#long story short he realized he fucked up again and invited me to dinner for realsies this time

[mxwhore]

mutuals. i am getting caught in my own bitterness again...

#ill vent because this is basically my bedroom #my younger older brother is caught up in that phase of romantic love when nothing else matter but girlfriend #thats fine i guess it happens #the thing is he forgot about my birthday and i was sad. then he remembered that he forgot and called and said #heyyy lemme make it up to you. lets go grab dinner this weekend (last weekend) #he forgot he even said me and went wine tasting with his gf. so now im double sad AND pissed because #i said no to my friends who actually wanted to see me because i was under the assumption that we were going out #so i sent him a passive aggressive message like heyy dinner was great thx for that xd and he was like what dinner?? #long story short he realized he fucked up again and invited me to dinner for realsies this time #but like. he isnt really inviting me? he and my niece were going to a kiddy place he promised he would take her and said i could tag along #i told him i realize now he just invited that to save face and to forget about it #but now im even sadder cuz i love my niece and she is always happy to see me... i just feel like im stupid or something #theyre going tomorrow and im debating on whether i should swallow my pride and go for her #i probably wont #im still not over it #anyway whatever i got work to do

[tripleaxelrose]

3M

She is 22. He is 19. She putters around her apartment, cleaning things that don't need cleaning. She paces. She checks her messages for the 100th time. She watches Taylor Swift videos on YouTube. Finally, late in the afternoon, she puts on her sneakers and goes for a run but ends up sprinting, pushing herself faster until the muscles burn in her legs.

What she really wants to do, in a calmer, alternate version of her body and mind, is get in the car and drive to Laguna Beach and lay out a blanket and watch the surfer boys pad their way to shore in their bare feet, boards under their strong arms, the salt gritty on their shoulders. But the thought of getting the car, of leaving the immediate vicinity and stepping too far away from her TV, makes her want to throw up.

She leaves it on 24/7 during the games, sometimes muted, sometimes turned up very loud. She leaves it on through hours of curling, triathlon, snowboarding. Endless varieties of skiing denoted by the shifting distances of multi-sized flags.

She is afraid she will miss something. An interview with him, with Coach, with someone else she knows. Or one of those minute-long puff-pieces that show skaters in slow-mo, the ice shards spitting off their blades in dramatic overhead lighting, a forceful narration about adversity.

She does all this because they have agreed not to text while he's in Korea. So he can stay focused. But what about me, she wants to ask him. What about my focus? She does not ask him. It is a stupid thing to ask.

He is on the other side of the earth, waiting.

She imagines his Olympic experience. The spartan rooms, uncomfortable beds. Lines at the buffet. The endless sharing of personal space with Adam, who is lovely but never shuts up. The pressure. The girls from all over the world. (She tries hard not to think too much about this. At least the Russian girls are banned, thereby excluding a whole category of pornographic stereotype from the realm of possibility. Again, she pushes this thought away in a hurry. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't. Romain would scold her for even "going there," a new English phrase he has learned and uses ad nauseam.) She imagines and imagines.

Nothing she imagines is accurate.

In Korea, he is simply waiting, simmering, eyes aimed straight ahead, ears plugged with music, moving coherently only from one practice to the next. There is almost nothing in between them and it all passes like a fast-moving fog. In Korea, in the days before his short program, he tenses like a rope twisted to its limit, the strands stretching tighter by the hour. He will tell her all this years later and she will be dumbfounded, half-giggling, begging him to tell stories of all the interesting, exceptionally fit girls with beautiful accents that he fucked and all the amazing kimchi he ate. He will wave her away with one elegant hand - how she loves those hands - and tell her to stop being ridiculous. Didn't she know him by now?

The night of his short program, she politely declines an invitation to watch with a group from the rink. Romain is home in France for a spell. She does not make dinner. She keeps the apartment mostly dark, except for the flickering blue of the TV. She considers, briefly, buying a bottle of wine and drinking the whole thing herself but eventually discards the idea. She wants to remember. Except, as soon as he takes the ice, she realizes all at once that she doesn't.

He looks. Frightened is not quite it. He looks overwound. Too grim. The unease drawing down the corners of his mouth and flickering behind his eyes. She vaguely hears herself shouting at the TV screen as he takes his opening position.

"Smile! You are at the fucking Olympics!"

When he crashes out of his opening jump, she is not even all that surprised. Mercifully, it is over quickly. And, she knows before he even makes it to the Kiss and Cry, it is truly over. He will not make the podium, never mind gold. She weeps, hands over her mouth, kneeling too close to the TV, her sad non-prayer to the nonexistent figure skating gods that they were all endlessly conjuring.

The text messages fly. Between her and everyone but the one person whose name she wants to see lighting up her phone screen. She shuts off the TV. She paces again, this time in the dark. Eventually, she tries to put herself to bed. She stares at the ceiling, an arm thrown over her forehead.

She picks up her phone.

Hey. I'm sorry I'm breaking our rule. Please don't feel like you have to answer. I just wanted to tell you that I am always proud of you.

Hours later, she is awoken by the vibration of her phone on the dresser. There are no words. A single red heart emoji. A dispatch from a place where it is already tomorrow. She falls back into a restless sleep and has weird dreams.

The next morning, she wakes up late, feels strangely OK. The light in her bedroom moves slantways across the sheets and she watches it, breathing, listening to the silence. Today is different, she feels it.

She does not obsessively check her phone. She showers, makes herself a cup of tea, sits in the kitchen with the TV off, chats with her mom on the phone and they manage to talk about things other than him. It is a warm day. She shuts off the AC and opens the windows.

When he steps on the ice the second time, he is still not smiling.

"He shouldn't have cut his hair," she murmurs to no one. She has gotten the bottle of wine today, is halfway through her second glass by the time his music starts.

She smiles as he glides forward. Because she knows what is about to happen. As he hits them, all of those quads, she counts them out loud. One... two... three... four... five... and six. The crowd in Korea roars, but she just laughs. Because she's a little drunk, but also because she knows him.

He wins the free program. He fucking wins it. (She may have shouted this out loud a few times.) It is not nearly enough to put him on the podium, but it doesn't matter.

(She will tell him later, "You know, you didn't have to actually win the damn thing."

And he will smile, the mischief gathering at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah I did.")

He will go home medalless and worse, with the baggage of the story. That he missed the podium when he was so heavily favored. That he choked. But she will remember that free skate, always. She will remember his outsize, fighting champion's heart. She will remind him when he forgets.

And of course, he forgets almost immediately.

Less than a week later, she walks into a room at the rink and there he is, lacing up his skates. He's home early. The games are not even over. Surely, his jet lag is not over either but he looks like his usual self, getting ready to take the ice for his regular practice.

"Holy shit," she says. She cannot move.

He says nothing, but stands, tall in his skates, before striding over to her and putting his arms around her. She is struck by how strong he feels, as though he could crush her. All that weight training to prevent injury, to power him through his jumps. All that work.

"Are you..."

"I'm fine," he says with a grin that does not reassure her. He inhales, holds her at arm's length. "I wanted you to know first. I'm going to college."

She and Romain get engaged three weeks later.

#mariah bell #nathan chen #figure skating #my fic

[buckyownsmylife]

Young and Beautiful - Steve Rogers smut

The one where you were supposed to be a one-night stand, but Steve won't let that happen

Warnings: smut, and a little bit of angst.

A/N: this was our first ever patreon-voted fic, chosen for the month of May! My patreons at the $3 tier get to send me their ideas once a month and two of them end up being voted so I can write one of them each month. June’s fic is the one where Ransom needs to get a sugar mommy, and if you want to suggest a story for our July’s fic, please consider becoming a patreon! Thank you to my darling @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for reading this over for me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first time wasn’t a mistake, I could admit to that. Steve had been coming to the same bar where I worked for almost a year now. I knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew - he was hard to miss. But I think what he liked about our run-down place is that no one seemed to care about Captain America and the things he did when he didn’t have a bottle of beer in his hand.

Over here, he was just Steve. And Steve tipped well and drank a lot - I was sure he couldn’t get drunk, no matter how many beers I served him, but he never stopped asking me for more.

So, needless to say, he was adored. Adored by my boss, who was always around to keep watch of his customers and keep them in line. Adored by Luke, who guarded the entrance, for all the nights Steve helped him get rid of men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. And adored by all the waitresses, for precisely the same reason - and because I always shared my tips with all of them.

Even the kitchen staff adored Steve. Besides, it’s not like he was hard on the eye - all the girls (customers and staff) were constantly fawning over him, but he was nothing short of a gentleman, always.

Actually, he seemed to avoid the members of the opposite sex as best as he could, clearly not interested in whatever it was that they planned to possibly get to do with him. Well, except for me.

He never avoided me. I always figured it was because I was the guardian of the alcohol - we’d even joke about it sometimes, when he came to sit by the bar after politely declining someone’s advances.

“It’s just hard to understand how to date nowadays,” he commented one day after a pretty girl actually asked him out on a date right in front of me, but he refused. I shrugged as I wiped the counter, thinking if there was any advice I could give him.

“It really isn’t that hard. You go out to dinner, walk her home and when you step in front of her door, you ask her for some coffee. She’ll usually do it herself, but if you want to show your interest…” His frown was amusing, to say the least, but I held back my laughter so he wouldn’t be even more uncomfortable.

“A coffee?” Giggling, I nodded. “Before bed? But…”

“It’s a metaphor, Steve. A lady can’t very well invite you into her sheets, now can she?” He blushed three different shades of red when I winked, another giggle escaping. “I mean, she can, but we like to keep some things unsaid - innuendos can be very sexy.”

Two months had passed and if Steve made use of my lessons, I wouldn’t know. He never brought anyone to the bar and never left with any lady who approached him either.

“What can I get ya, Steve?” I’d always ask. I’d never once called him Cap or anything other than the name he used to introduce himself - even though I obviously knew who he was. He always took his time before answering my questions, even if they required a simple yes or no, which amused me to no end.

For a while, I actually believed a gun or one of the buildings the Hulk had undoubtedly thrown in his direction had left him with a difficulty of hearing. But then after my first question, he never seemed to have any problem understanding me at all.

“Just a beer,” he’d say, a small, soft smile as he tried not to stare too much at me, fingers tapping on the counter while I got his order. I appreciated his effort not to make me uncomfortable - I knew he’d seen how often men did that to me. I had no doubt that was why he only ever looked me in the eye from under those huge eyelashes of his.

“There you go.” Always the same routine, we never once deviated from it. Until one night when I was supposed to close the bar and he heard my boss instructing me to be careful.

“There’s been a lot of robberies this late at night. Make sure you lock everything up properly.” I saluted in jest, making the old man laugh and shake his head at me. “See you tomorrow, kid.”

There were only a handful of customers - Steve included, and he was the only one by the bar, so I threw him a quick smile as I wiped the glasses and started to clean the counter.

“Can I get you anything else?” I offered, but he only grimaced in response, leaving me confused. “Is there something wrong?” He stared directly at me without answering for a while before he was able to snap out of whatever it was that had frozen him.

“You’re supposed to leave by yourself at two in the morning?” I chuckled lightly at his concern, avoiding his gaze so he wouldn’t see how it warmed my heart that he’d be preoccupied over me, someone that was a little more than a stranger to him.

“It’s part of the job,” I reassured him. “Well, usually it’s part of Luke’s job. But whenever he has to leave early, it’s my duty to fill in for him.” He nodded, but didn’t make any movement towards leaving. Usually, he would be gone by now, but it wasn’t that extraordinary for him to stay until the hour I left.

This was the first time he stayed this long though, considering I wasn’t the one responsible for closing the bar and I only realized it when I looked around and noticed we were the last two people left in the room.

“Planning on drinking much more?” I joked, trying to gauge if he was going to be much longer, but he seemed startled by my question, looking around to verify the same thing I’d just noticed.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” I smiled, thankful that he was conscious and wouldn’t force me to stay even longer after my shift had finished. “I just figured I could walk you home. It is pretty late, after all.”

My heart warmed up at how sweet and thoughtful this man was. He had no reason to wait for me to finish my job just to walk me home, yet here he was. “Thank you, Steve,” I acknowledged, sending him a grateful grin. “Let me just check the bathrooms real quick. I’ll grab my purse and we can leave.”

He nodded, watching me do as I said and in no time at all we took off together in the direction of my apartment. I wasn’t worried about making small talk with him on the way there - I knew he was a good conversationalist from all the times he had stayed by the bar instead of taking his beer to a table, and I adored the stories he told of his missions just as much as I appreciated how he genuinely cared about what I had to say.

The walk to my place seemed shorter than ever before, and in a few minutes we were standing in front of my door as I searched for my keys in my bag.

“C-Can I…” He murmured as I looked for it, glancing up at him and smiling to signal he should continue even though I couldn’t give him my full attention at that moment. “Would you… Do you have some coffee?”

I was so shocked that my head whipped up to stare at him, eyes wide and unbelieving. Did Steve… Did he… Did he want to have sex with me? “I mean… in your apartment, do you have some coffee in your apartment?”

The thought was so extraordinary that the second I realized his intentions, a fire of desire warmed my lower belly, not because he was Captain America, but because he was an attractive and sweet guy that was way out of my league and I couldn’t believe he was into me.

He kept talking as I kept blinking at him, trying to process what was going on. “’Cause I’d really like to have some coffee… with you… If you want some too…”

His voice got smaller the longer it took for me to answer him, until it disappeared completely and he cleared his throat. “Nevermind.” He was about to turn around and make a run for it, I was sure, but I was able to grasp his wrist just in time, signalling him to stop because I had something to say.

“I would love to make you some coffee, Steve.”

So yeah, the first time wasn’t a mistake. He was way too fucking sweet and I got hot just by seeing how nervous he was to ask me for some “coffee”, incredulous that I was capable of affecting this giant man that much.

So as soon as we were in my apartment, I tied up my hair with the little hair tie I always kept on my wrist during work and got on my knees for him.

And I cherished every fucking second of it.

The way his mouth fell open in a gasp when I reached for his jeans, the little moans he let out as I licked his member… I couldn’t close my eyes, too transfixed by his expressions to miss anything.

The way he pulled me by my hair to devour my mouth, hands so eager to undress me that he ended up ripping my blouse, but it only made me giggle.

The way his groan sounded almost painful when he picked me up, shoved me against the door and penetrated me, filling me so beautifully I hit my head back against the wood and didn’t even notice it.

He got me to cum without almost no preparation, just from the thrill of it all, the stretch of his member inside of me. When I urged him to cum in my pussy, the look on his eyes was enough to get me to cum again, milking him dry as he emptied himself with a growl, forehead dropping against mine while he tried to catch his breath.

I was expecting him to leave immediately or maybe stay for an actual coffee. I wasn’t expecting him to pull out, drop to his knees and start lapping his cum from inside of me, eyes as focused on mine as I had been for him only minutes before.

Burying my fingers in his short locks, I tried to keep myself up despite the way my legs trembled, but Steve just adjusted them so they’d be over his shoulders and held me up with his face buried in me.

I had never cum so many times in a row. But then again, I had never had a man eat his own cum out of me.

I fully intended it to be a one time thing, and that was my plan. I thanked him for eating me out, made him some coffee, giggled at his stories about his friends and for a second it almost looked like we were back at the bar, only the counter was my kitchen table and I was allowed to sit on the other side.

He didn’t ask to stay the evening and I breathed a sigh of relief after I closed the door behind him, ignoring the slight empty feeling that momentarily hit me. This is what I wanted, I reminded myself, and by acting the way I expected him to, he had made it clear that he understood the rules of the dating world he claimed to know so little of.

This was a one time deal. Nothing more.

But then the first night we saw each other at the bar again, it was when he burst through the door to punch some guy who came in just as I was closing, trying to steal the money we had in the vault. I was so fucking relieved to see his face that all I could do was tremble in his arms after the police came to get the robber, and of course I couldn’t let him go after that.

He walked me home and I didn’t even ask anything, just stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips, using my grip on his shirt to pull him in as he helped me with my clothes.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” He moaned, and perhaps that should have been my first sign, the one that alerted me to stop what I was doing and not make this into a mistake I couldn’t take back.

He hadn’t talked the last time. He had never complimented me before.

“God, your ass…” He groaned as he palmed it, helping me over his lap when he took a seat on my couch, until I could fuse the both of us and ride us to hysteria.

But I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind because it felt so fucking good to be desired by him, to have him inside of me, cumming deep into my pussy only to eat it all out of me again.

It didn’t take long for me to learn about the errors of my way, though. In fact, it started the very next day, when he walked into the bar grinning from ear to ear and made a beeline in my direction.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and my eyes went wide as two saucers, especially when I saw him lean over the counter like he intended to peck my lips.

“Hello, Captain.” I quickly turned my back to him, facing the shelves of liquor to pretend that I was looking for something. My heart sank to my stomach as I took in what was happening, what I had just done in my effort to put some distance between us as if last night had never happened. “Can I get you anything?”

