying job, so go get one, goddammit. And please call your mother - she’s been trying to call you all day. Neither of us have any time left to entertain your little addictions nor your blatant disregard for the hard work that we’ve put in to get you where you are today.

“You’ve proven to me before that you are grossly incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks, so don’t let me down with this one,” he sighs loudly. “Sometimes, I wish you were more like my colleagues’ kids - they’re doctors and lawyers but all you are is ungrateful. I’ve really gotta take this call,” he says your name sternly which makes you tap your nails even faster. “Do as you’re told for once in your damn life.”

“Daddy-!” you borderline shriek once more before the phone clicks and he’s off attending to more important business.

You don’t even realize that you’re pouting until your lips start to tremble, nor do you realize how much his words have gotten to you until you touch your cheek gently with your fingertips and they come back wet and glistening like gold in the warm light of day.

Maybe he’s right. You’ve been living in this penthouse for the past year without having to worry about anything. You loved it when you attended the first viewing, mainly because of the huge windows, three bedrooms and bathrooms (that you definitely don’t need because you live alone), the open plan, spacious kitchen and living areas, and the fact that all of your neighbors are either famous or excessively wealthy like you. You saw the acquirement of this apartment as a prime opportunity to further climb the social ladder, not that it’s really all that hard for you considering the fact that your father is one of the richest people in not only New York but the entire country. But you’d lived in Italy for a year prior to moving back to New York and upon your return to the USA, you decided that you really wanted to re-establish a name for yourself here, of course with the help of your father. He bought the penthouse almost the moment that you said you had your eye on it, and he just kind of…left you here. He’s only come to visit a handful of times since you bought it two years ago, though your mother has been over far more frequently to your utter dismay.

You inhale deeply through your nose, your eyelash extensions fluttering dramatically against your cheekbones. Grabbing your phone - the newest iPhone that you bought after you broke your other one at your friend Peter’s party - you sulk over to one of your ridiculously overpriced couches and fall dramatically - but not dramatically enough to crease the material of your latest drunk purchase, a white Gucci jumpsuit - on top of all your throw pillows, the picture of a damsel in distress. Your freshly manicured toes - painted white yesterday - curl into the softness of it as you huff, dabbing delicately at your face again to rid yourself of any traces of sadness before thinking about what the hell you’re going to do next.

Yes, you have a savings account that is far more than enough for you and your grandchildren’s grandchildren to live lavish lives and while that’s all well and good, even you know that you probably shouldn’t spend that... but it’d have to do until you found another way to get your money. With that, you shrug noncommittally and your face ID unlocks your phone so that you can start your newest endeavor - buying one of everything off of Alexander Wang.

Sure, you should be proactive and take initiative to finally take the steps to distance yourself from your parents, but you’ve only just had your twentieth birthday. After graduating from high school at fifteen - yes, fifteen: your parents really pushed you, to say the least, and it helped that you were naturally intelligent beyond the capabilities of even the nation’s best high school teachers -  you started your undergraduate at Harvard in the fall and finished at eighteen. You took what you dubbed an ‘extended summer vacation’ - hence Italy - and now you’re at an impasse.

Okay, admittedly your various interests - you refuse to call them addictions because they’re really not that serious - that may or may not include a wide array of party drugs and alcohol probably don’t make you the most trustworthy person in the eyes of your parents. But you’ve done everything that they’ve told you to do for the past twenty years of your life - can they blame a girl for wanting to have a little fun? A smile spreads across your face as, while scrolling, you spy the blue dad jeans that were completely out of stock just last week and quickly add them to your cart with a sense of self-satisfaction before continuing to add almost everything else to your bag. It’s not like you’re heavily dependent on anything - substance abuse is not a good look for you: it was definitely more early 2000s than now - and you only do them recreationally in social situations, so your parents really have nothing to worry about. They’re overly paranoid about you somehow tarnishing their image when in reality, your work in and outside of an academic setting has really bolstered their reputation more than they could have ever hoped for - not to toot your own metaphorical horn, but your endless philanthropic work coupled with your eagerness to “make a change” and your work in fashion has put you on the Forbes 30 Under 30 every year since you were fifteen.

You press the checkout button and your Apple Pay seamlessly completes the purchase for you: $29,000. Shrugging noncommittally, you lock your phone and stare pensively at the picturesque view of New York City outside of your window; that is until Alexa alerts you that Natasha is calling you.

Perfect timing.

Natasha’s voice echoes over the loudspeakers in the ceiling. “Hey, bunny,�� she greets you and you groan loudly at the nickname, restlessly hopping up to grab a glass of water from your kitchen.

“Hey Nat,” you reply, more of a whine than anything else, and she laughs loudly at your tone.

“What happened to you? “

“Daddy cut me off,” you huff, walking to the couches in front of the TV and settling down with your glass of water. With a press of a few buttons on the universal remote, you FaceTime your best friend instead - a flash of red hair and then a blindingly white smile. She assesses you on your couch and laughs again, a full-bodied cackle that only intensifies your pout.

“It’s not funny,” you protest, although the corners of your lips are quirking up in amusement at her ridiculous laughter.

“What did I tell you?” Natasha struggles to get the words out in between chuckles. “I knew he was gonna do this-”

“Yeah, so did I, but I didn’t think he’d do it this soon-!”

“I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner,” Natasha moves around a little before propping her phone up against her knees so that you can see her sitting comfortably in her bed. She starts picking at her own black acrylics, “and you can’t deny, bunny-”

“Don’t say I deserve this,” you narrow your eyes at her, and Natasha only sends you her signature smirk.

“I wouldn’t say you deserve it, per se,” Natasha begins, “but you’ve gotta admit,” she says your name, clearly on the verge of laughter again, “I like a party as much as the next girl, but you do go a little overboard-”

“I wouldn’t say overboard,” you insist, suddenly taking up a very keen interest in your cuticles. “Here’s what it is: Mother doesn’t like the fact that I don’t like her and Daddy’s just flat out disappointed in me for no reason-”

“-apart from the fact that you very nearly got caught doing lines of blow off of Senator Pierce’s son-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupt her, closing your eyes and pressing a finger to your lips while shaking your head, unable to fight the growing grin on your face. “That was one time-”

“You mean the one time you got caught-?”

“Yes, Natasha, that’s what I mean. Anyway - you never call me like this unless you need something - thought you were gonna text me instead. What’s up? Is it Bru-”

“Oh, no,” Natasha quickly cuts you off, her cheeks flushing red. “Bruce and I have been over for a while now-”

“You were just talking about him last week-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she deflects, tapping her fingers on her thigh. “I was actually calling to see if you wanted to go shopping for Parker’s party that’s tonight-?”

“Yes, absolutely yes - why would you even have to ask-?”