The time it took for him to answer almost had me looking at him from over my shoulder, but I restrained myself. “Yeah, you,” he finally said, and I breathed out in surprise. “Why are you acting this way?”

I panicked for a few seconds, reaching up for an already clean glass to attack it with my rag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried to reassure the both of us, still incapable of looking him in the eye.

But I could see his massive body by the end of the counter from the corner of my eyes, where he always sat, and I saw him tap the old battered wood with his fingers - fingers he had used to spread me open for his tongue to reach - as he thought.

I hoped he would let it go. I hoped he would not.

“Fine,” he relented, and I froze, uncertain of what he meant. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” My head snapped up just in time to watch him leave, and he didn’t even look over his shoulder.

I tried to tell myself it was for the best. He needed some time to get over whatever the hell it was that he thought he was feeling and tomorrow things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

He came back with flowers the next day, and I didn’t have any reasonable excuse not to accept it. He didn’t push for anything, just gave me the bouquet before asking for his usual drink. And then he proceeded to stay the entire evening right there, where he always sat, carefully watching my every move.

For the first time in a while, I broke two glasses in a single evening.

The day after that, he came with a box of chocolates. I couldn’t hide the smile because they were my favorite - I didn’t know how he knew it until he reminded me.

“You told me you liked them right when I started coming to this place.” His eyes were so heavy with a sad feeling that I couldn’t recognize that I had to avert my gaze. It messed with my heartbeat, it left my throat feeling dry.

“Thanks, Captain,” I softly acknowledged it, and I saw the way his grip on the box tightened. I saw it in the way it was slightly crumpled when I took it from his hands, but he didn’t say a word.

There was only so much that he could take, though. And I knew that. It didn’t help that my boss had caught onto his intentions and started to push me to go out on a date with him.

“Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance?” He’d incite, much to Steve’s utter glee.

“Yeah, Y/N. Why don’t you go out with me?” Steve urged, and although he never asked when my boss wasn’t around to initiate the teasing, I knew he wondered.

And the truth was that I wondered about it too. Because everything was screwed up now. When I gave him his beer and our fingers brushed, mine were left tingling. When I looked his way to find his gaze already on me, I shivered.

So yes, the second time was undeniably a mistake, but there wouldn’t be a third time. I’d make sure of it.

Steve’s P.O.V.

I was tired of waiting. I knew I had wanted her since the first time I laid my eyes on her, when I decided to stop at this rundown bar in the hopes of one night of crappy beer without being bothered by anyone asking for autographs or pictures.

I’d come here almost every night when I could escape the tower to watch her work, slowly getting her to warm up to me, and I fell for her personality in the process.

The way she clearly saw me as Steve, and not my title.

The way she always laughed at my stories and shared what had happened in the previous nights with the raucous customers.

The way she seemed to care about everyone and everything that came into contact with her.

So what started as desire became something deeper and for the first time since I was unfrozen, I found myself eager to understand what dating in this new century was like. I asked Sam for advice, and even Tony for any tips he could give me, but their general ideas didn’t matter to me when all I wanted was one single person.

Her.

So I asked her for her thoughts on the matter and was surprised with myself when I put them into practice. I was even more surprised when she accepted my advances and welcomed me into her embrace.

I was sure I’d never been happier than that evening.

But to have her pretend nothing had happened and even worse - treat me like a stranger after I had learned the taste of her skin? Nothing hurt deeper than that.

And still, I understood. I realized then that she hadn’t seen the situation the way that I had. She had thought all I wanted was a one-night deal - well, two-night deal - because I had never shown her anything to make her think differently.

So I set out to do just that. My way this time. And I was just about ready to ask her on a proper date when I was forced away for a whole damn month, having to resort to my hand and my memories of her body to get through the cold nights on the field.

The second I was back in the city, I only had one thing in mind. To get what I wanted, in whatever way she would let me.

“Can we talk?” My voice sounded clipped to my own ears, and maybe that’s why her mouth opened in surprise - or maybe it was seeing me at the bar so early, when there was barely anyone around, after being absent for so long.

“Sure,” she finally accepted, shrugging like it was no big deal, but I knew better than that. She might not know it, but I could read her perfectly, and I knew she was hiding her true feelings even to herself. I knew those feelings were deeper than she had ever felt. I knew they made her scared.

“Not here.” She stopped cleaning glasses then, frozen for a second before she looked around, taking in the fact that no one else was going to need her for a while. There was nowhere to run and maybe I was a jerk for doing this during her work hours, but I was a desperate jerk and I couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Okay.” She sounded small, and I knew what she was expecting to get out of this conversation. Closure, in one way or another. For me to finally let go of her. But I wouldn’t.

I wanted her too damn bad to let her escape like that.

“Go out with me.” I asked the second that the office door was closed behind us, and she immediately started shaking her head. “Yes, please,” I insisted. “Let me show you that I want more from you. I want so much more.”

“I can’t give you more,” was her answer, and she still avoided my eyes as she spoke. “One night, you even had two. That’s all I can give you. Please don’t ask me for anything more.”

“Why?” I asked, and the frustration in my voice was enough to get her to meet my eyes for the first time that evening. “Why are you trying to avoid this? I know you want me, Y/N. You wouldn’t have slept with me if you didn’t. So just tell me why.”

“I can’t,” she insisted, moving towards the door, but I grasped her hand to stop her before she could slip through it - much like she had done that first night, when I thought I’d screwed up any chance I had to ever be with her.

“Tell me why you’re holding yourself back from me,” I ordered, anger and desire creating an explosive cocktail inside of me, making my voice hoarse. I saw her shiver. I watched her break.

“Because it was too fucking good and I swear to God, if you get your mouth on me again, I’m gonna marry you.” Our expressions mirrored one another, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. She couldn’t believe she had let out her feelings like this. I couldn’t believe there was all there was to it.

I dropped to my knees before her.

“Come here.” I shoved her jeans all the way down to her ankles, sending the button flying somewhere. I couldn’t tell where and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to show her that there was nothing wrong with wanting this, with wanting me because as long as she allowed me to, I’d give anything to be with her.

My tongue was so hungry to taste her sweetness again. I licked a stripe between her lower lips before I could even get my hand there, spreading her with my fingers for easier access.

God, she was heavenly. I watched her let her head fall back against the door, much like the first time I was able to be in this position, and my heartbeat fluttered at the realization that this time, I was much closer to getting what I really wanted from her.

“I’ve been terrified of my own feelings for long enough,” I decided to confess, parting from her clit to be able to speak but slipping two digits inside her hole, filling her up, preparing her to welcome me. “I can wait for you to come to terms with yours. But I can’t keep myself away,” I warned, quickening my movements as I chased away the taste of her in my tongue. “So don’t ask that of me.”

Her moan had my eyes sparkling with excitement. I lowered my head to suck her button, see the way it made her thighs tremble on each side of my face.

“So fucking sexy,” I moaned against her cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Drench my face.” Her little cry of ecstasy denounced she was about to do just that, so I twirled my tongue around her clit, rubbing my digits against her sweet spot as her body tensed under my ministrations.

“There you go…” I whispered, fascinated with the way she looked after her release. It was like she glowed from the inside, muscles relaxing to accept my caresses when I finished cleaning her with my tongue and rose to my full height.

“Next time you try to pretend something between us didn’t happen, I’m gonna bend you over the counter and spank your ass in front of all of the other patrons,” I warned her before nibbling her earlobe. “Go out with me,” I tried again, and she took a deep breath before answering, looking up at me from under her eyelashes.

“Okay.”

#my fics #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #smut #patreon one-shot #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers reader inserts #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one-shot

[sugako]

after dinner special

bokuto x f!reader x hinata sum: after seeing the way his teammate looks at you, bokuto comes up with a plan to help all parties cw: 18+ only minors dni i am begging you, established relationship (bokuto x reader), slight manipulation (?? reader/bo make a secret plan to seduce hinata and he wants to so not really but idk what else to tag it as), oral (f!receiving), double pussyjob, nipple play, orgasm denial, D/s, spit roast, unprotected, hinabo if you squint extra hard wc: 4.2k a/n: finally back from the dead with this wayyy overdue fic ive been thinking about/writing for months, no edits or beta bc i'm too impatient and haven't posted in so long

Above all else, Bokuto was incredibly perceptive to other’s emotions. Among other aspects, that quality had really drawn you to him even if it wasn’t as extraordinarily overt as his confidence and enthusiasm. His perceptiveness didn’t end with you, of course, he was well-connected with his teammates, which meant when he saw the way Hinata’s eyes just barely glazed over when he met you he knew there was something more happening in his head. He watched the burning grow in Hinata after he had witnessed the two of you had, quite obviously, snuck off to another room during a get-together at Meian’s, spit still drying at the corner of your dry, puffy lips a week prior.

Even he wasn’t sure what exactly his plan was as he started up in the locker room a couple weeks later, oversharing every little detail he could recall about your body, namely when it was under him. Ignoring Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s groans for him to stop while Shugo and Oliver snickered to themselves reminiscing about their own escapades from a handful of years ago, he focused on Hinata’s reaction.

Shōyō remained uncharacteristically quiet as he rambled on about how cute your soft tits were, only speaking to quietly excuse himself to the bathroom. He was careful, but not careful enough to hide the tent in his shorts.

Not one to keep a secret, the words came tumbling from his mouth when he burst into your shared apartment.

“I think Hinata likes you!” He managed, tearing off his shoes to stumble into the hallway to wrap you in a tight hug like he did nearly every day.

“I-...what?” You choke, wrapping a tentative arm back around him and peeling away to look at him in the eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Not like… I don’t know, I think he wants to fuck you.” The smile on his face doesn’t waver, only confusing you.

“I’m not sure how to take this.” You deadpan, brows just short of knitting together. “Why…?”

“Well if you would like that I certainly wouldn’t mind.” His teeth graze over your skin as he pecks messy kisses all over your cheeks and neck.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You blankly repeat back, holding his back by his muscled shoulders to make him look you in the eyes. “Because not minding something and wanting something are very different and I just want to make sure whatever we’re about to talk about we’re just being really clear.”

Bokuto inhaled a massive breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he collected exactly what he wanted to say to you. Before he could, the smell coming from the kitchen distracted his senses, leaving him to weakly exhale and blink his eyes open. “Talk over dinner?”

The long talk over the dinner table was eventually fruitful. After he collected himself and stuffed his rumbling stomach, Bokuto was better able to explain what he had seen in Hinata. It made you recall every time you had seen him and you would be lying if you said you didn’t see it too. He wasn’t exactly a subtle person.

When it came down to it, you certainly weren’t opposed. Bokuto certainly seemed interested in the prospect of sharing you, especially with his favorite prodigy as he liked to class him. You recognized that Hinata was attractive and you had to admit that the concept of being squished between the two thick, bubbly men was alluring as long as he was truly interested.

Before the full invitation to come over for dinner - specially prepared by you - had even slipped from Bokuto’s mouth, Hinata was eagerly accepting. Part of you dreaded the entire ordeal, anxieties bubbling up about the lead up and the talking beforehand that you had foolishly agreed to do most of. Over dinner you stayed a little quieter than usual, trying to gauge Hinata’s expression and body language.

When he politely excuses himself to use the restroom after finishing, Bokuto grabs your hand across the table, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles.

“If you’re nervous we can stop right here.” He whispers, grinning softly.

You can’t help but smile back, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay,” you assure him, “I am a little nervous, but I really want to.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by the sound of the bathroom door closing and the soft pad of Hinata’s feet down the hallway. Clearing your throat, you give a reassuring smile to Bokuto, and stand to face where Hinata soon pops out of.

“Hinata, would you-”

“Shōyō is fine!” He interjects. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s fine,” you smile, ghosting your hand down his arm and resting your palm against his elbow. “Shōyō, would you mind helping me wash up in the kitchen. I feel bad asking the guest, but Kōtarō has something for you and you’ll get to it faster if I finish this.”

Hinata can feel his heart pounding behind his rib cage so hard he worries you can hear his pulse reverberating. You look so sweet with those pleading eyes staring at him, the warm touch of your fingertips sending heat to his chest.

“Of course, I don’t mind.” He nods, letting you lead him a room away to the kitchen.

“Great, thank you, this is such a big help.” You grin while placing the dirty dishes in the sink before you and handing him a dry towel. “You can just dry and put them in the cabinet in front of you.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, eyeing down your low-cut shirt as you squeeze your arms together and lean down to grab the first bowl. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you turn the tap on a little too fast and water splashes all over the front of your thin, pale dress, making the black lacy bra underneath pop.

“Whoops!” You exclaim, smiling a little too happily, feeling how his feet shift beside you. “This tap is a little loose, I always get messy and wet trying to do anything.”

He has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning, glad that your gaze is in the sink and not on his flushed face. He doesn’t want to feel this way about his friend’s girlfriend, but it’s so hard when you’re standing so close - did you take a step toward him? when did your hip start brushing against his? - and you look so pretty.

“So, Shōyō…” you start, handing him another dish, “Kōtarō talks about you a lot, you know.”

“Really?” His voice is pitched and strained, stopping short of choking on his own words.

“Yeah, he thinks you’re great. He was so excited when you joined the team. He, uh, he pays attention, a lot more than some people give him credit for.”

Hinata nods, carefully placing the bowl in the cupboard. “He’s great, I’ve always loved watching him play.”

“He’s fun to watch,” you agree, “You know he thinks….actually, can I just ask what your type is?” The words tumble out quickly as you try to gain confidence, a small bit of worry creeping into the back of your head.

“My type?” He repeats back, pausing in his drying motions. “I don’t know if I really have one. Just anyone I feel good with. Why?” When he turns to look at you again you’re turned to face him, a small smile lighting up your features.

“That’s a good way to look at things. I only ask because, well Kōtarō seems to think you have some kind of interest in me.” You force the words to come out casually, keeping your eyes on him. Hinata sputters and chokes on his own words, the way your hand comes down over his doing absolutely nothing to help him compose himself. “There’s no good way to say this, but he was thinking you could, uh well take what you’ve been thinking about, if you want to.”

Taking a deep swallow, he took a short deep breath to clear his mind. “And what do you think?”

Tension dissipates from your body at his question. “I think I would like you to do whatever you want. Touch me, kiss me, anything. Only if you want to.”

His fists clench and unclench again, gears turning in his head as he realizes this was planned. All those stories Bokuto told, the glint in his eyes for the past few weeks, the way you put yourself on display for him all night with that sly little smirk - it was all part of some plan. A little worried voice in the back of his head told him this was too good to be true. But you were offering yourself up to him, angled forward so your tits would pop and watching him so carefully as though he were a scared animal ready to run, and he knew it had to be true.

The timid, apprehensive look he had been sporting slowly drained from his face, replaced with a much more confident and delighted one. His hands moved from his sides to dig into your waist, lifting you up onto the counter behind you.

“Don’t tease me.” He whispers hoarsely, lips ghosting over the pulse of your throat. The loose dress Bokuto had purposefully picked out for you to wear for the evening rode up as Hinata settled his thick body between your welcoming knees.

“I’m not,” you pant, “Kōtarō really wanted this.”

A shuddered sigh comes from his chest as he rests his head against your shoulder, just barely kissing the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. You fidget restlessly, trying to pull his still body closer to no avail.

“Wanna know he wants this.” He says eventually. “I trust you, I just…”

“No, no, I get it.” You say a little too abruptly, fishing around for where your phone was tossed onto the counter. With shaky hands you hurried to click it open, immediately going to your messages, scrolling to the most recent chat with Bokuto where he depicted how much he wanted to see you fucked out on his and Hinata’s cocks in vivid detail. You push the phone into his hand. “You can scroll wherever, he mentioned it before that one’s just… yeah.”

“Oh, wow.” He breathes, glancing through a few other messages from earlier in the week. Gently, he sets the phone down beside you before pulling your hips to the edge of the counter. His lips collide with the base of your throat knocking the air right from you.

You wind your fingers up in his hair as he pressed harsh kisses straight down your front, his rough hands pushing the skirt of your dress up even higher, leaving the tops of your thighs completely exposed. He keeps journeying lower until his cheek is flush to the hem of your panties. When his nose presses up against the slowly growing damp patch leaking his shoulders heave as though to hold himself back.

“And he doesn’t want us to wait up…?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know completely. Bokuto had asked to make some kind of subtle move on Hinata in private, he figured it would be less stressful for the both of you, but he hadn’t said how far to go with him, and you weren’t really sure what he was doing in some other part of the house, and Hinata’s fingers were so hot against your skin…

“No, it’s fine.” You pant, desperation evident in your voice. He doesn’t need much more, hand moving to pull the stretchy fabric you had purposefully worn to the side, his wide tongue darting out to lap up the wetness seeping from you.

With an aching whine, you lean into his touch, massaging his head and bringing him closer to you with every burning second that passes. Not that you had expected him to be inexperienced by any means, but you hadn’t expected him to be so good. He was loud, moaning against your cunt as he buried his tongue inside of you, nose tapping against your pleading clit.