“Okay, cool,” she interrupts you, smiling toothily. “Get Jarvis to get you there by 2:30 - I wanna go to the Louis store: the summer collection just dropped-”

“Sounds perfect-”

“But one more thing,” she says your name again but in a more concerned tone. You finish your glass of water and set it on the coffee table before leaning forward slightly.

“What’s going on, Nat?”

“I’m worried about you, bunny,” both her eyes and her tone have softened drastically, making you purse your lips. “What’re you gonna do now that your dad’s not giving you any more money?”

You sigh loudly through your nose, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Nat,” you admit, snapping a hair tie against the skin of your wrist rapidly. “I’ll just have to find a job - or do more sponsorships and ads and get back into modeling and maybe actually try acting this time?”

Her green eyes pin you to your couch, even through the screen, and she scrutinizes your face for almost a full thirty seconds before scrunching up her nose and nodding hesitantly. “Alright. As long as you’re sure that you can make it work… because if not, I have an option that I think you may like…”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline as you motion for her to continue.

“Y’know how Wanda got really into that thing a couple of years ago?”

Your brain works overtime, trying to remember exactly what it was that Wanda was doing - all you remember is that it was fairly secretive and she didn’t tell you a lot about why she kept sneaking around.

“She was seeing that older guy,” you snap your fingers when you remember, Natasha’s slow nod confirming it, and then promptly frown because-

“What does this have to do with me?” You stare directly into Natasha’s eyes as she falters, obviously wondering if it’s too late to just backtrack altogether - yes, it is - and then she sighs.

“She wasn’t just seeing him,” your best friend starts slowly, choosing her words with great care, “she was his sugar baby.”

Now, this is news to you.

“You’re fucking with me,” you scoff in disbelief. “Wanda?”

Natasha keeps nodding, blowing her bubblegum between her rouge-painted lips until it pops with a sharp snap. “I’m serious, you can go ask her. But believe me, I was just as surprised as you when she first told me-”

“She didn’t tell me,” you murmur, something akin to betrayal burning your tear ducts. Natasha only barks out a laugh and clucks her tongue at you in a decidedly motherly way.

“Of course she didn’t tell you,” the redhead snorts, shaking her head. “She didn’t want you getting any ideas,” she says your name through a laugh, “you were - what - like eighteen two years ago? That would’ve been questionable at best -”

“But you guys didn’t know that I was gonna do anything-”

“Come on, bunny,” Natasha pins you with a look that shuts you up almost immediately. “Give us some credit - we’re not dumb and we know you-”

“Fine,” you drag out the last syllable of the word childishly. “So why mention it to me now?”

“Because you’re old enough… and in a situation where your Daddy’s not paying for any of your stuff anymore.”

You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve got, like, a lot of other opportunities that I don’t even need to work for,” you tell her cockily, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “Why should I take this one when I could get any other real job so easily?”

Natasha’s lips curve into that same smirk. “Because you’re a whore.”

You collapse into a fit of giggles but she’s right. Really and truly, you are - what you like to call - a self-proclaimed slut. But any woman who’s free enough in her sexuality seems to be one these days, so you own the title that’s been hurled at you like an insult for so many years. You wear it with pride... for the most part, but not too much pride because you still have parents who still - somehow - think you’re a total virgin.

(you are still a virgin but your promiscuity makes people think otherwise)

“Right,” you agree easily, tapping your nails on the arm of the couch.

“Just something for you to think about,” Natasha hums, checking the time on her watch before rubbing the sleeve of her white Balenciaga hoodie over her face “Now, leave me alone. I’ve gotta go get ready; I’ll see you in a few.”

Without any further conversation, she ends the call and leaves you laughing light-heartedly although something heavy continues to weigh on your conscience. A sugar daddy. You can’t lie to yourself and say that it’s something that you’ve never thought about before - because it most definitely is - and it’s been the shameless subject of some of your filthiest dreams. Are you going to lie and say that you don’t have an… affinity for older men? No, you aren’t. Are you gonna tell yourself that the idea of a man spoiling you doesn’t make heat burn in your core? Absolutely not. However, you’ve never thought of yourself as the submissive type. Your confidence - no, cockiness has always been a real defining trait for you and that’s always worked in your favor when it comes to romance or even sex. You take what you want, rather than waiting for it to come to you. Although, you have a feeling that an attitude like that could get you in a lot of trouble in circumstances like these.

But what’s life without a little danger?

—

You’ve put on a tight, cropped black t-shirt and on top, a brown Fendi mini dress with thin spaghetti straps that clings to your body like a second skin; your feet are clad in heeled Louboutin ankle boots. Grabbing your black Prada bag and almost comically giant black, square Burberry sunglasses, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You only put on a little bit of blush, mascara, and tinted lipgloss, accessorizing with small golden hoops, an array of rings that have been gifted to you by either your father or your ex-boyfriends and a simple gold necklace that spells out ‘bunny’ in cursive, a gift from Natasha. Satisfied, you slide your sunglasses onto your face and head to the elevator, phone in hand.

When you reach the lobby, Jarvis is waiting for you, holding the door open with a kind smile on his face.

“Miss,” he greets you, ushering you out the door. You basically jump on him, winding your arms around his neck and he chuckles as you sway back and forth in your embrace.

“Afternoon, Jarvis,” you grin at him.

The two of you walk outside to the black Range Rover with the tinted windows - black matches your outfit today - and as you climb in the back, your security detail split up into the other SUVs in front and behind you.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Jarvis asks you conversationally, stopping at a red light not even 15 seconds after you pull away from the front of your apartment. Damn New York traffic.

“Nat and I are going to Nordstrom’s,” you tell him despite the fact that he already knows, but he nods regardless. “And then Peter Parker’s hosting a party tonight.”

“And will you be needing a ride to that event?”

“No thanks, J,” you shoot him a smile before looking back down at your phone. “I’ll probably get a ride with Natasha.”

Jarvis nods and the rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence, the radio playing softly and the clicking of your nails on your phone screen the only sounds in the car.

—

“There’s absolutely no way you’re wearing that-”

“Shut up, Nat!” you squeal, grabbing the dress off the rack. “It’s kinda cute!”

Your best friend rolls her eyes at you fondly, staring at the monstrosity that you’re clutching in your hands.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” she deadpans, searching your face almost desperately for any sign of sarcasm.

You act offended: “I’m not!”

Nat just pokes you in the sides, tugs on your earlobe, and continues her hunt, which makes you burst into loud laughter and leaves the store employees looking at the two of you  in what you’ve come to recognize as contained, professional amusement.

—

It’s about an hour before the party starts when you even start thinking about getting ready. In a Versace robe with your hair wrapped up in a towel, you’re scrolling through Instagram with a mud mask on. Nat comes into the room and shrieks at the sight of your face, making you flick your eyes up and grin as wide as the mask lets you. With her hand over her heart, she stares at you dryly while silent little chuckles shake your whole body.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarks, eyeing you with an air of suspicion.