The sound of your breathy whimpers and the loud slurping squelches drowned out the steps coming down the hall or the kitchen door swinging open. Bokuto stood there for a moment with a small smile, admiring how pretty you looked like this, even if he wished it were him, but he couldn’t let the moment pass him by.

“Puppy,” he sighed. The first syllable was enough to make Hinata pop off of you and stumble back to turn around, eyes hazy and drunken of the taste of you. Ignoring the hardened look in Bokuto’s eyes, you pouted sweetly, spreading your legs a little more to let him see your soiled panties.

“Kōtar-”

“You’re being greedy, don’t you think, puppy? Going ahead without me like that.” He imitates you with a fake pout, the look never quite meeting his blazing eyes. You can feel what’s coming and make no more attempt to argue. Hinata is taking in the interaction, still halfway in his own daze. “She’s great, huh, Shōyō? Pretty little pussy and she makes the best noises, especially when she’s crying for your cock.”

Hinata swallows hard, absentmindedly palming over his pants where he’s quickly grown half-hard. “Yeah, she’s, yeah no, uh she’s really great. This is still okay?”

Both of you nod quickly, reassuring him, but you remain silent for now, trying to settle before you know what’s to come.

“Totally okay as long as you’re okay.” Bokuto drops the edge in his tone to carefully watch him for a moment, assessing.

“Completely.” He agrees with a dreamy sigh.

Nodding again, Bokuto approaches the two of you. Refusing to meet his eyes you stare just ahead at the door.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, puppy, you know you’ll get what you want in the end anyway.” He jabs as he scoops you over his shoulder and gives you a gentle pat on the back of your thighs. “Let’s at least go to the living room.”

You glance back at Hinata, mouthing a silent whoops, while Bokuto leads him around the corner. Bokuto plops into the corner of the couch, back propped up by the plush arm, and maneuvering your pliable body to sit comfortably in his lap with your back pulled up flush to his chest. You’re gently pushed forward so he can peel the dress off and unclasp your bra. He’s calm for now, at least on the outside, but you can feel his heart pounding through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t need these anymore,” he hums, latching his fingers in the sides of your underwear and motioning for you to lift your hips to let him slide them off. Hooking his elbows under your knees, he pulls your thighs to your chest, high enough so that he can palm your breasts. Quietly whining, you turn your head away so you don’t have to look directly up at Hinata - not that he’d notice your face with the way your cunt was glistening under the low, soft lights of the room. “Shh,” he directs at you before glancing back up at Hinata, “go ahead, but don’t let her cum.”

With a warm grin he gets on his knees between Bokuto’s spread legs. You almost felt too exposed, all power taken from your hands, splayed open like this. Bokuto slots his chin against your shoulder and presses the softest kiss to your cheek in stark contrast to the way his rough hands are kneading and pinching your sensitive breasts.

Hinata eagerly gets back to it, lavishing your cunt with softer licks than before, making your hips shake as they seek out more friction. While your neediness grows so too does Bokuto’s grip on you.

“So pretty,” he coos, eyes glued to where Hinata was firmly pressed against you. Pride bloomed in his chest at the sight of his teammate sloppily eating out his favorite girl so enthusiastically, appreciating you so much as he should.

It’s impossible for him to not get rock hard with the way you’re grinding down into his lap and the crude, wet sounds and groans vibrating from the back of Hinata’s throat.

“Taste so good.” Hinata grumbles, pulling back and forcing his tense hips to stop rutting into the couch cushion. He feels himself making a mess in his pants, hoping that he isn’t leaking through to your nice furniture, but he can’t quite bring himself to stop either. Both Bokuto and you watch the string - you’re not sure whether it’s his spit or your own wetness - that stays connected between your slit and his puffy, glossy lips.

“Good...good job.” Bokuto sighs. You’re not sure if he’s praising you or Hinata, but you don’t have much time to think too hard about it before he releases your legs and wedges his hands under between himself and you to pull his straining cock from his pants. Mind buzzing, still a little hazy from the feeling of Hinata’s tongue, you grab out from him, pulling on the band of his pants. Truthfully, he’s not quite sure what you’re asking for but he does know how tight his balls are and how inviting your cunt looks.

Just as Bokuto is settling his cock between your ass, Hinata’s pants are slipped off, thrown to the ground. He dips his head down to take one of your breasts into his mouth, moaning around you and pressing in close so his tip catches against your clit. At your whiny cry and keening, Bokuto lets out a low, single chuckle. “Don’t let her have your cock, not all the way. You were being so greedy earlier puppy, I don’t think you deserve it yet.”

Hinata keeps his mouth firmly planted on your chest and reaches down to perfectly slip himself between the top of your folds, acutely aware of Bokuto’s heavy head just barely bumping against the base of his own cock. They’re both so thick and heavy as they rabidly hump against you, Bokuto maneuvering your body for you back and forth across both of them. Everything is warm and wet between Hinata’s mouth on your chest and Bokuto’s lips kissing down the side of your neck.

The tease of release that’s been creeping up on you for so long draws closer and closer. Hinata’s cock is catching so exactly on your swollen clit and Bokuto’s tip keeps threatening to slip past your entrance, slick dripping past your thighs.

“Gonna, ahg, cu-cum!” You manage out, hips already bouncing on their own accord against them.

“Go ahead.” Bokuto says with a shaky breath, squeezing you as tight as he could between his body and Hinata’s. One more roll of their hips has you crashing down, pleasure rolling through your body. All you can feel is warmth and overwhelming satisfaction as you twitch between their arms, creaming across their cocks. “Good girl, good girl…” you faintly hear Bokuto coo into your ear as you slump back against him.

The buzzing, quiet moment is quickly squashed as he hoists you out of his lap and onto all fours. He’s talking to Hinata and you know you should be listening, but your pussy is still throbbing and you’re trying to catch your breath.

“...okay, baby?” You catch the very end of his sentence and blink hard, desperate to refocus.

“W-wait, what? Sorry, I just-”

“It’s okay, puppy,” he rubs a soothing hand down your back, slowly bringing you back to reality. “Need a second?”

You shake your head, the last of the fog slipping away. Before you, you see Hinata, his rigid cock slicked up by you only a few inches from your face. “I’m okay now, can you just say that again?”

“‘Course,” he grins, teasing your entrance, “I said I’m going to take your pretty pussy from back here and Shōyō is going to use your mouth. If you want.”

Wiggling your hips back to meet his and craning your neck up to look at Hinata you give a deft nod.

“I do, I want that.” You sigh.

Trembling with excitement, already so riled up from feeling you cum against him, Hinata shuffles the last bit forward. He’s pretty and much thicker than you had imagined. The tight strain of scattered veins and his heavy balls tell you all you need to know about how pent up he obviously is. Reaching out with palms still a bit shaky, you helped to reel him in the rest of the way with welcoming, parted lips.

You wrapped your fingers tightly around where you couldn’t quite reach, sloppily taking more and more of him with each bob of your head. His salty precum meshed with what was leftover of your own mess, the taste making you moan around his length.

Bokuto was trying to move slower now, recognizing that you were easily slipping, but the way you rocked your body back and forth bumping against his sensitive, reddened tip, he couldn’t hold back much more. Digging his fingers into your hip, he eased the motions of your body, lining himself up, resisting from plowing into you at full force.

“Ready?” He asks, nearly whining. At the sound of his voice, you pull off from Hinata, letting your quickly tiring jaw grow slack.

“Uh-huh.” You barely heave out before wrapping your lips around him again. So sure you can take both at once and not falter, you ramp back up to your original pace, slobbering down his cock, the click of your quick motions echoing around your head. Unfortunately for your ego, you’re dead wrong.

Bokuto wastes no time drilling himself into you, setting a bruising pace straight from the beginning. It’s all you can do to loudly moan around Hinata’s cock, still stuffed in your mouth by the slight pistoning of his hips, the way Bokuto is ramming you forward only forcing him deeper down your throat.

As you gag, sputter, and moan down his length, drool dripping onto the already soiled cushions below, Hinata feels the pressure building and building in his core. Electricity tingles down his limbs, aided by the fucked out look in your pretty eyes. He doesn’t even have to move now with the way Bokuto is railing you against him. He wonders if you realize he’s close when you suck a little tight, cheeks hollowing as you take a little more of him, the hand that had been working his base coming down to lightly hold his swollen balls.

You don’t know. At this point, you’re moving on autopilot, simply trying your best. Your brain doesn’t know where to focus - Hinata filling out your mouth or Bokuto as he purposely alternates between hitting against your spongy spot and deep inside of you. It’s all a mess of spit, sweat, and cum, but you don’t think you’ve felt the rush of pleasure that comes with being used so well by more than one person.

Bokuto doesn’t know how much longer he can last. You’re clamping around, cunt fluttering each time his digs in a little deep or Hinata’s cock twitches against your tongue. He can tell by the scrunched up expression on his friend’s face that he can’t last much longer and he doesn’t blame him. Between fucking against your pussy and being wrapped up in your pretty mouth, no one really could. He’s determined to hold out though, a little spark of competition lighting up his chest. When Bokuto’s strokes suddenly slow you groan again, the vibrations dragging a stuttered moan from Hinata’s pretty lips.

“Gonna, hngh, uh gonna cum.” He sputters out, hips quivering as he tries to hold back from fucking too far back into your throat. At that, Bokuto’s hips speed up again, forcing a little whimpered cry, muffled by the cock in your mouth, from you. Still, you force yourself to focus on Hinata, sucking him dry as soon as the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat.

He cums fast and hard and a lot. It’s seeping out from your lips, making him messier than he already was until he’s pulling his softening length from your mouth and flopping back against the couch, gently rubbing your arm while he catches his breath. With a heavy grin, Bokuto shoves a hand between your shoulder blades, knocking you into Hinata’s lap. Somewhat in vain, you try to clean him off between the pitchy mewls and cries that you breathe out while Bokuto chases his own release.

In no time, he’s there again, his own pressure built up as high as it could just before he burst inside of you. He fucks himself raw, your tight hole sucking him in, his cum only making it easier to slip in and out of you. Knowing he’ll finish when he’s completely spent, you lie limp in Hinata’s lap and he lazily wraps a hand around the back of your neck, soothing the leftover tension. You recognize Bokuto’s nearly done when his cock stops twitching and his hips slot against yours with some finality just before he slumps over you.

Whining when he slips out, even soft his cock is still a tight squeeze, you fall all the way against the couch, legs giving out at last. He falls back against the back, moving your legs to sit on top of his thighs and massaging them with great care. Completely spent and drifting half-asleep you just barely hear him.

“So,” he starts, head lolling toward Hinata who’s still lightly working his fingers against your upper back, “Dinner next week?”

#bokuto x reader #hinata x reader #bokuto smut #hinata smut #bokuto x you #hinata x you #hq smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo smut #bokuto kotaro smut #hq x reader

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

#helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo x you #bun writes #baron zemo #zemo #i am KNEELING

[highdramas]

steady now | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers, mention of death? sort of? mention of the blip mostly, some angst, references to sexxxx babie

word count: 4.3k wowie

summary: bucky is not the only one with amends to make.

note: here’s another installment in the twalb story <3 again, you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like! i’m extremely proud of this part so i really hope that you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <3

enjoy! <3

there was once a time where you loved california.

there was once a time where you had a boyfriend with an easy smile and charming demeanor and a family in ventura. his name was felix, and you always told people that he could make anyone fall in love with him with nothing but that stupid smile of him-- of course, you never said how that upset you. you never said how it hurt when the waitress looked at him with dazzling eyes and how he seemed to relish in the attention.

you never voiced how he seemed to eventually bore of the attention that you gave him. you never voiced the way that you wished he would look at you with those dazzling eyes and give you that breezy laughter and that look that said i have you in the palm of my hand.

he did. he didn’t need to give you that look to know that.

sometimes, you wonder if he felt any sort of relief after the blip. you wonder if when you dusted right before him, if he felt like he won in some sick way. of course, you know that he would never admit that. he would never make that known to anyone. maybe even himself. but subconsciously… you wonder if you were simply an accessory that was worn out of convenience, and if your fading from reality was the biggest convenience at all.

it’s sick. you know it’s sick, and likely not true. but still. you wonder.

when you returned, the first thing that you did when you got your hands on a cell phone was call him. you called him and you cried and you said that you were okay, you were here. you asked him what the hell happened. you asked him if it had really been five years.

you heard a voice in the background. it was feminine, light, airy. the voice of a fairy. you’ll never forget hearing that voice. you learned later that she was his fiance.

you’ll never forget the sort of heartbreak that you felt. it was visceral. the knowing-- the knowing that it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anything that you did. it was merely the absence of you. you still wonder how long he mourned. you wonder how long it took. you saw him only a handful of times after you returned. he had cried, and you had stared, unsure what to say.

how do you apologize for fading from existence?

that was the first time you saw him. the second was worse.

the second, you were angry. you were angry and you lashed out. what was supposed to be an easy dinner turned into an explosion of tears and fury, the words this isn’t fair and what was i supposed to do? wait for you? and so desperately you had wanted to say yes. you wanted to say that you wished he had held out hope, that he stayed up and dreamt of you and that he was devoted.

it was a selfish thought. he had told you politely to not contact him again.

you had learned that he had moved back to ventura with his fairy girlfriend from some casual facebook stalking. they bought a house on the coast. they’re planning a wedding.. she is beautiful, and you noticed something from the pictures you see of them together right away. he looks at her not like he was charming her, but like she was charming him.

that’s what made you realize he was never yours to begin with.

now, you’re in california again. now, bucky sits beside you and he drives and you control the music. now, he looks at you like you have hung the stars in the sky and propped up the moon. and you look at him the same way.

bucky has amends to make, but so do you.

when he reaches over and places his hand on your thigh, you smile. you place your hand over his and you squeeze. you’d insisted that you two rent a convertible, and though he rolled his eyes, he obliged. you drive down the pch and it is april and the sun is warm and inviting but not abrasive. he wears sunglasses and he doesn’t wear the gloves. he wears a short sleeved shirt.

it’s enough to make you smile and lay your hand back against the seat and make you think: everything happened just the way it should.

bucky is here to extend his amends to the chaplin family. well… really, he’s here to set them up with the CIA. they’ve been hydra sympathizers for years.

you, on the other hand, are here to extend amends of your own.

bucky knows. bucky knows and he watched you recall the story with tears blurring your vision. you would hiccup and say, “i’m sorry. i’m not sad over him, not anymore. i’m just sad that i could be forgotten so easily.”

he had held your face in his hands and he swiped at your tears and he said, “you’re impossible to forget.”

at first, when you brought up coming with him, he had been hesitant. his endeavors with the amends and with sam, he tends to like keeping separate. you get it. you know he doesn’t want to put you anywhere near the danger that he encounters, even if that maddens you. but then, your face fell and you held out the wedding invitation that had arrived in your mailbox. “i want to go.”

bucky takes it and he studies it and he clenches his jaw. he looks at you through his lashes. “i’m going with you.”

now, the wedding is in three days. you wonder if he was surprise when you sent in your rsvp marked yes. you were surprised that he invited you at all.

once, you remember him saying to you, “sometimes, you have to extend olive branches. you’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

this is your olive branch.

bucky squeezes your thigh and his thumb makes small circles and it instills a calm in you that you haven’t felt since you stepped foot on the plane. he glances over at you. “we don’t have to go.” this isn’t the first time that he’s said this. “we can stay in our hotel all week. i’m sure we can find something to do.”

your jaw drops and you look over at him and he has that smug look on his face. it’s been nice, watching him slip into ease with you. “you are such a pig.”

“i’m just saying, we have options.”

you laugh and you swat his hand away. he grins and he places it on the head rest, his fingers idly playing with a few strands of your hair that blow in the wind as he drives. you pull up to the hotel and you check in and bucky carries all of your bags, which you try to object, but he simply does not care. you fall back onto the mattress and he follows suit and he presses his lips to yours, presses them to your pulse point, your jaw. he whispers against your skin that you are beautiful. he whispers against your skin that you’re an angel.

angel. he always calls you that.

hours pass and you spend most of them beneath bucky, breathless. eventually it is the middle of the night and you have done nothing but fuck and you’ll be the first one to admit that they were hours well spent. he’s propped up on an elbow and he looks down at you, dewy and heavy lidded. “why’d you want to come out here? to the wedding?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that’s what you want to talk about right now?”

he blushes, moves to hide his face, but you beam and you place your hand on the side of his face. you push yourself up and sit criss cross, holding the sheet to your body, facing him. he follows suit.

the two of you do this back home. whether you’re sitting on the living room floor or in bed. it’s easier to talk in the dark, bucky once said. you’d never forgotten. so, this became a sort of unspoken ritual. you would sit with your knees brushing and you would talk and you would laugh and you never wanted this to change.