“Of course I am, Nat,” you look at her in disbelief. “I’m about to get wasted tonight-”

She interrupts you by calling your name out in a warning tone. Your only response is a dramatic roll of your eyes.

“We’re going so that we can have fun, not so you can go on a bender-”

“I won’t!” you drop your phone and throw your hands up in exasperation. “Holy shit, Mom - do you have no confidence in me?!”

Loud silence hangs in the air for a minute while Nat just blinks at you.

“...remember when you left me alone in Manhattan because you went to go trip on acid with Senator Coulson’s son-”

“Oh my God, Nat, okay, I get it - I’m a shitty friend and a drug addict, blah blah blah, whatever-”

“You’re not an addict,” she corrects you. “You just... really like doing drugs.”

You shrug, stretching your arms over your head, bringing them back down and then slapping your hands loudly on the bare skin of your thighs. The sound makes Nat flinch which amuses you mildly before you yawn loudly.

“Need me to help you with anything before I start getting ready?” you offer, knowing that once you start getting ready, you’re going to be in your own little world for about an hour and a half.

Natasha - who is significantly less high-maintenance than you - shakes her head. You nod, standing up and heading into her bathroom to wash the mud off your face.

“Did you think about what I told you earlier?” she asks, following you into the spacious room to lay on the chaise tucked against the wall behind you. You lock eyes with her in the mirror as she stretches herself out like a feline.

“Yeah,” you say nonchalantly. “Just for a little, but I don’t know if that kinda thing is for me.”

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, looking down at her nails. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering ‘cause Wanda said there would be some people that she knows are into that kinda thing at Parker’s tonight-”

Oh, now your interest is peaked. You whip around, towel still in hand from drying your face, and stare her dead in the eye.

“For real?”

“Yeah, but if you’re not really interested-”

“Shut up, Natasha, you know I’m interested.” Your heart beats fast in your chest and your teeth catch on your lower lip, gnawing on it gently. Your fingers come back up to your wrist and stretch the elastic so that it bounces back against your skin. “Like… a lot of them will be there?”

She nods, regarding you with cool interest. “At least that’s what Wanda said. She’s better versed in this whole thing than I am.”

You can only bob your head up and down, suddenly nervous about attending this party. Natasha can sense it, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“Look, bunny, it’ll be fine,” she gives you a reassuring smile. “They’ll love you. And if you change your mind, you won’t even have to interact with them in the first place; you’ll just be like any other person attending this thing. But Wanda knows a lot of them - that should be reassuring enough: she knows all about these guys, so it’s not like she’s going to introduce us to any major creeps.”

“Okay.”

—

“Okay,” you breathe out. Okay, you can do this. You’ve met presidents and prime ministers, singers and actors, kings and queens, but you’ve never been this nervous in your entire life.

Granted, none of those people were asking you to exchange sex for money, so it’s not really the same thing.

You’re wearing Dolce & Gabbana tonight - because they asked you to - and the golden silk dress that hits your mid-thigh and hugs your body so tight that it looks as if you were poured into it makes it all worth it. It shows off all of the dips and curves of your body and paired with your Alexander Vauthier clear slingback heels and a gold Vanina pearl-embellished handbag, you feel like a million dollars (even though that’s definitely not what this outfit costs). Natasha is standing next to you in a black Dolce & Gabbana corset dress - because they asked her to - and black red bottoms.

Your long red nails come up to toy with your ‘bunny’ necklace while you scan the massive crowds for a friendly face. It’s true that between the two of you, it is very much likely that you know - or know of - everybody here. But you don’t spare them a second glance despite the fact that they’re ogling you. No, you don’t linger on the bulging muscles and impressive height nor the full lips and pretty hair like you usually do. Instead, you’re looking for-

“Wanda! ” you call out, eyes falling on her reddish-brown hair flowing down her back in loose waves.

She’s standing by the bar, speaking to someone that you don’t know when she turns around, blue eyes quickly landing on you as she gives you that charming smile. Grabbing Nat’s hand, you run over to her and envelop her in a warm embrace. She squeals loudly, stumbling back as you realize that she’s probably already had a few drinks by now.

“Hi, guys,” she greets the two of you, looking up and down at your outfits approvingly. “You look hot.”

You return the compliment and pressing a kiss to her cheek, you stroke her hair while she and Nat engage in conversation. You take the opportunity to stare at all of the different groups of people who have gathered on Peter’s rooftop. There must be at least 300 people here already - the night has barely started - and you can see not a single person who looks like an old man. You furrow your brow, squinting and pushing up on your toes to see if you can see anyone that you don’t vaguely recognize from somewhere or another.

“Lookin’ for someone?”

The voice is unmistakable.

“Peter!”

He says your name in what’s only a mildly offensive mockery of your tone. You abandon Wanda and throw yourself into the arms of the boy, ruffling his already unkempt hair and also smacking a loud kiss on his cheek. He chuckles, his arm winding around your waist as he says hello to both Wanda and Nat.

Apparently you’re in a hugging mood tonight.

“I’m glad you guys could all make it,” he smiles so sweetly that you kiss him again, his cheeks turning flaming red. Peter has always been like a little brother to you although he’s actually a year older. You both went to high school and college together, and it helps that your mother and his aunt are also really good friends.

Except you don’t know how anybody could want to be friends with your demon of a mother.

“We couldn’t miss this,” Wanda gestures around her, pinching Peter on the cheek like a child which makes him frown. “Where’s MJ, Petey?”

You all “ooh” like high schoolers and Peter’s face turns somehow even redder - your heart swells - and he takes this as his cue to leave, slipping away and mumbling something about having to greet guests like a good host. It makes you all giggle, watching the boy with fond eyes.

Wanda abruptly turns to you, downing the champagne that she picks up off of the tray of one of the passing waiters.

“So Nat told me that you’re looking for a sugar daddy-”

“Shhh!” you hiss at her, clamping your hands tightly over her mouth because oh my god, Wanda, please speak louder. This makes Natasha laugh into her own glass of champagne.“Oh my god, why are you yelling?”

“Okay,” she drags it out and rolls her eyes, leaning into your group of three and whispering exaggeratedly. “So I heard you’re looking for a sugar daddy.”

“Sure, okay,” you whisper back, looking around before standing up straight because it’s just occurred to you how sketchy you all must look huddled in a circle like this. “So like… how does this work? Do we just… go up to them? Is there like some kind of code-?”

Wanda snorts loudly, throwing her head back and laughing. Your face slips into a pout and you cross your arms over your chest.