“i guess i don’t know why i wanted to come.” you reach for his hand and he offers it to you. you run your fingers along the golden grooves, and you swear that you see the hairs on his opposite arm begin to stand up. “i didn’t want to be seen as the bitter ex. i hate-- i hate being perceived. you know? like, i can’t control how anyone views me. i can’t control them thinking i’m crazy or irrational. but… they don’t know anything at all.” bucky’s eyes never leave you. “i wanted to come because i feel like i’m ready to face it. the truth of it. i don’t feel fearful of it all. i used to feel so… gross. gross about how i reacted and how i felt. i felt so selfish. but now…” you can’t help but smile a little bit and you touch the place on his chest where his heart lies in his ribcage. “i’m glad for it. all of it. it’s stupid, but… it brought me here.” you lean your palm into his chest just slightly more. he covers your hand with his and he pulls you in, your hand splayed out on him.

bucky is softening before you. so often you are the one who offers an ear and a comforting touch, but he is happy to repay the favor whenever you need it. “you’re too strong all the time.” his words are definitive, with no room for arguing. “you were hurting. you’re allowed to hurt. you didn’t have a choice in missing out on five years while the world went on without you.”

of course, you know he’s right, but it just feels good to hear it. it feels good to hear it from him. “and he was an asshole.” bucky’s jaw sets. “he had five years to mourn you and your relationship. he barely gave you a month. what sort of guy does that? to a girl he loved?” he shakes his head, as if shaking the thought from his person. “if that were me, i would’ve…”

you watch as he trails off. he looks down and away. you gently take his face and move it up, getting him to look at you again. he gives you this smile that is equal parts sorrow and loving, and you wish you could take away all his pain. “i’d mourn you for life. and i… if i got the chance to have you again? i’d--”

“bucky.” you cut him off smoothly and you shake your head. “that won’t happen.”

he smiles. “i know.” he pushes your hair back and his hand rests on the back of your neck. “i just can’t imagine someone having you and not--” he shakes his head. “he’s a fool.”

gently, your hands lay on his knees and you lean forward. “you asked why i wanted to come,” you whisper, your lips nearly touching his. “i wanted to come because i want to thank him.” you press your lips against his, and his hand goes to splay on your back, pulling you in nearer and nearer. “he recommended the apartment building.”

bucky grins and you connect in every possible place. you roll between the sheets once more and eventually, sleep overtakes you.

the days leading up to the wedding pass by in a relative blur. bucky goes to make his amends and though you offer to come, he shakes his head. “i’ll be quick,” is his promise, and he keeps good on it. he’s gone barely two hours.

you spend time on the beach and sight seeing. you don’t know if you’ve ever seen bucky this… relaxed. yes, he’s always slightly more alert than your average citizen, but you will never fault him for that. you go and get ice cream and you sit on a little bench and bucky stares at you. “what?” you asked and you raise your brows. “something on my face?”

“actually, yes.” he reaches out and swipes your bottom lip, coming back with some strawberry ice cream on his thumb. he pops it into his mouth and it makes your heart plummet to your stomach. “yum.”

you all but drag him back to your hotel.

finally, it is the day of the wedding.

bucky has been ready for hours. he likes unbearably handsome-- you’d gone with him to a shop in new york and had helped him pick out some new slacks and a nice fitting shirt. he had chuckled at the way that the pants hit his ankles and said, “it’s definitely not the forties anymore.”

you had picked out a sage green silk dress, and you smooth it out in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you looked at yourself. bucky approaches you from behind and you’re so stuck in your own head that you hardly notice him until his hands are on you. they go to your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into tense muscles with his thumbs. “you look beautiful, doll.” he leans forward and he presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, which makes you smile, because it’s so him. “i wanna kiss you but i don’t want to mess up your makeup.”

“like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“i’m a gentleman.”

a smirk works its way onto your face and some of the nervous, fluttering monarchs in your stomach have begun to dissipate. you turn and he gently holds your face, examining it. he opens his mouth to say something, laughs, and closes it. “i don’t even know how…” he clears his throat. you swear that tears prick at his eyes. “i don’t even know how to say how much… how perfect you are. i’ll never be able to say it properly.”

everything about james buchanan barnes makes you melt, and this is no different. you sigh and you lean your body against his, and he holds you ever close. “thank you for coming with me,” you whisper into the skin of his neck. “i needed you here.”

he holds the back of your head carefully. “i’d follow you anywhere, doll.” he pulls back and his hand holds your face, and the vibranium is like a kiss to your cheek. “may i kiss you?”

your lips part and you nod-- and he takes his time kissing you. he kisses you long and tender, making sure that you feel everything. sometimes you think that this is easier than talking for him-- this is the way that he can show you how perfect he finds you. it’s better than any words he could string together.

the ride to the venue is somewhat of a blur. bucky doesn’t take his hand off of you-- it’s constantly holding yours. from the car to the walk inside to taking your seats-- you can feel the eyes that are glued to you, but you can feel bucky’s hand in yours more. you can hear the muffled whispers of gossiping friends and family, but you hear bucky’s murmured complaints louder, and they make you laugh.

felix is at the altar already. he’s talking with a groomsman and he laughs at something and you smile a bit. he looks happy, you think. bucky’s arm is slung across the back of your chair and his fingers trail up and down your shoulder, his eyes fixed on you.

you turn to look at him, too. you lay your hand on his knee and your smile says your thanks over and over and over again. bucky’s eyes flick to the altar, and he sees that you’ve finally been noticed. felix may be looking at you, but you will never know. you are looking at bucky.

the ceremony is pretty. bucky’s bored, you think-- that thought is enough to make you chuckle. felix’s fairy girlfriend is exactly what you gathered from the pictures-- she is energetic and kind, she is sweet and beautiful. the more you think, the more you watch the way that felix looks at her, the lighter you feel.

a part of you had feared that you would never get over him. that you would never get over the what if. possibilities tended to haunt you, but now, being here… you had known for a long time that not only had you gotten over him, you had found something so much better than what you had. but it’s the thought that thrums through you that you were not expecting.

you can see this for yourself. one day. bucky at an altar in a suit, you in white.

you smile to yourself in your seat. bucky looks over at you. you look over at him, just for a moment. your heart feels full.

felix begins his vows. “carly,” he begins and he clears his throat. you can tell that he’s already getting emotional. “never did i once expect to find you. never did i expect to find someone who fit with me so… completely.” you watch as his hands shake as he holds the piece of paper. “but i did. and i’m so lucky it was you.”

his vows go on, and they are beautiful. through it all, you can sense bucky beside you, entirely attentive to you.

the reception is on the beach. the sun is setting, and it is stunning. the food is good and every gives speeches and toasts and you’ve been placed at a table with some friends that both you and felix had known. of course, when shit hit the fan with you and felix, you hadn’t exactly kept in touch, but they’re kind nevertheless. some recognize bucky, and the questions they ask make you cringe. “so… winter soldier,” one of them, kya, begins. “you actually did all of that bad shit?”

it takes everything in you not to lunge across the table. bucky’s hand finds your leg underneath the table, already knowing what you’d like to do. you open your mouth to interject, but bucky cuts you off. “hydra did.” he gives a clipped smile. it leaves no room for discussion.

they ask about the avengers and about thanos, and all of it makes you roll your eyes. they talk to bucky as if he’s a toy rather than a human being. as everyone is mingling, you see the couple beginning to approach your table. everyone cheers and scoops them up into hugs. it makes a part of you sad. not because of him, but because it’s another reminder of how life went on without you.

you and bucky stand and approach them. you can almost feel bucky’s hesitation as he sizes up felix. the protectiveness in his stance makes your heart swell. carly smiles at you, but you can tell that there’s a hint of nervousness in her demeanor. “hi!” she says and she looks between you and bucky. “we were both so happy when we got your rsvp. a little surprised, but…”

your eyebrow raises and you look at them. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you place your hand on bucky’s arm. “felix, carly, this is my boyfriend, james. james, felix and carly.”

he shakes their hands and you note the way their eyes flick to the metal one on the other side. bucky and carly begin to make awkward small talk, and you look at felix. he looks at you. there’s something knowing in the stare. “want to take a walk?” he asks, nodding towards the beach.

you nod. felix turns to carly and you turn to bucky, who has a slightly concerned look written on his face. “it’ll be fine.” you lean in and you kiss him, wanting to take any insecurity from him. “play nice, but not too nice. if they say anything stupid, call them on it.”

bucky smirks. “you got it, doll.” he looks to felix and nods to him, and there’s something in bucky’s eyes that must scare him, because you swear felix pales slightly. and then you and felix set off.

for the first part of your walk, both of you are quiet. it’s as if both of you knew that this was inevitable, and now you’re just trying to figure out where to start. both of you begin to talk at the same time, and it causes awkward chuckles to fill the air between you. you stop by a log and you sit, staring out at the ocean. you cross your legs and you look over at him to find his gaze still on the ocean. finally, it moves to you. “i’m sorry.” you both say it at the same time.

a sad smile settles onto your face and you look away. “you first,” he says.”

“i’m sorry.” you look at him again. “i’m not sorry for the way that i felt. i’m not sorry for hurting. but i am sorry that i lashed out. i was… angry.” you suck in a breath. “people who stayed… they’ll always carry the grief and the trauma of those five years. but the people who came back? we came back to a world that had moved on. i can’t… i can’t explain to you how hard that was. it wasn’t just you. i lost everything.” you shake your head. “i took it all out on you. all that hurt. and i’m sorry for that.”

felix nods his head. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t more understanding of what you were going through. that i just… cut you off.” he swallows. “i had five years to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t coming back. even when you were back, it almost felt… fake. like i was looking at a ghost.” he swallows. “but i missed you. i want you to know that i missed you, and i thought about you.”

a small smile works onto your face. “thanks.” you look towards the crowd, where people are laughing and dancing. “she seems great.”

felix looks over his shoulder. “she is. she keeps me… in check. i can be kind of an asshole. i don’t know how either of you dealt with me.” this makes you laugh and roll your eyes. “you and bucky barnes, huh?”

“i have you to thank for that.” he looks at you in confusion. “the building you recommended me? we were neighbors.” you smile, thinking back on the memory of bucky barnes at your door, asking if you needed help building your cat tower. “he is the best thing that has happened to me,” you say it with no hint of hesitation.

felix smiles. “he looks like he’s crazy about you. he barely looks anywhere else.”

you bite down on your lip. “yeah, i’ve heard that before.” the wind ruffles your hair slightly, and you look at felix and he looks at you. “i’ve spent a lot of time being angry at you. i don’t want to be angry anymore.”

he shakes his head. “i don’t want to either.” he pauses. “maybe… maybe, one day, the four of us could… you know, get dinner or something.”

“yeah,” you nod your head. “one day.” you stand, and he follows suit, and you look up at him. “thank you. for inviting me.”

“thank you for coming.”

there’s a level of awkwardness that rests between you, and you think that perhaps it’s inevitable. but also, you can’t help the sense of relief.

part of you thinks that he’s itching to hug you, and you may be extending some forgiveness tonight, but you’re certainly not there yet. you begin to walk towards the party. “c’mon. you need to go to your bride.”

when you return, you think bucky might be ready to drive his steak knife through his eye. you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and bending so that your face is beside his. “miss me?”

he snorts. “you have no idea, doll.”

you watch as felix makes his way to carly, and you meet his eye. he gives you a slight nod and a knowing smile, and you return it.

there’s a weight that’s lifted off of your chest.

“c’mon,” you say to bucky, tugging him up. “we’re going to dance.”

he groans and you laugh, pulling him by the hands to the dance floor. just as you are, you make me feel so young begins to play around you. as you step onto the dance floor, you begin singing the words quietly to him. your dancing slows to a light sway, and in your ear, bucky begins murmuring the words to you.

your eyes flutter shut and a sweeping calm comes over you. “you know… i never thought i would get married. did you?”

bucky’s hands have a firm place on your waist. “i grew up in the forties. of course i thought i was going to get married,” you two spin slightly. “but, after everything… i didn’t think that was ever going to be in the cards for me.”

your breath catches. “and now?”

“now?” bucky asks into your ear. “i can only dream i get lucky enough to have you as my bride.”

your cheeks grow warm. “mrs. barnes…” you lean back to look at him. “has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

the look on bucky’s face, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen that look before. “yes.” his voice is so firm it nearly brings you to your knees. “yes, it does.”

you two slow to a halt and bucky tilts your chin up. “guess i have some work to do,” his lips ghost over yours. “mrs. barnes.”

the world around you stops, and in that moment, it is only you and bucky. it is you and bucky at your ex’s wedding, and there is nowhere else you would want to be.

you’re beginning to understand why bucky likes making amends.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #the world's a little blurry

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

#deancas #destiel #spn fanfic #perlukafarinn writes #fluff #domestic #post-canon #established relationship #thank u to miriam who read through most of this #and assured me that it's plenty gay!

[guqin-and-flute]

nieyao or 3zun + prompt 64 with cat!baxia

64. “I think your cat wants to kill me.” [This got way away from me WHOOPS]

“So. This date is going fantastically. Do I make top 10?”

Meng Yao huffed a short, polite laugh through his nose at Mingjue’s rueful question. “Being nursed back to health by a handsome man is certainly adding back points lost in the cat attack,” he replied, and some of the frustrated dread bled from the ball in Mingjue’s chest. “I really could do this myself, you know,” he added.  

Mingjue sighed. “Yeah, well, since it was my cat attack, I feel like I need to make reparations. I’ve also taken First Aid more times than I can count and cat scratches can get really nasty.” 

If this were a one of the sappy romcoms Huaisang loved so much, standing at the sink together as he tended to the 2 gashes scoring down Meng Yao’s forearm with several antiseptic soaked cotton balls had the potential to be romantic. Except Mingjue had never liked those movies and he just felt like a fucking asshole who owned an unruly animal.

He had met Meng Yao at the grocery store. Mingjue had looked up from his phone at the sound of a sharp voice--a middle aged business man was snapping at a young man in front of him in line; "Fucking Christ, you're going to hold up everyone."

"You can go ahead of me if you'd like--"

"There's a whole line of people here! We all have places to go!"

The man being yelled at--(the very attractive man with round, dark eyes, he noted)--had grimaced placatingly, as the cashier was saying, "We can hold his groceries while he goes out, sir, you won't have to wait."

A the business man threw his hands into the air in disgust, Mingjue had slid his phone into his back pocket and interrupted in his 'is this guy bothering you' voice; "What's the problem?"

3 pairs of eyes had darted to him immediately and gone wide. The very good looking man had tensed completely, eyes darting to the door in a way that looked involuntary--and well, Mingjue had been struck by the completely overwhelming urge to tuck him back behind him and make this asshole between them shit his pants in fear. And anyone else that made him look that scared, for that matter. "I'm sorry," the scared, attractive, adorable, fragile-looking, harassed young man had said a tight smile, "I forgot my wallet in my car, we can just--"

"Here," Mingjue slid out his credit card handed it--pointedly--over Mr. Business-Asshole's head to the cashier. "I'll cover it. You know what," he had added, fixing the quickly wilting dickhead with his best 'I-can-bench-press-you-and-then-feed-you-your-own-esophagus-no-problem' stare, "Why don't you get the nice lady behind me, too. Once this guy is done running for the biggest jackass award. I'll wait."

And, you know, weirdly enough, Mr. Asshole had actually left the line, red faced and without his shitty little protein shakes. As the cashier bit back a grin and rung up the card, the harassed young man--who was even prettier up close, holy hell, it made his lower back sweat--had tried to insist that it wasn't necessary, that really, he had the money, he could just go get it, he appreciated it but didn't need Mingjue to put himself out. Mingjue had just shrugged and held out his hand. "It's the principle of the thing. Nie Mingjue."

The man had opened his mouth, looked down at his hand; then, he had smiled and holy goddamn fucking shitballs he had dimples. Shaking it firmly in a hand that was soft and cool and slim, he had said, "Then...thank you. Meng Yao. I'll have to pay you back. Do you have a cash app?"

"Don't bother."

"I insist."

"You can buy me dinner sometime, then," Mingjue's mouth had decided to say without permission, but luckily he agreed with the idea and so had been quite pleased to see Meng Yao's ears go pink.

"...That sounds fair," he replied, finally, those lovely dimples returning.

The cashier had cleared their throat, brightly. "Do you by chance have our loyalty card?"

They agreed on a first date in a public restaurant where they could verify that the other wasn’t some sort of serial killer. It had even been a nice one that Meng Yao had insisted on where they had also shared a bottle of wine and interesting conversation. Meng Yao was exceedingly smart and easy to talk to--the perfect conversational partner with a knack for solving many of the problems that Mingjue hadn't even realized he complained about. In return, he had made his attraction quite clear and Meng Yao had ducked his head.

"I'll have you know that I don't go home with anyone on the first date," he had said carefully, eyes on his fingertip as he ran it around the rim of his wineglass. "It's a personal rule of mine. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"That's fine with me," Mingjue shrugged. "If you're up for it, I'll wait for as many dates outlasts your rule, 'cause I grill a mean steak."