“No, idiot,” Wanda replies, pulling a tube of lipstick and a mirror out of her clutch. She starts to apply it while speaking to you. “They’re here already, and we’ve just gotta go up to them,” she smacks her lips together with finality, “and tell them we’re interested. Or, more like you’re going up to them and we’re here for moral support.”

“What happened to your guy, Wanda?” Nat asks, signaling to the bartender for a refill.

“And how did you get into it?” you ask her, one eyebrow quirking.

She smiles conspiratorially and runs her hands carefully through her hair. “There’s an app. And Viz and I are still together-”

“Viz? ” you almost choke on your own spit because you laugh so hard. Natasha joins you in a far more respectful way, her shoulders shaking as she picks up her now-full glass. Getting literal daggers thrown at your face would’ve been less piercing than the look that Wanda’s giving you right now, so you decide to shut your mouth and listen.

“Yes,” she says your name condescendingly, which makes you roll your eyes. “His name is Vision - it’s a long, personal story that I won’t share with either of you because you both fucking suck,” she stares the two of you down, “but that’s his nickname and what everyone calls him. It’s kinda cool, you know: super contemporary. Like Madonna or Beyoncé or Cher-”

“Okay,” Natasha licks her lips, putting one of her hands on her hip. “We get it, Wanda, thanks. But you told us that you guys broke up-?”

“Yeah, we just took a break,” Wanda shrugs. “Now, we’re back together and better than ever.”

You and Nat share a look before blinking back at Wanda, nodding your heads compliantly.

“So,” you rock back on your heels and start snapping your hair tie again. “Are we gonna go do this, or?”

Wanda’s eyes drift down to your wrist before she places a hand on top of it, stilling your actions. Your eyes are wide and glossy, your teeth worrying your lip.

“What’re you nervous about?” Wanda begins quietly, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb. “They’ll love you - they’re all super cool and really hot. I think that the only problem that you’ll have is that you’ll be spoilt for choice.”

Your laugh comes out watery but sincere nonetheless, so Wanda loops her arm through yours while Natasha grips your hand tightly.

“Maybe we should get you a drink-”

“No, Nat,” you inhale deeply. “I wanna be completely sober for this. After… after, yeah. I’m definitely gonna need a drink after.”

You all laugh while Wanda weaves you through swathes of socialites, stopping to say hello to some people. When you finally make your way all the way to the other end of the roof, you can see why you didn’t see them before. There is a set of stairs that lead down to what looks like a zen garden. Tall torches flame a collection of very comfortable-looking couches are placed around a stone firepit and on top of those couches are a group of some of the most handsome men that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first one to make eye contact with you is astoundingly attractive, so much so that you almost trip over your own feet. You know- you can just tell that he smells incredible. His mahogany skin shines in the light of the fire, and his full lips curve over a gap-toothed smile that he shoots your way; it immediately makes a smile of your own spread on your face. His beard is lined up to perfection and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his whiskey brown eyes. A little bit of his chest hair pokes out from underneath the top of his almost halfway-unbuttoned dress shirt and your mouth waters. You almost feel sorry for the slacks that are hugging his thighs sinfully tight because his powerful legs look like they’re about to burst through the seams.

You decide that you’ve never wanted to be a pair of pants so badly in your life.

Jesus Christ. These men aren’t even close to what I expected.

All you can say is that you’re glad to see that the same caliber of attractiveness holds up for the rest of them.

The man next to him has longer brunette hair that hits his shoulders and you just want to run your hands through the silky strands. He has a bit more of a rugged look, his facial hair groomed purposely to give off that energy. He’s wearing a tight, long-sleeve black shirt and black slacks too, the monochrome outfit highlighting every inch of his well-toned body. When you look at him, he’s staring down into his glass, the sweetest smile on his face that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. But then he looks up at you, and you’re taken aback by the vibrance of his steel-blue eyes. It stops your breath momentarily, and you have time to regain it when he taps the man next to him on the knee and points towards the three of you.

The man in question raises his head, face shielded partially by a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. His blonde hair is slicked back away from his face, and you take a second to admire his prominent bone structure. But he’s looking right past you, eyes boring holes into Wanda which makes you stop your ogling.

You assume that this must be Vision.

There’s one of the men who isn’t facing you and doesn’t even turn around to do so, but you can make out his extremely broad shoulders clad in a white t-shirt even from where you stand a distance away. Even the back of his head is attractive, his thick neck and pushed-back blonde hair. Wanda tugs on your arm impatiently, evidently eager to reach her man.

The three of you linked together almost fall down the stairs before you regain your collective composures and strut over there with all the confidence that you don’t feel. Wanda lets you and Nat go when you draw closer, fixing her hair before the brightest grin that you’ve ever seen on her face shines at Vision. He opens his arms to greet her and you have to look away because of the very much x-rated kiss that she plants on him: you feel like you’re intruding on something.

“Jesus,” Nat snorts in your ear, her hand still resting in yours. This makes you giggle, high-pitched and nervously, so Nat squeezes your hand before she pulls you forwards.

Wanda has situated herself in the lap of her man, his hand resting gently on her hip. She clears her throat, cheeks red from her public display of affection, and begins to speak.

“Hi, guys,” she says, waving and smiling at all the men politely. They all greet her back warmly, raising their hands too. “These are my best friends. This is Nat,” she gestures to the girl next to you and Nat just nods her head in acknowledgment.

“And this is the friend I told you about,” Wanda introduces you by name to the four men who she points at in turn: “Bunny, this is Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Vision, and Steve Rogers.”

Giving a little awkward wave of your hand, you unglue your eyes from the floor and scan all of the men up close now.

They’re all so much prettier up close.

From this distance, you can now clearly see how pretty Sam’s eyes are, how bright Bucky’s smile is, how strong Vision’s jaw is, and-

Holy shit.

It’s obvious that you must’ve died and gone to heaven some time in these past few minutes because Adonis’ blue eyes are scorching holes into your face. His high-neck white long sleeve sweater is probably in his size but the way that his muscles flex under the material is telling you otherwise. The size of his biceps - probably as big as your head - briefly make you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around your neck-

If you stare hard enough at his pecs - which you are - you can see the hard peaks of his nipples; you decide that there’s something so sensual about that and if that alone didn’t just make you wet, you decide that you can’t be human. The sweater is tucked into grey checkered pants with a black Yves Saint Laurent belt wrapped around his surprisingly narrow waist. He’s leaning back in his seat with his huge hands on his thighs, his strong legs spread wide almost an invitation for you to crawl between them. Your eyes move past his clearly tailored pants to his huge feet clad in black Versace loafers and you can feel the liquid that pools in your cunt. Realizing that you’re shamelessly checking this poor man out, your eyes snap up to his face only to have the breath completely knocked out of you, not for the first time tonight.

Not only is his body complete perfection, but his face is also arguably even better. His defined jawline gives you the urge to run your tongue over it but that beard. Your squeeze your thighs together because you want to know how it feels between your thighs. His ears are perfectly proportional to his head - a characteristic that should never be underestimated, mind you - and his cheekbones are high. But you can’t ignore the fullness nor the rosy pigmentation of his lips - his lower lip is fuller than the top and you wanna bite it so bad and he’s smirking a little. When you finally lock eyes with him, you feel as if you’re drowning but admittedly even if you were, you wouldn’t mind doing so in the blue of his irises. They darken slightly when they train onto yours, and one of his perfect eyebrows lifts questioningly.

This whole interaction has only lasted about five seconds but it feels like you’re in a movie, everything moving in slow motion. He stands up abruptly and you do actually choke at his size, his sheer height and width alone soaking your panties. One hand in his pocket, he takes slow, measured steps until he stands directly in front of you, not even sparing a glance at Natasha.

“Bunny, huh?” you pray that your knees won’t give out at his deep baritone and you can’t take your eyes away from his, even when he sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Steve Rogers.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​ @evnscvll​ @stargazingfangirl18​

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #sugar daddy au #soft dark steve rogers

[sukifans]

KEEP THE CHANGE // sokka

SUMMARY: this very attractive guy comes in every night during your graveyard shift at the 24-hour diner you work at, always doing something on his laptop. he might be selling organs on the black market, but he tips, like, really well.

WARNINGS: language, mentions of sex, guns/robbery, panic attacks, generally darker themes, all characters are 20+

WC: 5.5k

A/N: anotha one. 5.5k words accidentally. i plan on doing a part 2 and maybe more at some point, but for now i just had to get this idea out

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Things I Know About Him:

1. He’s very attractive.

The bell above the door jingled and you looked up expecting to see an exhausted, slightly smelly middle-aged trucker like usual. When instead it was a cute guy around your age — tall, smooth tan skin, dark brown hair in a ponytail with shaved sides, wearing black joggers and a white t-shirt that showed tribal-style tattoos inked over the toned muscle of his arms — the smile you usually had to paint on for customers was genuine for once.

“Hey, how are ya?” you asked, standing from the table where you’d been rolling the cheap silverware in paper napkins.

“I’m fine, how are you?” he responded politely, shifting the weight of the backpack strap he had slung over one shoulder.

“Better now that there’s a new face in here. Just you tonight?”

“Seems that way.”

“Alright. Grab a seat wherever you’d like and I’ll bring you a menu.” You waved your hand out to gesture at all the open tables in the empty diner.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Just a coffee would be great, thanks,” he said as he made his way to a booth in the corner.

“You got it.” You moved behind the bar top to fill your pot with coffee and brought him over a chipped ceramic mug on a plate. You met his eyes when you set it down in front of him and you were almost struck frozen by how beautiful they were. They were the color of the sky on those perfect cloudless summer days when the sun seems to shine a little hotter; the color of the ocean in those tourist trap vacation agency promotional posters. You shook yourself to quickly recover, though given the opportunity you would’ve gladly stared into his eyes for the rest of your shift.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing you a small smile that revealed a peek of white teeth. The hell was a specimen like that doing in a place like this? He looked he belonged in one of those Calvin Klein ads.

“No problem. Let me know if you need something else.” You turned away when he nodded an acknowledgement as he pulled a laptop from his bag, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt.

2. He takes his coffee weird.

The first time you saw him make his coffee you were horrified. You watched from behind the counter, amused at first, as he poured white sugar from the dispenser into the drink for a nonstop ten seconds. Sure, some people had a strong sweet tooth; that wasn’t too bizarre. You had to cover your mouth to stifle your irrepressible groan of disgust when he started drinking without even stirring to dissolve the crystals.

After some time it stopped being so horrifying and just became funny. You always had to avert your gaze to choke down your laughter when you spotted him crunching down on the undissolved sugar. If he hadn’t been so attractive it would’ve been creepy, but when he did it, it was... almost endearing.

3. He has money.

Every morning as the sun started rise you would turn to look at his table only to find him gone, leaving only neatly stacked dishes and a twenty-dollar bill behind. Even if he only drank coffee (total: $2.43, with tax, free refills), he would leave the bill. The first couple times he came in and did this you scanned the parking lot to look for him but it seemed like he’d vanished into thin air. After a week, you confronted him.

“You know, the coffee is only like two bucks,” you commented as you refilled his mug.

“I know,” he said.

“You’ve left a twenty here every night.”

“I know.”

You furrowed your brow. “We can give change here, y’know.”

“Keep it.”

“That’s a lot. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He obviously wasn’t a man of many words, so you dropped it. If he had money to burn and decided to burn it on you, you’d take it. “Starving artist” isn’t just a saying, after all, and this shift didn’t exactly rake in the tips.

4. He has something either illegal or important (or both!) on that laptop.

He always sat in the same spot: a booth all the way in the corner with his back facing the wall, computer sitting close to his chest. It looked very suspicious, for someone who was probably trying not to look suspicious. No matter how many times you tried to sneak a glance at the screen while you refilled his cup you couldn’t catch anything. You’d have to practically be on his lap to see something and, well, it wasn’t that kind of establishment and you weren’t that desperately curious.

At least you knew it (probably) wasn’t some sort of freakish porn — he never wore headphones and his hands were always above the table either typing, lifting his mug, or scribbling something in chicken scratch in a worn moleskin notebook. It wouldn’t’ve been the first time someone had tried to use the diner’s free wifi for something like that. You would’ve hated to have to ban him for life.

Things He Might Be Doing:

1. Selling organs on the black market

2. Making a new-age tech startup selling GPS microchips to helicopter parents

3. Running the r/TheRedPill forum

4. Investigating conspiracy theories

5. Starting new conspiracy theories to hide The Truth

6. Solving crimes/murders online à la Don’t Fuck With Cats

7. Anonymous

8. Undercover detective trying to crack the cold case of a family member’s/close friend’s/lover’s suspicious and untimely death that was ruled an accident

9. Government whistleblower putting together a groundbreaking report

10. Robot gaining sentience and plotting uprising

11. Clone seeking revenge on his creator

12. Robot clone gaining sentience AND seeking revenge now that he can Feel

13. Studying/writing/doing a project/anything else realistic and boring

With a sigh, you looked up from your scribble-filled notepad. There he was in all his glory: laptop out, half-drunk coffee to his right, notebook under his elbow to his left, a pen stuck behind each ear and one in his hand that he tapped thoughtfully against his chin. What he didn’t realize was that the cap of the pen was off, leaving dark marks on his skin. The sight made you shake your head with a small smile. You turned to fill your pot with “fresh” (quotes added out of legal obligation) coffee for the trucker that sat at the bar top with a patty melt.