Those dimples came back and he had sat back in his chair, voice light as he asked, "Oh? Won't you get bored?"

Mingjue had snorted and finished off his glass. "Just because I'd like to sleep with you doesn't mean I don't also want to get to know you, you know."

Mingjue was just getting to know the guy, so he couldn't be sure, but that answer seemed to please him.

The night of the cat disaster was the 4th on their run of dates--Mingjue had shooed Huaisang over to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s house for the night and invited Meng Yao over via text for dinner and a movie and also the option of sex, if he wanted. 

Apparently, the bluntness had made Meng Yao laugh. Mingjue had texted back that he preferred honesty in all things and could handle a ‘no, thanks’ with plenty maturity. Meng Yao had replied, ‘I’m sure you can,’ which, he had very keenly noticed, was not a ‘no, thanks.’

Dinner had gone great--homemade meals always seemed to impress--and they had been preparing to split a chocolate lava cake in front of a shitty action movie they had both agreed on with the understanding that neither of them minded missing anything if they decided fooling around was more interesting.

But now, there was blood everywhere--on the dishes in the sink, on the towel they had hastily staunched it with, on the countertop and the mood was ruined because his giant, grumpy ass cat had decided to savage his date as they were cleaning up the table. Baxia had sniffed his leg suspiciously when he first came in, flinching away as he knelt down to offer his fingers. Then, she had fixed him with a glare, hissed, and turned around and stalked away, fluffy gray tail held high--which, for her, was practically a warm welcome. She had her boys--Huaisang and Mingjue--and hated pretty much everyone else (except for Wei Wuxian's older sister Jiang Yanli when she had dropped him off to hang out with Huaisang when his license got suspended. Which had happened a few times, now).

Everything had been fine with her while they ate--she had even spent it under the table, rubbing up against Mingjue's legs, staring up at Meng Yao without making so much as a peep. It was when they had risen that disaster struck. She had hopped up onto Meng Yao's chair and decided to take personal offense to his existence with absolutely no warning at all when he passed by with his hands full of silverware.

Now, Meng Yao’s long fingers curled into a fist as the cotton passed over a particularly deep part of the slice, though his face remained calm, so Mingjue winced for him. "Sorry. I swear, she's never done this before, I don't know what the hell her problem is."

Meng Yao shook his head, smile pressed and polite as he said, "Really, it's fine." He shifted on his feet to lean his hip against the cupboards and, immediately, Mingjue seized his elbows. 

“Are you dizzy?”

The other man had stiffened at the sudden movement, staring up at him. Then, he blinked and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm alright.”

Mingjue eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sure?”

He laughed. “I’m not going into shock, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve had much worse, trust me. I’m not going to pass out.”

Mingjue remained unconvinced. Instead of arguing further, he simply lifted him by the waist to sit on the island across from the sink for lack of a chair. Meng Yao let out the beginning of a squeak, hands automatically flashing up to bunch in the front of his shirt for balance. He blinked down at Mingjue, then the ground, then back at him, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Mingjue couldn't tell if it was annoyance, horniness, or a combination of both--and that was all well and good except that he was still bleeding and he knew from experience what a bitch blood was to get out of clothing. So he just pulled Meng Yao's arm out again and went back to work, asking, "So what was the 'much worse'?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you knew you're not going to pass out because you've had 'much worse'. What's the story there?"

"Ah. No story. I broke my arm. Compound fracture. I stayed awake the whole time, so a cat scratch is fairly minor, in comparison."

Mingjue hissed in through his teeth reflexively in sympathy and scanned him. Either he healed fantastically or the scar was higher up on his arms, under the soft cream sweater sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows--luckily, they had been rolled up before the attack and had escaped blood thus far. "Fuck. How'd that happen?"

"Fell down some stairs."

Mingjue raised an eyebrow at the stark explanation. "Well, maybe you shouldn't fall down stairs. Ever thought of that?"

Meng Yao smiled thinly down at him, dark eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights. "Mm. I'll have to keep that in mind." The dimples he searched for avidly were there, faintly, and Mingjue found himself wanting to nibble on them.

They hadn't done much else besides a kiss goodnight in the shadows near the entrance to the parking garages of their dates, because Mingjue was being good and keeping his hands above the belt. And he should probably figure out whether or not this date was going to have the eject button pressed, first. There was blood everywhere, still.

"Why all the First Aid classes?" Meng Yao asked suddenly, keeping his arm extended out even as Mingjue released him to rummage for the antibacterial spray. "Was it because your demon cat kept attacking people?"

Mingjue barked out a laugh and sprayed down his arm--Meng Yao didn't flinch. "At first, it was for lifeguarding, every summer since I was 16 until I graduated college. Now, I take refresher courses because I run a martial arts studio and shit can get real real fast, especially with newbies who try to fuck around." Tearing open the packet of sterilized gauze with his teeth so he could still hold his arm, he situated it and held it with a gentle thumb. "Tape or gauze wrap?"

Meng Yao shrugged. "I have no preference. Surprise me."

Gauze wrap it was. It would hurt less than pulling tape off his arm later. Meng Yao watched him finish up quietly, ankles linked, posture straight and proper even sitting on a kitchen counter. On impulse, Mingjue lifted his now bandaged arm and kissed the skin of his wrist, just below where the gauze stopped and got a slight shiver for his trouble. He looked up at him, then, an angle he was not used to but was definitely enjoying. "This has been a piss poor date. I really am sorry."

"The dinner was lovely before it ended in bloodshed, I promise," Meng Yao assured him, smiling. Then, it grew a little sly and he leaned in, slowly, stretching his arms out over Mingjue's shoulders to link behind his neck. "Although, you could always kiss it better."

Well, there was no possible way to misinterpret that particular invitation and he heartily took it, snugging Meng Yao up against him with hands on his hips and devouring him just as indulgently as he would the forgotten lava cake cooling on the stove top. He hummed in appreciation as Meng Yao's arms wrapped tighter, his thighs squeezing around his hips as he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. He tasted like the dry wine they had finished the meal with.

All at once, though, Meng Yao froze, hands stilling in his hair. Before Mingjue had time to be confused, he whispered against his mouth, "I think your cat wants to kill me," eyes fixed on something over Mingjue's shoulder.

Mingjue craned his neck around to find Baxia perched on the counter next to the sink, tail swishing, gaze locked with Meng Yao, ears flicked out to the sides. She let out a low, quiet growl.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Mingjue growled back. "That's it. You're going in Huaisang's room for the night."

#little-smartass #SO LIKE WRITING THINGS CHRONOLOGICALLY IS APPARENTLY DIFFICULT FOR ME #But this was fun!! Nice low stakes! Cat attack! #Nieyao #modern au #ask #prompt #my fic #my stuff #this became much longer than I anticipated

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”

#aot #aot headcanons #porco galliard #porco x reader #connie springer #conny springer x reader #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #snk #annie leonhart #pieck finger #pieck finger x reader #snk headcanons #hange zoe #hange x reader #annie leonhart x reader #attack on titan #college au

[ktheist]

life is yours

muses. professor!fiancee!namjoon x reader x fiancee’s friend!past life husband! expecting father!yoongi

genre. reincarnation au. college au. pregnancy au.

word. 1.7k

x

you loved min yoongi, you’d die for him.

and died for him you did. when the traitors came for your king, you’d leaped in front of him and took a swing of the treacherous sword. history books portrayed him as the king who went mad. the king who slayed hundreds of lives in one night and ruled for fifty more years as a tyrant.

what are histories if not painted with a tragic romance?

they said it was because of you he went mad. because he lost his queen, his breath.

a few hundred years later, he’d found her again. at the age of twenty-seven and you, twenty-two.

his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby and you were professor kim namjoon’s student-turned-fiance.

“it’s funny, you know,” you took a whiff of the cigarette and breathe out through your mouth, “we can walk out of our current relationships and ruin everyone’s perception of us, or we can just lead the life we’re living like we didn’t remember anything.”

yoongi squints his eyes as he stares up at the sun. lips tucked downwards, as though telling the universe that after one lifetime too many, he’s unimpressed.

“or we could just run away,” he recalls the flames of the torches of that night - not as bright as today’s sun but just as mocking, “forget about everything and run away.”

“you make it sound so easy,” a laugh escapes your smoke kissed lips, “it’s not as if the people we’ve known and loved are fake, faceless puppets.”

this life is just as real.

though it would’ve gone much different if you’d met each other sooner.

yoongi taps the pointed corner of the invitation card on his palm. it tickles but it’s nothing compared to the burning sensation as he held onto the handle of the sword despite it grazing his flesh.

“how far along is she?” his girlfriend, you mean. 

walking into namjoon’s office - the office you’d snuck into a few times too many but felt utterly alien - you saw the porcelain, snow-kissed complexion of your king. all at once, the memories hit you like a rain of shards.

and in each, individual shard, you see the images of your first step, first drawing, first embroidery and the first time you met yoongi. an arrogant boy whom you pushed into the koi pond.

the same boy who smirked at you the whole time during your engagement ceremony while you squirmed in your seat, scheming a runway and an apology at the same time.

and the man who strutted into the room, plopped on the left side of the bed and bade you good night on your first night as a married couple.

it was until three months later, that you trapped him under you and confronted him about it.

you thought yoongi, the crown prince turned king, had a lover. but he loved you too much to hurt you. they said you’re supposed to bleed on your first time. you laughed until your stomach hurt because you were happy beyond words that your husband was abstaining himself for you and not going around fucking a lover behind your back.

not even a year later, you caressed your stomach and giggled to yourself, thinking about yoongi’s stone cold expression turning pink and speechless. that night, the rebellion happened.

your last memories was of him holding you in his arms and calling out your name. 

in this lifetime, your first memory of him is watching him smile a familiar smile that screamed awkwardness as namjoon relayed their youthful tales.

that was, until he got to the part where yoongi’s about to be a father.

all of a sudden, there’s a knot in your stomach. it twists and tightens until you feel like you’re going to puke if you didn’t excuse yourself, saying something about calling your mom that you’d be having dinner with namjoon and letting the two men catch up.

“ten weeks. we’re ten weeks pregnant,” he sucks in a deep, agonized breath - and from the way he’s gazing up at the sky with his hands on his hips, you don’t think he meant to hide his afflictions.

the way he refers to himself and her as ‘we’ makes that knot all the more painful.

“i was a seven weeks pregnant,” you smile softly to yourself, gazing down at your stomach as if you could feel your baby from your previous lifetime.

you shouldn’t have said it.

should’ve just kept quiet.

but-

“they told me you were eight weeks in,” the soft, breathless tone that comes from yoongi is  what makes your heart beat again.

as if you’d come to life. as if min ___, the queen of joseon had come back to tell her king the one thing she wished to say. the one thing she wished for.

a family.

“taeyang. i was going to name him taeyang because he was going to be the sun of the dynasty and bring peace to the nation,” you laugh and it’s the choked up sound that you make that makes you realize you’re on the verge of crying.

“never thought i’d be talking about histories and dynasties with anyone - i hate history,” the confession slips out of you like you’re talking with an old friend. someone you trust wholeheartedly. someone you know you can confide in. 

yoongi was your friend, your lover, your king.

“come with me. i have a savings account, we can start anew somewhere, we can have what we couldn’t have back then.” he turns to you and looks at you in the eye. 

“what about your baby?” you ask because you know it’s meant for his future family.

“i’ll send child support every month,” he says.

“your parents?” you ask because his mother was a concubine and the king barely remembered his name out of the names of his many children.

in this lifetime, from the way namjoon candidly told the story, you know they love their eldest son as much as he loves them.

“they’ll adore you,” he says.

“no one’s gonna love a homewr- ah,” you hiss, dropping the cigarette that was trapped between your fingers until it burned your skin.

“___,” a familiar, deep but less gravelly tone reverberates against the walls as namjoon comes jogging at you like you’re a kid who just bruised her knee.

you study his face and yoongi’s eyes burn holes in your head.

from the way he meets your gaze and gives you ‘your fingers almost got burned and you’re looking at me?’ you think it’s safe to say that he didn’t hear what you were saying.

“i’m fine, i just burned my fingers because i got too engulfed in yoongi’s stories about how you two met,” you laugh at how namjoon’s inspecting your fingers more attentively than a doctor would.

“another reason to include in the long list of reasons not to smoke,” your finacee chides.

“that was my last,” you announce in a higher pitch than your usual voice - and that’s how namjoon knows you’re half-joking, even when you- “i promise.”

“anyways,” you place the injured hand on his chest to distract him - the way yoongi’s jaw tighten doesn’t go past you, “i talked to my dad because apparently my mom was cooking and couldn’t come to the phone and he said to tell you to bring me back before curfew.”

it’s the way namjoon freezes underneath your touch, his eyes blinking once and his soul retreating far back into his subconscious that makes you giggle.

“i’m kidding.”

only then, does he breathe again.

“my mom wasn’t cooking, she was watching her favorite show,” you say again.

it takes a split second for namjoon to put two and two together and tenses up again. as if he feels your father’s hardened gaze behind him. your father didn’t take it too well when you introduced your professor as your boyfriend who proposed to you a week before.

“it was nice meeting you, yoongi, we look forward to see you at our wedding,” you extend a hand, the playful smile reserved for namjoon, now directed at your king.

the king whom you died for. and the king who you’re telling to live his life, as you’ll live yours.

“wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding for the world,” he smiles, his hand grasping yours and you thought you’re going to combust from the electrifying sensation that runs through your veins.

but it’s only short-lived. 

you pull your hand away and he summons his back to his side.

he turns to namjoon and gives him a pat on his shoulder, congratulating him again but this time, with a lingering stare before walking past the two of you and towards the parking lot.

“professor, i’ll get my purse from your office and we’ll be good to go.” you say absently before skipping to the opposite direction of where yoongi was headed.

with each step you take, you hear your heart breaking. just like the pieces of your memories that rains down like shards of glass.

you wonder if you’ll make it through this life without dying of a broken heart.

“i thought we fixed that?” namjoon murmurs behind you, just as you sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder.

“hm?” you turn to the man leaning against the doorframe, observing you with a crease between his brows.

“you called me professor again,” namjoon mumbles almost as if he’s sulking.

and your heart warms at the tender sight of a grown man acting like a child. you’re reminded of the reason you fell for kim namjoon. his gentle nature was the opposite of yours yet he laughed at your jokes like he laughed off your flirtatious advancements.

he told you he saw you as a student and lent you his scarf when he saw you shaking in the cold while waiting for your uber. the next time he saw you, at 11 pm before the library closes, he offered to drive you home even though his was in the opposite direction from yours.

“namjoon,” you say his name, a smile tucked on your lips as you wrap your arms around his waist and his arm that had been crossed over his chest instantly makes it way around you, “thank you.”

“for what?” his eyes light up like a christmas tree, dimple digging into his cheek.

“for choosing me,” you stand on the tip of your toes and he meets you halfway for the kiss.

and you loved min yoongi, you died for him.

you love kim namjoon, you choose to live the rest of your life with him.

x

note. so like, the title - technically, it’s like oc saying “my life is yours” to both yoongi and namjoon but in different lifetimes :D

#bts fic #yoongi fic #namjoon fic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #bts x yn #bts x reader #bts x you #namjoon x you #namjoon x yn #namjoon x reader #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.7 | Brittana

A/N - And just like that, Lockdown 6.0 is upon us LOL. Good news, more time to write. Bad news, boredom looms. Anyway, thank you to those who have left lovely reviews and/or have gifted me with a coffee through ko-fi. I hope you all know that those emails are some of the first I read when I wake up in the morning - instant happiness! 🥰

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Being ambushed by parents ends up turning into a trend for Santana when the following weekend Maribel decides to make a spontaneous trip to New York. Apparently there’s some banquet dinner Eddie is attending which Maribel’s accompanying him to.

The invite was extended to Santana as well, but those dinners are always super boring so she blew it off with an excuse about spending time with Brittany instead since their schedules have been so busy.

What she didn’t expect is for Maribel to make an unexpected pit stop at hers and Puck’s place beforehand, hoping to at least say hi to the happy couple.

Problem is – half of said couple isn’t here.

“Mami, we’re just really busy with this assignment,” Santana tries – hoping that it would be enough to deter her mom for awhile considering Brittany isn’t around. “It’s really getting down to the wire, can’t we see you tomorrow?”

“Ay Santana, I’m already on the way,” Maribel replies in a huff. “It’s only a quick visit and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t you just like…skip it and continue on your way?”

“I haven’t seen you since New Year’s and I came all this way to see you – “

“You’re not even here for me, you’re here for Eddie.”

Suddenly there’s a pause and Santana wonders if that little comment just got her into some hot water.

“Why don’t you want to see your mother?” Maribel asks instead. “Are you hiding something from me? You and Puck aren’t up to something again, are you? Roping in Brittany?”