“Ah, fuck,” you heard from the corner booth. When you glanced over you saw him wiping his tongue with a handful of paper napkins, black ink all down his chin and the front of his shirt. The pen must’ve exploded while he was biting on it (a habit of his, you’d noticed). Even the trucker guffawed when he saw the mess. You headed over to his booth after refilling the other man’s coffee.

“I’d offer the Tide pen I keep in my purse, but I don’t think it’d do much for you,” you commented as you replenished his coffee. He glanced up at you with a grimace.

“I appreciate the gesture,” he sighed, huffing when he realized the napkin dispenser was empty. You scooped up the pile of ink-saturated paper.

“I’ll get a few rags.” He nodded in thanks and closed both his laptop and notebook, shoving them out of the way on the seat next to him. You brought out a couple rags soaked in warm water and wiped up the mess on the table while he scrubbed his face. Even after his skin was rubbed raw, there was a tinge of black around his mouth.

“Thanks-” his eyes flicked to the plastic name tag you wore on your chest, “-(Y/N).” He knew your name from how often he’d come in but he wanted to be extra sure.

“Sure thing,” you said, waving your hand. “I see you in here a lot but I’ve never gotten your name.” When he only hummed in agreement and didn’t provide a name you pursed your lips. “So, what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Your name,” you giggled a little.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s not that important.”

Okay, weird. Maybe he had an odd name and he was embarrassed. “If I guess it will you tell me?”

“Sure.” He visibly seemed to relax a little. So definitely an uncommon name that he didn’t expect you to guess, then.

“Can I at least know what it starts with?”

He hesitated. “An ‘S.’” You smiled.

“Righty-o, Steven. Can I get you anything else while I’m here?” You pulled out your small notepad from your apron pocket and held your pen at the ready.

“Ah, no. I’m alright, thanks.”

“Alright, Shawn. Let me know if you think of something.” The corners of his mouth quirked up into a grin at your little game as you pocketed your notepad and walked away, soiled rags in hand. When you came back out from disposing of the rags, the trucker was gone and it was just the two of you left in the diner. Soft music crackled from the old speakers hung from the ceiling and he was back to typing away. You felt a little panic in your chest — he’d been coming in every night for the past month and a half and that was the most conversation you’d ever had with him. You had your in and you couldn’t let it go to waste now.

He looked up from his screen, eyebrow quirked, when you slid into the seat across from him. “What’s up?”

You shrugged. “Nothing. Just talking to my best customer named... Sam?” He shook his head and you groaned.

“Best customer?”

“Of course. I think you singlehandedly paid my utilities this month, Simon.” You folded and unfolded a paper straw wrapper idly as you spoke.

“Ah, I see,” he nodded. “Is that all it takes to get in your good graces?”

“Pretty much.”

“Sounds like you need a sugar daddy.”

“Are you offering?” You gave him a teasing grin that made his cheeks color pink.

“I, uh-“ he stammered and you laughed.

“Seth, I’m kidding.” You rolled the straw wrapper up into a little ball and flicked it at him around the laptop screen. It bounced off his chest and he chuckled nervously.

“Right, of course.”

“So, what do you do all night on that computer, anyways?” Self-consciously, he lowered the screen and you rested your cheek on your palm, propping your elbow on the table.

“Just some work,” he answered evasively. Right, illegal or important or both — the age old question with this guy.

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, you work at night.”

“Because I have a day job, too. And I like nighttime.”

“Me too.”

“Which one?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

You sat back in your seat, a little embarrassed at getting carried away and prying. “Sorry, I’m just curious. I don’t have a lot of regulars on this shift and I just think you’re... interesting.”

“Interesting? How so?” He smirked in a teasing, knowing way that made your heart flutter and your face burn.

“A cute guy that comes in at the same time, every time, to do work in the middle of the night and always leaves a massive tip is pretty interesting, at least by my standards.”

He faltered. “You think I’m cute?”

“You’re alright for a nocturnal weirdo, Sebastian.” You winked and stood up, smoothing down your uniform. “I should probably get back to work. If Mack sees me sitting down with someone he’ll watch back the security footage and clock me out for however long I was here.” You jutted your thumb out behind you to indicate the cook and manager of the diner who you could both hear clanging around in the kitchen.

“Sounds like a hardass,” he said as he pulled his screen back open.

“Yeah, well...” You shrugged again. “It is what it is, y’know? Anyways, just shout if you need anything. It was nice talking to you, Shane.”

When he left at sunrise as usual, there was an extra five dollar bill on his table along with the usual twenty. You grinned when you picked it up and saw that on it he’d written down a phone number and simply signed it from “S.”

5. His name starts with S.

“What are you so happy about?” Zuko asked when he saw Sokka’s grin as he came through the door.

“What? Nothing,” he said, purposefully setting his mouth into a neutral mask. Zuko rolled his eyes and sipped his tea, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What did you do, Sokka?”

“Nothing! What, a guy can’t just be in a good mood?”

“No,” he deadpanned. Sokka scoffed.

“Right, I forgot I was talking to the guy who hasn’t had a good mood in like ten years.”

“Thirteen, actually.” Sokka shot him a look but Zuko’s face was serious. “Just tell me what you did. You’re usually tired and grouchy when you get back in the mornings, not smiling to yourself.”

“Christ, fine,” he huffed, yanking open the fridge to get a water bottle. “I gave a girl my number. The one at the diner.”

Zuko set his tea down and crossed his arms over his chest. “You did what?”

“Look-“

“Are you fucking stupid? With what we do, you’re just out and about giving your number to random women?”

“I’m sorry, we? You just got here, Prince Pouty. I can do what I want.”

“You’re putting everyone at risk, and for what? To get your dick wet?”

“I gave her a burner number for an app on my phone and she doesn’t even know my name. No one’s at risk.”

“You’re being selfish. This is bigger than you.”

“I’m allowed to have a life outside of this bullshit, whether you like it or not.”

“If it’s such bullshit then why do you still do it? No one’s forcing you to stay up all night digging for information and hacking people.”

“I can’t exactly do anything else now, can I? What am I supposed to tell employers I’ve been doing for the last few years, sitting with my thumb up my ass?”

“That is basically what you do, isn’t it?”

Sokka slammed his hands down on the counter angrily. “You can go fuck yourself, Zuko. You have Mai-“

“Mai is for appearances only.”

“-and Aang and Katara are together, and ever since Suki...” Sokka trailed off and then shook his head. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just for your shitty attitude, I’m gonna take her out on a mind blowing date, and bring her back here, and fuck her on your stupid little trundle bed.” Zuko opened his mouth to respond but Sokka cut him off. “Don’t bother. I’m going home and going to bed. Tell Aang and Katara I stopped by,” he grumbled, slamming the door behind him as he left. He felt a little bad about probably waking up his sister and her boyfriend, but Zuko had been grating on his nerves since he got himself tangled up in their business and his misplaced self-righteousness about a little flirting was the last straw. The prick didn’t need to overcompensate for being Ozai’s son by meddling in his love life. He could do without that, thanks.