Santana’s eyes go big and it feels like she’s just swallowed a handful of sand. Her heart rate’s picking up and she’s struggling to come up with an answer. She feels like she’s got a hot spotlight on her; thank God her mom can’t actually see her right now!

“We’re not,” Santana finally says. “Like I said, Brittany and I are just a little busy with this assignment…but I guess we can take a break for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Maribel praises. “We’ll be around in about twenty minutes.”

Santana gulps, “Great. See you then.”

Once she hangs up, she grabs the nearest pillow and yells into it. The muffled screams have Puck running out of his room so fast that he clips the doorframe with his shoulder. A loud thud echoes throughout Santana’s room as Puck stumbles and looks around frantically.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We’ve got a Code Red,” Santana tells him.

His eyes drift down to her lap then back up as he starts to grimace, “Oh. Do you like…need things?”

Santana scrunches her brow but then she realizes what he’s talking about.

“No, not that Code Red,” She explains. “Mom’s on her way. I need to get Brittany over here ASAP!”

“Oh shit!” Puck curses and takes off to the living to start tidying.

The last time Maribel came around for a surprise visit, she basically tore Puck a new one. Long story short, his version of clean isn’t the same as Maribel’s and they spent an entire afternoon together going through the various cleaning products that should be used around the house and what they should be used for.

Meanwhile, Santana rushes to make the call. She just hopes that Brittany won’t give her a hard time for this, hopefully she answers the damn phone!

“Hi?” Brittany answers questioningly.

“Hey,” Santana replies.

“Did you butt dial me or something?”

“What? No.”

“You just – you never call me.”

“Yeah well…I don’t have much time to explain, but I need you to come over like right now.”

“Uhh, I’m kind of in the middle of something.“

“Brittany, please,” Santana begs. “My mom’s on her way over and she’s fully expecting you to be here too.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I’m freaking out, that’s why!”

“Okay, well don’t freak out. It’ll be fine. How much time do I have?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Thanks for the warning.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Look, it took me by surprise too.”

“Alright well, find your cool. We can’t have her suspecting anything’s up.”

Santana nods, already feeling a little calmer. “Just hurry, okay?”

“I’m on my way now. Don’t worry.”

\\

When Maribel comes knocking on Santana’s door, the brunette loses all cool once again because Brittany’s still nowhere in sight. Santana’s looking at Puck, but he has no idea what to do either. Maybe they can stall until she gets here, but how? Maribel would totally think something’s up if they refuse to let her inside!

“Just let her in?” Puck whispers, “We can say Britt went to pick up our take-out?”

“And further confirm that I don’t fucking cook here? No way.”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“I don’t kn –“

“Santana?” Maribel calls out from the hall after another knock. “Hello?”

Puck’s eyes go wide, “She can hear us.”

“No shit, she knows I’m home.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking, fuck! Why am I so stressed out?”

Santana and Puck go back and forth trying to come up with some way to stall, but it’s impossible under the pressure.

“I think we have to let her in,” Santana tells Puck in a grave tone.

Puck looks at her uneasily, “I think so too.”

After checking her phone once more for an update from Brittany – there isn’t one – Santana goes to let Maribel and Eddie in. They’re both dressed to the nines, must be a fancy banquet dinner.

“Hi!” Santana greets, attempting to mask her uneasiness.

She’s quickly embraced in a motherly hug while Puck compliments his coach on his sick suit.

“How are you, mija?” Maribel asks as she cups Santana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Am I?” Santana feels the nerves rattling within her. Where the hell is Brittany?!

“Yes,” Maribel looks her over. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Just tired.”

“Because exams are coming up,” Puck clarifies.

“That’s right,” Santana nods. “Lots of studying to do if I want to ace them.”

Maribel nods, seemingly pleased by Santana’s work ethic.

“Yeah, plus her and Britt have also been super busy with this assignment they’re doing together,” Puck adds. “It’s a lot.”

“Ah yes,” Maribel looks around. “Where is Brittany?”

Santana clenches her jaw and looks to Puck. There’s a guilty smile on his face as he secretly mouths out a sorry. Still though, she has to think on her feet.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Santana replies. It’s not her best work, but it was the first thing she thought of. Maybe they can work with it?

“Yeah, I think she had a bad salad for lunch,” Puck tries again.

Santana glares at him and mouths a shut up that goes unnoticed by Maribel and Eddie.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Maribel frowns.

“Those salads are always a hit or miss,” Eddie confirms. “I try to stay away from them.”

“Don’t listen to Puck. It’s nothing like that,” Santana assures them. “Anyway, exam prep; super intense, long nights, tedious studying. I’m so ready for it to be over.”

Maribel looks apologetically at her, “Don’t work too hard.”

“That’s not what you taught me,” Santana quips.

“I know,” Maribel smiles. “I hope you’re at least wearing your glasses when you’re meant to. You know what all that reading can do to your eyes.”

“I am…”

“And rest, you still need it,” Maribel insists. “A tired mind won’t retain a thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

The four swivel around to find Brittany coming out of Santana’s bedroom. Her cheeks are a little pink – probably from the run over – but she’s her usual cool and collected self as she saunters over.

Santana’s never felt so relieved to see the girl! Question is though, how the hell did she pull off such an entrance?

“Brittany! Hi,” Maribel greets happily. “Are you feeling okay?”

There’s a glimpse of confusion as Brittany looks to Santana for an explanation.

“Mami, I told you she’s not sick. She was only in the bedroom to finish up a call with her mom,” Santana lies.

“Yeah. That was my bad, Mama Lopez,” Puck speaks up.

“Right,” Brittany quickly catches on. “Just my daily phone call with mom. Sorry about that, we can get carried away.”

“Oh don’t be,” Maribel smiles then glances to Santana. “Where’s my daily phone call?”

Santana fights the eye roll, “I’m clearly not as great as Brittany.”

“Now that’s a first,” Brittany smirks as she curls her arm around Santana. “I think you’re plenty great though.”

Santana finds herself blushing, “Thanks.”

There’s another pleased smile on Maribel’s face as she admires the couple. It’s a look Santana has rarely seen when it comes to her past partners and it makes her chest fill with pride. Even months later, her and Brittany still got it!

“Well, as promised this is only a quick visit,” Maribel tells them. “We really need to get going now, but while I’ve got you here: when are you coming home for a visit?”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look. They weren’t looking to make a visit for another few weeks, at least until after Spring Break. Free time is hard to come by now that they’re getting closer to the end of the semester.

“You know Abuela would like to see you both again,” Maribel adds.

Santana’s brows rise, “Would she now?”

“I think she’s warming up to things,” Maribel says vaguely but Santana gets it. “Wouldn’t hurt to come see her though. You know seeing pictures of you two together on Facebook has become a highlight for her.”

“Told you we’re cute,” Brittany jokes as she hugs Santana to her side.

“I should’ve known, she likes every single one them,” Santana quips.

“She wants to spend time with you,” Maribel explains and looks to Brittany. “She wants to spend time with the both of you.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, “Really? Has something changed?”

Maribel only shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her for yourself.”

Santana and Brittany glance at each other, both suddenly curious about Abuela’s change of heart.

“How about you come down for Spring Break?” Maribel suggests.

“Uhhh,” Santana stammers as she looks to Brittany, “We’re going to have to talk about it first. Brittany might have to – “

“Spring Break is fine with me,” Brittany shrugs.

“I thought you were planning on going home?” Santana lies – trying to get Brittany to catch on. “Spend time with your family?”

The blonde only shakes her head, “Nope. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Santana feels herself deflate; usually Spring Break is her time to finally let loose but she guesses there’s not much else she could get up to since she’s fake dating Brittany. She might as well just use the time to reinforce that she’s capable of being in a long term relationship.

By then, her and Brittany would be together for four months – that’s the longest relationship yet! Surely, that’ll have to mean something to her family.

“Well sure,” Santana sighs in defeat. “I can’t imagine spending my Spring break any other way than by returning to Lima.”

Maribel gives her a gleaming grin, “Perfect.”

\\

Once Maribel and Eddie head off to their banquet, Santana and Brittany collapse together on the couch. Puck hands them both a beer before cracking one open for himself and taking a seat opposite them.

“Way to sell it,” Puck raises his bottle. “Great work! It was cool to see you two in action like that. I can see why everyone eats this shit up. You’re pretty believable.”

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Santana quips.

“Looks like I came right on time too,” Brittany says.

“Yeah about that,” Santana looks to Brittany. “How the hell did you get into my room?”

“The window?” Brittany shrugs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t locked.

Santana’s eyes go wide, “You climbed through the window?”

“Well yeah, how else would I have gotten in? Through the vent?” Brittany jokes.

“Good thing we’re on the first floor,” Puck chuckles.

Brittany nods and clinks her bottle with his. Meanwhile Santana just stares at the blonde with her jaw slack. Not only did she run over here, she went through the effort of climbing through the window too!

The girl is crazy.

Santana doubts she would’ve gone to the same extent. No way she’d try getting her ass through a window, that’s just too much. But still, she supposes some thanking is in order.

“Well, I appreciate you going through all that,” Santana says bashfully. “I didn’t expect my mom to just pop up like that so…thanks for coming here so quickly.”

There’s a half-smirk on Brittany’s face and Santana anticipates her poking fun at how Santana’s actually thanking her for something, but it doesn’t come. Brittany just continues smiling as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for,” She tells her.

\\

Over the following days, Santana and Brittany often run into each other at the library. It’s not Santana’s preferred place to study but it’s hard for her to concentrate sometimes with Puck around.

Although Santana and Brittany are in the same place, they often sit separately.

Brittany keeps to her lone table in the study area while Santana sits somewhere in the upper level because she likes the view of the exit. It’s kind of like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that tunnel being the designated hour she makes herself study.

However, on one particular day all of the tables in the upper level are occupied. Santana finds herself scowling at the randoms before making her way down to the level beneath – where the study area is kept.

Like always, Brittany’s sitting alone near the back and Santana finds herself walking over to her without a second thought. She wasn’t planning on sharing the table with her, just maybe say hi and leave her be, but as Santana approaches the table she finds something unexpected there:

Spanish for Dummies

Intrigued, Santana’s eyes roam the table and find all sorts of similar books on the Spanish language mixed in with Brittany’s actual coursework. Then Santana takes a peek at Brittany’s laptop, trying to figure out what has her so consumed that she’s yet to notice her standing there.

There’s a little green owl going over conjugations – Spanish conjugations – and Santana watches as Brittany jots down notes as she mouths whatever words she hears through her headphones. Santana’s completely dumbfounded and pulls up a chair, the motion finally causes Brittany to jolt and turn.

Blue eyes spark with surprise before the headphones quickly come off. The girl looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Santana can’t help the fascination.

“Santana!” Brittany gasps. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s the library,” She answers simply. “I’m here to study.”

“Oh, duh. Of cour – “

“Are you teaching yourself Spanish?” Santana interrupts.

Brittany looks from her screen to the books on the table to Santana. She seems a little timid as she minimizes the program on her laptop. Santana wonders if she’s going to attempt to lie, but there’s too much evidence against her. There’s no way she could convince Santana that she’s doing otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Brittany admits with a nervous laugh. “I am.”

Santana quirks her brow, “What are you doing that for? Surely not for fun?”

Brittany shrugs, “The shows on Univision are great but I’m tired of reading subtitles.”

“Really?” Santana doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s like…a lot of work. Besides, I thought nerds like to read?”

Brittany gives her an unimpressed look, “Well…I also figured that if I knew a little Spanish then it’ll give Abuela and I something to bond over. I remember your aunts mentioning this one show she likes so I’ve kind of been binging it.”

“You’ve been binging telenovelas?” Santana asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah, the drama is addicting.”

“Oh wow,” Santana sits back. “So you’re serious about this?”

“Aren’t you?” Brittany replies.

“Yeah, but this is a new level.”

“Don’t you want to be as convincing as you can be?”

“There’s convincing and then there’s this,” Santana jokes. “Your over-achiever tendencies are showing again.”

“You jealous?” Brittany fires back. “I know how much you love it when your mom compares us.”

“I’m not jealous,” Santana turns up her nose.

Brittany smirks, “Just checking. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea.”

“Technically it was Puck’s.”

“Whatever,” Brittany says. “I’m going to do all that I can to make this work because I’m committed. You continue doing…whatever it is that you do.”

Santana tenses her jaw at the jab. It reminds her of the game they played before– the constant one-upping of each other – and she wonders if they’re still playing it.

She thinks about how she accidentally introduced herself to Brittany’s parents as her girlfriend. She remembers how Brittany now has to keep up this façade with them too thanks to the slip-up. She thinks about who this Artie guy is and why Brittany’s parents were wondering where he went.

But most importantly, she thinks about how underwhelming she is as a girlfriend.

She’s nothing like Brittany; she isn’t kind and sweet and she isn’t someone people take home to meet their parents. Santana’s the girl that helps you get over your ex, she’s the one college girls experiment with, she’s down for one night stands, down for no-strings-attached kind of hook ups – she’s not actual girlfriend material.

And oddly enough, she kind of feels bad that Brittany’s stuck with her for the time being. This fake relationship thing wasn’t meant to go beyond convincing Maribel, but that’s exactly what’s happened now thanks to her big mouth.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Santana says after the guilt starts setting in.

“I want to,” Brittany tells her.

Santana sighs; yet another reason why they’re so different.

“Learning a language just to get Abuela to like you?” Santana explains. “Don’t you think that’s kind of going overboard?”

“Not really. It’s kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well yeah, I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” Brittany replies. “Why not start now? Plus I meant what I said about the subtitles thing. It would be so much easier not having to read.”

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head, “How do you find the time? I’m swamped with studying and assignments and cheer practice. Here you are learning another language for fun.”

“I kind of have a photographic memory.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Of course you do.”

“I’m joking,” Brittany smirks. “I have a bunch of techniques that help cut down on the amount of time you’re actually studying so you don’t spend all your time doing it. I could…teach you some if you want?”

Santana lifts her chin, “I don’t need a tutor.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Brittany laughs. “Why are you always so quick to be on the defense?”

Santana crosses her arms and looks away, “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany grins. “I’ve got a study session with Puck on Thursday. I think it’s actually going to be at your place. We can not share study tips then if you want?”

Santana lets the offer roll around in her head but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.

“I might be around, depends if practice lets out on time.”

“Okay,” Brittany nods then looks at her laptop screen before glancing back at Santana who has yet to move. “So are you sitting with me now or…?”

“Oh!” Santana jolts to stand up. She gathers her bag from the ground and looks around for an empty table, but they’re all occupied.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Brittany tells her without looking away from the screen. “You can stay if you’d like.”

Santana looks around indecisively. She’d rather study alone, but that doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment. She can’t go home either with Puck around, so she guesses staying with Brittany is the next best thing.

“Okay,” Santana replies. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Brittany says.

Santana moves to the opposite end of the table while Brittany gathers her things in order for Santana to have more room on the table for hers. They sit silently like that working on their respective things for awhile, getting lost in their work.

Brittany ends up leaving the table for a moment and Santana barely notices until she’s placing a coffee in front of her.

“Oh thanks,” Santana smiles at the unexpected gesture.

Brittany doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile as she sits back down.

Another moment later when Santana gets peckish, she pulls out a bag of trail mix. She barely gives it a second thought when she places it between them so that Brittany can have some too if she wants.

\\

When Thursday comes around, Santana ends up leaving cheer practice on time for once. She’s quick to get out of there so that she can wash up and change out of her uniform before Brittany arrives, but she finds that the blonde is already there by the time she gets home.

“What up, Lopez!” Puck calls out to her as he sits with Brittany at their tiny dining table.

Brittany looks up too, her eyes moving from their work to Santana who lingers by the front door. There’s a small smile that begins to curl her lips and Santana finds herself returning it with her own little grin.

“Hi,” She greets as she kicks of her tennis shoes. It was meant for Puck but it seems that it’s directed at Brittany.

“Hey,” Brittany replies.

“How was practice?” Puck asks, just now lifting his head from the work before him.

“Got bumped up to flyer,” Santana says casually although it’s pretty exciting news. She comes around to the kitchen for a drink, “Erica apparently has brittle bones from what Coach says.”

“No way!” Puck cheers, “That’s so awesome!”

“What’s a flyer?” Brittany asks, looking between the two.

“The girls that do stunts in the air,” Santana answers.

“Oh,” Brittany’s brows rise. “That’s…isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“You worried about me?” Santana teases as she comes around to sit on the stool next to them. She crosses her legs, her cheer skirt hugging her thighs tightly. “Didn’t you say cheer was boring?”

Puck grins as he looks to Brittany for a rebuttal, but the blonde looks stumped.

Actually, the blonde looks distracted.

When Santana realizes that she’s staring at her legs, it’s like a personal victory for her. It was only a matter of time before the skirt wins!

Puck notices the distraction too and glances between his friends, a knowing smirk starting to form.

“Anyway,” Santana says as she finishes off her glass of water.

The sound of her voice breaks Brittany from her trance, but blue eyes are dark with something Santana’s familiar with but has yet to see on her. It makes her smirk; she’s missed having that kind of power over someone. It’s the sexual magnetism, it never fails her.

“Might hit the shower now,” Santana adds before looking to Brittany. “You going to be here much longer?”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Okay,” Santana can’t help the flirtatious tone now that she knows she’s got Brittany wrapped around her finger. The teasing is the most fun she’s had in awhile! “Maybe you can show me some things once you’re done with him?”

Brittany gulps, “Yeah sure.”

Puck notices what Santana’s doing and interrupts, “Uh…what’s happening right now?”

“Can it, Puckerman,” Santana waves off although her smile remains devilish. “What’s the point of having a fake girlfriend if I can’t fake flirt with them too?”

Brittany’s face goes a little red as she finally snaps back to reality.

“You call that flirting?” Brittany jokes.

“Fake flirting.”

Brittany shakes her head as she smirks, “I still don’t understand how you pick up any girls.”

“Judging by the look that’s been on your face since I walked in, I think you do.”

Puck looks back and forth between the two again like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“How about I order a pizza for later?” He suggests in attempt to break up the bickering before it escalates.

“Sounds good,” Santana says without taking her eyes off Brittany.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “Sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck replies and looks to Santana. “Go shower now. You’re distracting everyone.”

“She’s not distracting me,” Brittany said pointedly.  

Santana quirks her brow and smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, Britt-Britt.”

She lets her hips sway in that well-practiced way as she leaves the room. She doesn’t have to look to know that Brittany’s yet to stop staring and she struggles to hold back the laughter as she gets ready for a shower.

\\

Despite the teasing game she played earlier, Santana sits in Puck’s place at the tiny dining table across from Brittany with a scowl on her face. This studying thing? She’s had enough of it.

“This is pointless. Education is pointless. I’m gonna become a stripper instead,” Santana huffs.

“You'd probably make so much money!” Puck jokes from his place on the couch.

“Probably? Please,” Santana lifts her chin. “I'd make it rain every night!”

Puck laughs and throws his arm over the back of the couch to look at the pair.

“What do you think, Britt?” Puck presses with a smirk. “Think Santana would make it rain?”

Santana smirks too and looks to Brittany for answer.

“I think…I'm kind of hungry,” Brittany says. “How far away is the pizza?”

Santana’s smirk falls at the way Brittany deflects the question. Since Santana’s return, Brittany’s been a little quieter. Santana figured she’s just stuck in study mode and that she’d loosen up eventually, but she’s still waiting.

“I should probably head over now actually,” Puck realizes after checking his phone.

“Take me with you,” Santana jokes. “I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Brittany sighs, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know that’s a struggle for me.”

“True,” Brittany jokes. “Hey, if we finish this chapter tonight I’ll let you use my pretty pens to take notes?”

"Tempting, but I don't need your pretty pens,” Santana says flatly. She rests back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “What I need is alcohol and several orgasms. I clearly didn't think this fake dating thing through. I've never been so sexually deprived.”

Puck goes to grab his keys, “And on that note – I’ll be back in a few.”

Meanwhile, Brittany just snickers to herself but she isn’t laughing with Santana and it has the brunette frowning.

“What?” Santana questions as Puck leaves.

Brittany shakes her head, “It must be so hard for you to keep it in your pants for once.”

“You have no idea. Who knew that the last time would be the last time. I sure didn’t!”

Brittany shakes her head again and goes back to her work. It makes Santana feel a little on edge and straightens up in her chair.

“I'm obviously joking,” Santana adds and it makes Brittany look up. “What's it to you if I wasn't though?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany asks.

“Your interest in my sex life.”

Brittany scoffs and looks back to her work, “I'd hardly call it an interest.”

Santana folds her arms across her chest, “So you're secretly some kind of prude?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Brittany sighs and looks up at her again, “Why are we even talking about this?”

Santana notices the change in her tone and perks up. She abandons her work all together in favor of leaning in.

“Because it's way more interesting?” Santana presses. “I know you're trying to deflect, you might as well just answer. If not, I'll assume the reason it gets your panties all in a twist is because you're secretly jealous.”

“I'm definitely not jealous.”

“So it’s the other option,” Santana says. “You’re a prude.”

“No!” Brittany huffs. She softens when she realizes she raised her voice. There’s a timidness to her when she explains, “I just, I guess I believe in developing the feelings part first before the physical happens.”

Santana softens too but for a different reason. It’s more so confusion than anything else.

"Why?” She asks.

“Because with feelings it's better,” Brittany says simply.

“Are you kidding?” Santana quips. “It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Brittany looks at her sympathetically. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. God, who hurt you?”

Santana didn’t expect her comment to strike a nerve. The memory of short blonde hair and a cunning smile sneaks its way past Santana’s defenses as she mutters, “One guess.”

Brittany looks at her curiously before something clicks, “Oh. The girl.”

Santana doesn’t like where this is going and pushes away the overwhelming feelings that beg to bust through. She walls herself up, holds her chin high and swallows back the lump.

“Yeah well,” Santana brushes off. “I think it's pretty unrealistic to go out there thinking every potential lay has to be relationship material first. Where's the fun in that?”

Brittany continues to eye her like she’s wounded and Santana hates it.

“The fun part is getting to know someone first so when it does happen,” Brittany pauses as she bites her lip. “It's meaningful.”

Santana averts her eyes, because staring into Brittany’s makes her feel far too exposed. Instead she retreats in on herself to place she’s comfortable, she takes the attention off of her.

“Gross. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic,” Santana jokes.

Brittany sighs through a soft smile, “Call me old fashioned I guess.”

“Super old fashioned,” Santana quips. “Like, are you telling me you've never had a steamy quickie with a random? Everybody's got one.”

Brittany looks away and as she smirks, “Of course I have. I’m not that innocent.”

Santana perks up, “Really? Miss Goodie Two Shoes getting down and dirty without before being properly courted? God, I want details…”

Brittany snickers, “Not happening.”

“What?” Santana shifts in her seat excitedly. “Come on, what's a little girl talk between friends or are you the type that doesn’t kiss and tell because lame.”

Brittany looks up at her and smirks, “You saying we're friends?”

“Will it get you talking?”

Brittany laughs, “We should get back to work now. You've derailed us for long enough.”

“Come on, Britt-Britt,” Santana coos jokingly. “We've been at it for hours. I'm burnt out, sober and in dire need of sex.”

“None of that is my problem.”

“Sure it is,” Santana jokes. “The least you can do is tell me a couple of your kinky stories to get me through the night.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Brittany gives her a look, but Santana just bats her eyelashes. It makes Brittany laugh and she softens once again.

“Actually, I might be able to help you out.”

Santana sits straighter, “It was only a matter of time…”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Get over yourself. Not every girl on campus wants you, including me.”

Santana laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Britt-Britt.”

“Anyway,” Brittany continues, “I'm talking about a swanky party – a ball even.”

“A ball, you say?” Santana’s interest is piqued.

“Totally.”

“You've got my attention…”

“Well, there’s going to be an open bar, free food, an excuse to dress up and let loose. That ticks off two out of three on your list.”

Santana quirks a brow, “And the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There's gotta be a catch.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany slumps. “It's the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

“The what?” Santana deadpans.

“The Brainiacs’ Ball,” Brittany clarifies. “It's open to all the academic decathlon clubs across the city, this year we’re hosting. The team with the highest winning percentage is named and also the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is given out. It's the biggest night for the club.”

“Oh, hell no,” Santana chuckles. “There’s not enough free alcohol in the world to get me to go to that. Count me out.”

Brittany starts to frown, “What? Why?”

Santana shakes her head, “One of your matches was enough. I'm not going to a party where I have to be surrounded by all of you at once.”

“It won't be that bad,” Brittany sighs. “It's a night for celebrating. No trivia unless you count the bad puns you might hear.”

“I've seen the guys on your team,” Santana explains. “I can't be liable for the feelings I'd definitely hurt if I were to be around them. I’d be triggered by pocket protector.”

“But you'll mostly be with me,” Brittany tries.

��That doesn’t really help your case.”

Brittany gives her a look, “Well, I kind of need you to go.”

“You need me to go?”

“Well yeah, I don't want to be the only one there without a date,” Brittany reasons. “Plus wouldn't it be suspicious if you didn't go considering we're a thing?”

Santana lets out a laugh, thinking that she’s finally caught on.

“So that it explains it,” She says.

“Explains what?”

“The coffee the other day, sharing study tips, being here,” Santana goes on, “You’ve been setting yourself up to ask me to your dumb ball.”

Brittany tenses, “'First of all, it's not dumb.”

“Sorry. I should've said nerdy,” Santana clarifies.

“I wasn’t doing those things for this,” Brittany tells her. “I was… I did them to be nice. We don’t always have to be at each other. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.”

Santana shakes her head as she gets to thinking. She knows Brittany’s cunning too, she knows that she can play games so who’s to say she wasn’t playing this time?

“I'm not going,” Santana replies. “You can tell people I'm sick or something.”

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “Right. So this relationship thing only works when it's in your favor?”

Santana frowns at the harshness of Brittany’s tone, something that doesn’t feel right coming from the blonde.

“What are you talking about?” Santana huffs. “That’s not – “

“We always do what you want,” Brittany interrupts. “Whatever makes you look good but this one time I ask you for something and it's just a flat out no?”

Brittany’s face has gone a little red and Santana’s further surprised – she didn’t think it was this big of a deal. She doesn’t grasp why Brittany’s so worked up all of sudden. Why would she want someone there with her if they didn’t want to be there in the first place?

“Look, it's better if I don't go because if one dork in clunky black glasses wearing suspenders and a hideous bowtie crosses paths with me I won't be able to contain myself,” Santana argues. “I'll end up hurting someone's feelings and you said it yourself, it's a night for celebration.”

Brittany looks at her like she’s hit a new low. Hell, maybe she just did.

“You're unbelievable,” Brittany huffs as she stands and starts gathering her things.

“What?” Santana watches her with a sudden ache in her chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Clearly,” Brittany mutters. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“All because I don’t want to go?”

Brittany shakes her head, another bitter laugh escaping her.

“No,” She says gravely. “It’s because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Santana tenses at the way her words drip with disdain, but at the same time it puts her on the defense.

“Well sorry that I’m not like you,” Santana argues. “Sorry I can’t just slip into character with ease and be your perfect fake girlfriend whenever you want. Sorry I’m not on all the time like you are.”

Brittany just stares at her for a moment, studying Santana’s face before she speaks again.

“Just when I think I’ve figured you out,” Brittany continues. “Just when I think you’re actually a half-decent person and that maybe beneath this prickly exterior of yours, there’s actually something – someone – deserving of…of a friend you go and prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Santana slumps back in her chair, dejected and defeated.  

Even if Brittany didn’t physical hit her, those words sure did. She can’t even speak as she watches Brittany gather the last of her things and storm out. What’s worse is that she swears she sees blue eyes tinging red just before she turns away.

Santana slaps her hand at the table when the door slams shut behind Brittany. She instantly feels the sting of wood on her open palm.

Why? Why does she always have to screw things up like this?

\\

Puck comes through the door just a minute later, looking confused as well.

“So I just passed Britt in the hall,” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, she left.”

Puck slowly closes the door behind him, “Why?”

“Because,” Santana lets out a long puff of air. She feels the lump forming again in her throat, strange and unwelcome. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Dude,” His face falls. “Please tell me you didn’t try to make a move on her. The games earlier were cute and all but – “

“No,” Santana quickly answers. “I didn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?” Puck asks. “She looked really upset.”

Santana presses her lips tightly together, she’s almost ashamed to admit the truth.

“She wanted me to go to some ball with her,” Santana says dismissively. “I told her no.”

“You told her no?” Puck quirks a brow.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Puck frowns. “After all the stuff she’s done for you, you can’t?”

“Look, I can see where I fucked up okay?” Santana snaps. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Puck shakes his head as he backs off. “You really are an idiot.”

Santana agrees but she doesn’t tell him that.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” Santana tries convincing him. “It’ll be nothing but those academic decathlon nerds and not just the ones from Brittany’s team. It’ll be like ten times that! They’ll be from all over the city and you know how I am around the general public especially when I’m provoked. I could screw up and expose us both. It’s too risky.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, just listens to her excuses.

“I can’t do it,” Santana tells him with finality. “I can’t. Brittany might be pissed at me right now, but she’ll see it’s for the best. I’d just ruin her night because I don’t know how to act anyway. She’ll come around, she has to.”

“Sure Santana,” Puck dismisses and goes to flip open the pizza box. “So…does this mean I can have her pizza too?”

Santana just shakes her head, “Shut up.”

#Hate to Date #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #Enemies to Lovers #fake dating au

[matryosika]

shoot me, chapter V

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V

word count for this chapter — 3.7 k

warnings — exhibitionism, fingering, mild humilliation, dirty talk, daddy kink, sort of orgasm denial?

note — this chapter was more focused on describing where the story it's going to go next. also some insights as to what changbin has been thinking the whole time.

i want to thank you all for waiting, once again, and next week i'll be completely free from school so that's nice! i think there are a very few chapters left for this, so stay tuned :-)

taglist:@cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen

that night was all it took for you and changbin to start fucking almost every single day. at arthur's house when he wasn't around, his place, his parent's place, his car... the hunger you both had for each other was insatiable and you couldn't really understand why.

sex was awesome with him, he was perfect for you in that aspect. but every time he opened his mouth... god, you just wanted to get into a fist fight with him. he was cocky, arrogant, proud, kind of stupid, egocentric, self-centered... long story short, an asshole. you disliked him so much but maybe that was the reason behind you being completely at his mercy in bed.

"so, i was thinking" changbin went as the two of you entered the elevator of arthur's company ready to leave. he was nice enough to offer you a ride to arthur's house because you had lunch plans with hyejin, your sister "how about dinner tonight?"

you looked at him confused, a slight smirk appearing at the corners of your lips "do i look like i'm interested in getting to know you?" you asked, playfully. you could see from the side how hard he swallowed, licking his lips and trying to gain composure after how you mocked him for inviting you to something so casual as a dinner can be.

"we spend a lot of time together anyways" he responded "i was trying to be nice with you"

"you couldn't be nice even if you tried" you replied, pushing the botton of the building's first floor "we both know we are fucking and that's it. i'm leaving in a couple of months, you will never see me again... no need to get to know eachother"

changbin made a grin as he snapped his neck, releasing the tension of his shoulders. you wouldn't know this, but it actually took him quite courage to invite you.

"dinner" you whispered, laughing faintly "god, men are so pathetic thinking we are all waiting for them to be our charming prince when in reality you are all useless"

"really?" he asked, watching as the numbers of the little screen decreased, indicating that there were 7 floors left. "even me?"

"specially you, changbin" you said, crossing your arms without parting your gaze from the doors "all cocky and arrogant, if you didn't know how to use that mouth for something else you would be a pity"

suddenly, the elevator stopped and the lights were dimmed. you glanced right at changbin, who was pressing one of the elevator buttons as it shuted down "what the fuck are you doing?"

"you don't get tired do you?" he mumbled, approaching your body. the elevator was painfully small to escape, so your back soon met the other wall that was now suffocating the both of you "you never get tired of opening that stupid mouth of you"

"i don't know what you did to the elevator but you better make it work again" you said, swallowing hard. changbin's thigh parted yours, his jeans making contact with your clothed core immediatly "i have plans and i'm not going to be late because you have the libido of a 14 year old who can't control himself"

"when has that bothered you, princess?" his lips approached your ear, nipping at your lobe, giving you goosebumps on your skin "because as far as i can remember, you are always who ends up begging for me to fuck her"

you looked right at changbin as his lips left your neck.

his eyes.

his fucking eyes.

you couldn't count how many times you had cum only because he made eye-contact while he was fucking you. his gaze transmitted a lot of things that his mind and mouth failed to do.

"is my princess already too needy?" he asked, laughing. you snapped back from his gaze and soon realized that your hips were already grinding against the end of his thigh. your cheeks turned bright red as the arrogance you showed just a few seconds ago was already gone.

"i can't fucking deal with you" you spitted, your whole body sweating due to the lack of air conditioner and how aroused you were by changbin's closeness.

"look at how pathetic you look, y/n" he growled, his voice getting deeper. you had fucked with changbin enough to learn his body language when he started to feel aroused. his voice would get deeper and lower, his eyes would get darker, his breathing would get heavy... you knew every detail there is to be known about him. "i can feel through your skin how hot you are, i bet your tight cunt is throbbing isn't it?"

you licked your lips, trying to part your eyes from his in an attempt to lower your libido "my poor princess must be dripping wet" he pouted, his thigh still making contact with you but the rest of his body was mere inches away from yours "i bet my pretty princess is just thinking about daddy pounding into her so fucking hard right here in this elevator"

he knew what he was doing.

he knew how much you loved it when he dirty talked like that, specially referring himself in third person. you couldn't really know why, but it drove you insane.