Sokka was still grumbling to himself as he jiggled the key in the door to his small and slightly dingy studio apartment a few blocks down from Aang and Katara’s. Once he was in, he kicked off his shoes and bag by the door, stripped down to his briefs, and flopped into bed to immediately pass out despite the slats of sunlight filtering in through his ratty blinds. As he fell asleep he couldn’t help but think of you; you and your playful banter and your pretty smile (the real one that made your eyes crinkle, not the fake one you gave to creepy travelers passing through) and your many questions that he had to carefully evade. One day maybe he’d be able to explain himself, even if it would take a while to get to that point. That is, if you gave him a chance in the first place. He couldn’t exactly blame you for turning down someone whose name you didn’t even know.

He just really hoped you wouldn’t.

The next night at the diner was as achingly slow as any other Tuesday. So far only “S” had come in and still he just sat in the corner, drinking his coffee and doing whatever he does. You had texted with him briefly once your shift ended in the morning, but you had to sleep and then get to your other job before your shift at the diner so there wasn’t much time for flirty messages. Instead, you sat at a table nearby to roll silverware, offering small smiles whenever he glanced up and met your eyes. The warmth in your cheeks whenever he smiled back was becoming achingly familiar. You vaguely wondered if your face might as well just get stuck like that.

Finally, someone new came in a few hours after midnight. He wore a ball cap and a large black jacket, hands stuffed in the pockets. You gave your usual spiel in your syrupy-sweet customer voice as you rose from the table to slide behind the counter and prep a cup of coffee for him. As you talked, you noticed he kept glancing around shiftily and had yet to remove his right hand from his jacket. There was something about him that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Sokka had been half-listening to the one-sided exchange when a sharp intake of breath and the sound of shattering glass made his eyes snap to you. You stood frozen behind the counter, hands raised to your shoulders, staring at the men who held a handgun level with your chest. His stomach dropped as he took in the scene, blood running cold when your terrified gaze drifted to him and then shot back to the gun trained on you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to empty the cash drawer for me, if you don’t mind,” he said in an eerily cool, level voice that made your skin crawl. “Don’t try anything, I just want to get the money and get out. I‘d hate to have to hurt you.” You nodded, trying not to let your hands shake, as you shifted over to the register. Out of the corner of your eye you could see “S” subtly reaching for his phone, hopefully to call the police. This also caught the man’s attention and he trained the gun on him now. “Don’t think I don’t see you, pretty boy. Give me your phone.”

“Alright, man. Take it easy,” “S” said as he stood slowly with his hands up, holding his phone in one. He carefully made his way over.

“Here,” you said to distract the man. He looked over at the paper bag you held that looked like it only had a couple hundred dollars in it at most.

“That’s it?” the man barked. “I know you have a safe somewhere, you bitch. Open it and give me the fucking money.”

You stared, wide-eyed, and willed the tears welling up in your eyes to go away. “I- I don’t have a key-“

“Fucking figure it out!” he shouted, making you jump. Sokka felt white-hot anger bubbling in his chest when he saw a tear slide down your cheek as the man unlocked the safety on the gun. Without pausing to think, he leapt the last few feet between himself and the guy to knock the gun away. You screamed and ducked down when a shot fired off, but the man missed widely when his arm was hit and instead blew out one of the panes of glass at the front of the diner. Sokka kicked the gun across the floor and grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket before slamming him against the bar top. While he was winded he yanked his hands behind his back and shoved him to the floor on his stomach, shoving a knee into his kidneys.

“(Y/N), call the police,” Sokka said, trying to keep his voice calm. You peeked over the edge of the counter and then jumped up when you saw the state of the two men.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, um- I’ll do that.” You fumbled with your phone, struggling thanks to how badly your hands shook. You screamed again when Mack burst out from the kitchen wielding a sawed-off shotgun. “Jesus fucking Christ, Mack! Took you fucking long enough to get out here, didn’t it? Poor Stanley had to take care of it!” You gestured angrily to the situation in front of you and Mack rolled his eyes with a huff.

“I was calling the cops, kid. Relax, you’re fine,” he said and you balled your hands up into fists.

“Relax?! I swear to God-“

“(Y/N),” “S” interrupted gently and you whirled around to face him. “It’s under control now. You’re okay.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt or worse and I-“

“But I didn’t. See?” He gestured to himself as Mack secured the man’s hands together with some zip ties from the back office and then to one of the barstools that was bolted to the floor. You didn’t respond to that and instead furiously wiped away the few tears that had tracked down your face.

“After you give the cops your statement, go home for a few days,” Mack said, sitting heavily in a chair that faced the man and holding the shotgun in his lap. You opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you with a hard look. “You’re shaken up, kid; can’t have you working like this. Besides, it’ll take a couple days to get insurance to replace that glass.”

You relented with a sigh and dropped yourself into a booth seat, folding your legs against your torso and resting your forehead on your knees to hide your face. You squeezed your eyes shut and sucked in a few deep, steadying breaths to hopefully push out the panic that still pierced your chest. You tilted your head up when you heard someone sit down across the table from you to see “S” giving you a concerned look. Self-consciously you wrapped your arms around your shins and pulled yourself into a tighter ball.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I know you’re okay, but are you, like... okay?”

You put your head down again and shrugged. “I guess.” You knew it was obvious to him that you weren’t, but you were thankful he didn’t push. Both of you were quiet for a few minutes and you could faintly hear sirens in the distance. All you wanted was to give your statement and go home.

“My name’s Sokka,” he said, finally breaking the silence. He drummed his fingers against the table nervously. You looked up at him again and gave him a small, watery smile.

“That’s a nice name,” you whispered with a sniffle.

Once you gave your statement and the police had taken the guy away in cuffs, you left the diner and were surprised to see Sokka sitting on the curb in front of the doors. He looked around at you when the door opened and he stood.

“You didn’t have to wait,” you said as he dusted off his pants.

“I know. I wanted to,” he said and looked you up and down. “You sure you’re alright? I can sit with you for a bit.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.” You both looked up at the sky in silence. The horizon was starting to fade from the inky black into a rich purple, stars still glinting above your heads. Dawn would be coming soon. Without a word, you walked side-by-side to your cars that were parked next to each other. When you popped your door open he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just gave you a closed-mouth smile and a small wave. You gave him an affirming head nod and slid into the driver’s seat. He waited until you drove away, car disappearing around a corner, before getting into his own.

As you walked up the stairs to your apartment, keys clutched in your hand, your heart was pounding again. Your eyes started to sting and you quickened your pace until you were practically sprinting to your door. After fumbling with the lock for a second you threw yourself inside and slammed the door shut, breath now coming in hard gasps. You slid your back down until you collapsed onto the ground. You curled yourself into a ball again, pressing the heels of your palms harshly against your closed eyes and feeling the tears spilling from them. You were not okay, you were not alright, you were not fine. Not at all.

You could barely see your screen through your tears, but you made the call anyways. It made you feel silly and weak but, God, you were so fucking scared. You just needed someone’s voice to ground you back in reality and he was the first person you thought of.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sokka.” You winced at the way your voice cracked; how it wavered.

Obviously, he noticed. “What’s wrong? Did you make it home okay?” Guilt and regret panged in your chest when you heard how worried he was. You shouldn’t’ve called, you were being stupid.

“Yeah. I-I don’t know why I’m s-so upset but I’m really f-freaked out. It’s st-stupid, I’m sorry for b-bothering you,” you whimpered to the relative stranger on the other end of the line. You screwed your eyes shut and pressed a hand to your chest; you felt like you had been sprinting and you couldn’t catch your breath.

“You’re not bothering me, (Y/N), and it’s not stupid. What happened tonight was fucked up and you’re having a perfectly normal reaction. Just take some deep breaths, okay? You sound like you’re having a panic attack.”

Doing as he said, you tried to even out your breathing to bring your heart rate out of the stratosphere. “Okay, okay. I, um- Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, this might s-sound weird, but... do you think you could, um, come over? I‘ll make you breakfast.”

“Oh, uh-“ he hesitated and despite yourself you started to panic again.

“You d-don’t have to. I-I know you’re probably t-tired. I shouldn’t’ve asked, I just don’t want to b-be alone right now.”

“Hey, hey, stop that. It’s okay, (Y/N). I just don’t want to make you, like, uncomfortable or anything. Strange guy in your apartment, and all,” he chuckled nervously. “Not that I’m... strange, or anything.”

You giggled through your tears. “Oh, you’re strange, alright; but I like that about you. Besides, I know your first name now. We’re practically best friends.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.” He laughed a little and the sound made you feel a bit better. “Just text me your address and I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?” The tenderness in his voice made your damp cheeks warm.

“Okay,” you sniffled. “Sokka?”

“Mhm?” You could hear him rustling around at the other end of the line along with the faint jingling of keys.

“Can you stay on the phone with me?” you asked sheepishly.

“Whatever you need, princess.” The pet name slipped so easily from his lips that he didn’t even notice. You, however, felt your face burn hotter and a twist in your belly. From anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought you were being made fun of, but he said it so earnestly that you just felt warm and tingly, like you were talking with a grade school crush.

“What?”

“Hm?” he hummed distractedly and you cleared your throat.

“You called me princess.”

“Oh, sorry.” You hoped he was blushing as badly as you were. It sounded like he was, if one can sound like they’re blushing. “It’s just... something I call people sometimes. Habit.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Interesting,” he responded. You could hear the suggestive lilt to his voice and it made the corner of your mouth turn up a bit.

You used to think that Sokka was a quiet man. Now, you knew you were wrong and he had always been too heavily focused on his work those many nights at the diner to properly flaunt what a motor mouth he was. He had no trouble sitting on the phone with you while he made his way over to your building, chatting away about... something — many somethings, for that matter. The details weren’t important; all either of you cared about was his almost prodigious ability to keep your mind distracted with idle talk. Despite your state he even made you laugh a few times. You were feeling better by the time he softly knocked on your door, although your legs still felt wobbly and weak when you stood to let him in.

When he saw your puffy, bloodshot eyes and the tear tracks that shone on your cheeks he felt an odd squeezing in his chest that left him a little winded. You had changed into a large faded t-shirt and leggings, your hair loose and falling delicately around your tired face, which had been scrubbed clean of makeup. He realized this was the first time he had ever seen you outside of the context of your work. Even though you surely felt like shit, in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think you still looked adorable. He felt a strong urge to wrap you up in a tight hug, but held off. This was still new territory for you both and he had no idea how you would react to physical affection from someone so new in your life.

You greeted him with a tiny smile and closed the door behind him. He suddenly became acutely aware of how sweaty his palms were now that he was alone with you in your apartment.

“Do you want any coffee or tea or something? Water?” you asked. “I- I started making waffles, if you want one. Or do you want something else to eat? I have-“

“(Y/N), please,” he chuckled. “You clocked out. You don’t have to serve me.”

“I know,” you sighed, twisting a strand of hair around your fingertips. “You came all the way over here, though.”

“It was less than a ten minute drive.”

“Still.” You stared at him expectantly and he rolled his eyes as he sat on your couch.

“Just make me one of whatever you’re drinking. I’m not picky.” You nodded and turned into the kitchen to prepare a second cup of lavender chamomile tea with honey. He accepted it graciously when you handed him the mug with some tourist location stamped on it. He took a sip and was surprised when he actually liked it – he had never much been one for tea. You sat down in the armchair adjacent to the couch and set your mug on the coffee table.

“Thanks, Sokka,” you murmured. He waved his hand dismissively.

“Seriously, (Y/N), it wasn’t any trouble. I’d rather be here and know that you’re okay than sit in bed and worry.”

“Not that. Well, yes; thank you for coming over, but... I was talking about at the diner.”

“What about it?”

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes again and you swallowed thickly. “You saved me. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“I’m sure you would’ve handled it.” His eyebrows shot up when you shook your head aggressively.

“He might’ve shot me before Mack came out if you hadn’t knocked his gun away. And you didn’t even have anything to defend yourself with!”

“I was okay, princess; I’ve trained in fighting in stuff. I had to do something. I couldn’t live with myself if he’d hurt you and I hadn’t at least tried to help.” At this admission, your tears fell freely again and you choked out a sob. Sokka looked panicked and he leaned forwards, fluttering his hands uselessly. “Oh, fuck. Are you okay? Did I say something?”

You shook your head. “No, no. You’re just really sweet and I’m really emotional. And tired.”

“Do you want a hug?” he offered hesitantly. You looked over at him and saw his cheeks had gone pink. With a nod, you stood from your chair and curled up with him on the couch, letting his strong arms wrap around you while you cried into his shoulder. He squeezed you tightly against his chest and said nothing. He just closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head, trying to ignore his own tears that threatened to spill when he felt the way your whole body shook like a leaf.

Even once your sobs subsided to sniffles you made no move to get up. Your very bones felt heavy with exhaustion and the way Sokka held you was warm and comforting. You both eventually fell asleep like that, embracing on your couch, your mugs of tea and the bowl of half-prepared waffle batter on the kitchen counter forgotten for now.

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