"changbin" you moaned, your head falling back as your hips moved slowly against him "if you are going to do something, just do it now"

"but i'm useless" he laughed, now using your own words to make you even needier "i'm a cocky arrogant asshole, you said it yourself"

"yeah, was i wrong?" you asked him, whining at the feeling of him withdrawing his thigh from your cunt.

"you just don't learn anything" his body approached the set of buttons next to the elevator gates, ready to press the same button he did just mere seconds ago.

"stop" you mumbled, approaching him as fast as you could. your whole body jumping into his embrace as you planted an aggresive kiss into his lips.

changbin's neediness only made you more wet, his hands on your ass gripping it as he landed a few spanks on it "who was the one who had the libido of a 14 year old?" he muttered in between kisses, his voice sending shivers to your spine and core.

your hands traveled instinctively to his belt, trying to release his painful bulge that was now rubbing against your pubic area.

"mhmh no" he breathed, landing you on the floor as he turned you around so that your back could meet the wall for support "i have a meeting after this, you are going home. i can't afford to ruin my clothes"

with greedy hands, and while he was on his knees for you, your panties were now gone of your body "such a pretty princess" he moaned, covering you in kisses from your legs to your thighs "open up your legs a little bit more for me"

and you did as he ordered, your whole body shaking in anticipation of contact. your breathing was strangled and it was getting really hard to swallow. your heart was beating ten times faster as a trail of thoughts flooded your mind "are there cameras in here? what if the elevator starts working again and the doors open? is it going to start working again in the first place? fuck, this feels so good"

"you still think i'm useless?" changbin asked, a smile appearing on his face as your whole body squirmed at the feeling of his breath against your wetness "i can make you all this worked up in a matter of seconds and you still think i'm useless"

"just shut the fuck up, please" you moaned, gripping his black hair and sinking his lips against your clit "fuck, just shut up"

changbin's hands held to the back of your knees for support as both of your hands were on his head, trying to get him closer to where you needed him the most. changbin's way of eating you out was needy and messy, his tongue and lips tasting every single part there was of you down there, licking all your wetness and making sure to make contact in the places he knew would make you feel good.

your hips moved in circular motions against his mouth as you were riding his face, changbin's eyes fixed on how your chest was moving stupidly fast.

"right there daddy, right there" you moaned, your head reincoporating to make eye-contact with him, immediatly making your hips move even faster.

"right here?" he hummed, sending waves of pleasure throughout your whole body that was barely standing, your knees threatening to give up any time.

"changbin" you moaned, feeling how his fingers made their way through your legs and into your inner thighs "god you make me feel so fucking good"

changbin's cock twitched at your words, making him growl against your body as his tongue increased its pace, now accompanied with two of his fingers pounding inside you.

"daddy" you cried, your legs shaking as one of your hands left his dark hair to support yourself even more by resting on the lowall "i think i'm going to cum"

as you breathed out the last words, changbin withdrew from your cunt with a proud smirk growing in his face as he witnessed the sight of tears streaming down your cheeks.

"too bad i'm just a cocky useless man" he mumbled, one of his hands reaching the exact same button he pressed to make the elevator stop, only to push it again.

the lights of the elevator turned on as well as the engine, the air conditioner now working. your gaze could catch a glimpse of the floor you were in, but your mind was too fucked out to even re-think your decision.

before changbin could get up from his knees, your hands traveled all the way to his hair as you aggressively grinded against his lips again, the now threatening knot to come undone at any second.

6th floor.

the arousal from being in a public space, the possibility of being caught, changbin's gaze, your inner frustration and the faint sounds of changbin moaning against your skin only made you needier.

5th floor.

with strength, changbin's nails gripped the back of your thighs, his tongue accelerating the pace to match the one from your hips.

4th. floor.

"fuck i-" you moaned, tears uncontrollably streaming down your cheeks and getting lost at the fabric of your dress. changbin's gaze admiring your whole body was the last thing you needed tu cum.

3rd. floor.

"changbin" you cried as the knot came undone. his growls were coming out louder than ever, the excitement of being at a public place intoxicating all his senses. you could feel yourself dripping into his mouth, something that hadn't really happened before. changbin's lips never left your core, licking clean all your juices as his hands now caressed the back of your thighs.

2nd. floor.

"fuck" you cried, changbin standing up from his knees as his lips and chin glistened with your own fluids.

1st. floor.

carefully, he took the panties you had worn that day and he stuffed them in one of the pockets of his black jeans.

"give them back" you whispered, your voice raspy as you spent the last 5 minutes with your mouth opened. changbin gave you a side smile as you fixed your dress and hair, standing in front of the gates as if nothing had happened mere seconds ago.

your breathing was fast, just like your heartbeat, and your skin was glistening with sweat.

the doors opened.

five men and a woman were waiting desperately for it, almost running inside as if they were already late for whatever they had to do. before you and changbin could even get out, he pulled you in for a kiss so you could taste a glimpse of your own juices on his lips right in front of them.

he kissed you at a public place.

not just a public place, but a place where people knew him and you.

before the doors closed again, changbin stepped out of the elevator while pressing gently your lower back as he guided your movements to start walking. you were still in shock about everything that happened, specially the last part of it.

with a swift movement, he approached your ear as he was walking besides you, whispering the words you'll never forget

"next time, learn to watch your mouth when you are speaking with the man who owns you"

[Changbin's POV]

the thought of you was driving him insane. the sight he got from you at the elevator was something that would be tattooed in his mind for the rest of his days; the way you eagerly chased your orgasm using him for your own pleasure as droplets of sweat toured your whole body, the sound of your whines and moans as you were approaching the highest point of your arousal, the gaze you gave him just right before you came undone on his lips... he had fucked too many women before, never bothered to learn the name of any of them. but you, every single part of the way you moved, talked and acted was like an invitation to get lost into a territory he knew wasn't supposed to explore.

and that only made him want to explore it even more.

"have you talked to jisung yet?" bang chan asked him, sitting down in the couch right besides him as he extended him a can of beer.

"he won't talk to me" changbin replied without even looking at him.

"it's been almost 3 weeks since the party" chan argued, relaxing his whole body on the couch as he took a sip of his beer "i know he has been texting you, he showed me the messages"

"okay, yeah, he has been trying to talk to me" changbin muttered, annoyed "but i don't want to talk to him just now, alright?"

"look" chan said, reincorporating into the couch to be closer with him "jisung didn't know that you liked the-"

"i don't like her" changbin interrumpted, making a gesture with his hand so chan would stop talking.

"then why wouldn't you talk to jisung then?"

changbin made a pause and bit his lower lip, trying to come up with a lie quickly.

"why are you acting like a fucking highscooler anyways, changbin?" chan stormed, leaving the can of beer in the the coffee table by the couch "seriously, all you have been talking about for the past month is her. there's nothing wrong with liking someone, you don't have to make such a fucking big deal about it"

"i don't know" changbin slightly grunted in frustration "i don't know"

"do whatever you want to deal with your emotions but just talk to jisung, please" chan pleaded, resting one of his hands on changbin's shoulders "i won't give you any dating advice but please, for the love of god, leave your fucking jealousy and possesiveness issues and talk to him"

changbin was left alone at chan's living room as he finished his can of beer, reflecting on some of the things the brown-haired just said.

"what's the big deal about it? i'm fucking obssessed with her and i can't do anything about it"

[flashback]

"changbin, can i spare some of your time for a minute?" the old man asked as y/n and changbin's parents were leaving his office. changbin looked at him with half-lidded eyes as they were leaving to grab some lunch together. "we will be joining you in a while, i just have to talk with him about work"

his parents smiled as they continue on walking towards the hall, followed by the long-haired woman changbin met at the bar last night"

"you like what you see?" arthur asked, following changbin's gaze who was now fixed on y/n as she walked through the corridor.

"excuse me?" changbin cleared his throat, unsure of what to answer to a very specific and blunt question.

"do you know her?" arthur asked, the environment of the room changing drastically as he persecuted the young man with questions.

"why would i know her, sir" changbin replied.

"you were looking at her as if she was familiar"

"no" he answered, trying to keep his posture so arthur couldn't catch any glimpse of his awkwardness.

"look, changbin" arthur mumbled in a sort of playful tone, landing a hand on changbin's back as he palmed it slightly "you know i trust you, right?"

changbin nodded.

"i don't know how much time she will be staying here, but i would really love for her to have a healthy time while she is in korea" the man said, smiling as if changbin was understanding his words "meaning i don't want her getting with any man around here, you understand me?"

"yes, sir"

"and that's why i want you to get close to her while she is here, so you can make sure she is not... doing anything she isn't supposed to"

changbin licked his lips and nodded, kind of unsure on what answers to give since arthur had never approached him with such a serious topic.

"and that includes you" he said as his grip on changbin's shoulder went rougher "i don't want you near her with any intentions other than to take care of her as if she was your family"

"right" changbin agreed.

"what would people say if they saw my daughter engaging in... that kind of behaviors, drinking, smoking, doing whatever the hell you young people do before marriage" arthur clicked his tongue as his head moved from side to side "i brought her here because my fiancee told me to, but y/n can be quite problematic and i don't want her to ruin my status"

this wasn't about her, this is about him.

"i understand" changbin replied, a hint of anger sparking through his veins at his words.

"i don't want her to distract you either" arthur continued "the minute i see you getting closer to her in a way you are not supposed to, you are out of here"

arthur's words were serious, but his tone was playful and even teasing, as if the two of them were just joking about casual things and not the probability of losing the future changbin worked his ass for.

"that last part is just out of pride" arthur smiled "she is my daughter after all"

[y/n's pov]

"are you alright?" hyejin asked you as you had barely touched your food.

the thought of the kiss changbin gave you right after exiting the elevator was completely engraved in your brain. it was risky, it was innapropiate, and it was something that felt amazing in ways you couldn't even begin to explain.

that shouldn't be happening.

you were just fucking with him because 1) you liked it and 2) because you liked the idea of fucking someone your father thrusted with his life.

it was like some sort of deranged payback for all those years he wasn't around. the idea of someone putting at risk his loyalty to arthur for you was exciting enough, and that was the main reason of why you continued the game.

or so you thought.

"what do you know about changbin?" you asked her, bluntly. she laughed and covered his mouth as particles of food made their way out as she gasped.

"do you like him?" hyejin asked, fixing his hair behind her ear as she landed her chopsticks on the plate "i didn't think he was your type"

"i don't like him" you replied, taking an extra effort to hide any hint of nervousness that could be seen by her "i'm just interested in knowing why my father adores him that much"

"well" hyejin started "i have never really talked to him, like ever. he has been around for as long as i can remember but we had never gotten along. i believe its because of the age difference, you know?"

you nodded.

"his parents are arthur's best friends since college, maybe, i'm not too sure" she hummed as his eyes looked everywhere on the restaurant, trying to remember more information about the man himself "there's not really much to know about him anyways. i went to school with one of his friends's brother, his last name is Han"

jisung's brother, the guy at the party.

"we worked together a lot in university and we would often get together to make projects and stuff, uh... changbin was there often too, because of jisung. he really has a bad reputation with women, you know?"

you licked your lips and took a sip of water, intrigued.

"they were barely adults at that age but they would often talk about all the women they allegedly fucked" hyejin laughed "that man has a longer list than i do and i'm 26"

the memory of changbin with that girl at chan's party strucked your mind, and a lot of questions started to flood your mind. is he fucking someone else while he is fucking with me?

not that it mattered, because this was solely for the sex, right?

"he is cute, i'll give you that" hyejin followed, ignoring the comment you made earlier about how you didn't actually liked him "but if i were you, i wouldn't go down there. not only is he some sort of casanova but i also heard arthur threatening about being careful around you"

you opened your eyes, completely surprised. "what do you mean?"

"the very first days you arrived here" hyejin mumbled, his mouth full of food " i was going to ask arthur about some project we have in mind and before i could enter to his office, i heard this little chat with him. the usual, you know, but he did told him something along the lines of being careful with his job and future regarding you"

you swallowed hard.

the kiss had now even more impact than it did before.

the idea of arthur threatening changbin was all in your head at first, you didn't actually believed he would do such a thing. but hyejin saying this so casually only made your soul ablaze.

changbin wasn't supposed to be doing any of the things he was doing for you and he was still risking them.

whether it was lust, ambivalence or obsession, the thought of him breaking rules only made you feel a current of electricity through your veins.

falling in love wasn't part of your plans, but ruining arthur's pride was.

and changbin was the best option for this.

#stray kids smut #stray kids angst #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader #changbin smut #kpop angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz imagines #skz oneshots #changbin #kpop smut

[zeldasayer]

Futile Devices — Chapter 5

A Javier Peña/Call Me By Your Name AU

gif by @pascalplease

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Everything has changed since your father’s book with Javier was rejected, just as you and Javier were getting close.

Warnings: SMUT — age gap (reader is of age), inexperienced!reader themes, gagging, praise (use of “little girl”), vocal Javi, squirting. Angst. 18+

Masterlist | Chapter 4

——

Vita Murphy was born on April 9th 1963 in Milan, Italy to American architects Connie and Steve Murphy, who met your mother by chance one afternoon at a market in town. Taking a liking to Connie, Daisy invited her and her husband to one of their legendary parties. Your mother and father loved to entertain and invite interesting people into their home for cocktails and Daisy's delicious cooking. Your parents celebrated every holiday, birthday, or life event they could think of, any excuse to dress up, string lights through the fruit trees in the back yard and drink in excess to your father's extensive record collection. As a child, you missed most of the parties, having been put to bed just as they were taking off, but when Connie and Steve arrived to your mother's 35th birthday after meeting in the market, and saw you sitting alone at your piano, Connie knew that next time she would bring her daughter.

Even at 13 you felt the pull that Vita had. You watched as she floated around your home, seeming even more comfortable in it than you were, stealing sips of wine and hors d'oeuvres before noticing you and asking if you had ever had your tarot cards read.

"It's my favourite game." You spat out nervously unaware.

Vita just smiled with a nod, "Yeah. Mine, too."

And from then on, you were inseparable.

"She didn't cry, she sang!" Connie always said about her daughter's birth. "It was the happiest day of my life."

Made in her mother's stunning image, Vita had the most incredible large eyes and long blonde hair she cut only once a year. Connie knew at a young age that her daughter was special, as a believer in the universe and the infinite lives a person could have, she knew her daughter was an old soul put on Earth to love and protect the new souls, the tired souls, those who were born somewhere and didn't know why they were born there. She knew it would be quite the burden for one girl, but she saw it quickly in her daughter that it was what she was meant to do. A healer, a listener, someone who understood what many feared no one ever could. Vita attracted those who needed her, and in that, unfortunately led to a large turnover in friendships. Vita was used to strong, short bursts of complete female unity, where she loved you undyingly and provided the support that you needed to pass through a difficult period of your life. But not with you, there was no passing through with you. Not even during your extended stays in the United States or even now that you are gone most of the year in college, could your friendship be weakened.

"It's because you were siblings!" Connie exclaimed in a tipsy state on a summer night long ago. "In another life."

"Do you think?" Vita asked, turning to you.

You believed in Vita and her mother's cosmic knowing, and relied on it more than you were willing to admit. "Of course."

"You were brother and sister." Connie said before taking a sip of her wine, and going quiet.

She always goes quiet — one moment she will tell you how your whole life is going to be and the next, just as she's about to get into the details, she switches off without any explanation, claiming she "doesn't really know this stuff, anyway."

It always makes Vita roll her eyes, because she knows that's not the case for she is just like her mother. Vita saw everything and found people she couldn't read extremely frustrating. Vita has this otherworldly understanding of people and a patience unmatched by anyone you have ever met. She knows how devastating it can be to be seen, but how crucial in life it is to not only be understood, but accepted. Vita also knew how often you spent up in your head, in your make believe world where nothing could hurt you. How your lust for life was so consuming it left you unable to move, too afraid to start because it always felt like you were doing it on your own. Your best friend once told you with tears in her eyes that she wished she knew what planet you were from so you would have the peace of mind that you weren’t completely alone, and you thanked her because sometimes that is enough.

Vita is the human embodiment of home.

So why can't you tell her what is going on? Why does your throat close up every time you want to talk about Javier in any capacity? Why does your throat close up when you think about Javier at all? A part of you wants to run barefoot straight to Vita’s house and up to her room, beg her to help you understand your own emotions. Why are you so enamored by a man who always makes it so hard to breathe? How he manages to make you so hyper aware of your movements, yet he isn't even looking at you. How he's never there when you want him but you would drop everything to be close to him once more. You would drop everything just to be what he wanted again and it makes you sick to your stomach. It's like watching yourself at 15 all over again, when you believed the most important thing you could be was desired. Hell is the mind of a fifteen year old girl, and you thought those days were gone forever.

The tension in the house doesn't make it any easier. You and Daisy tiptoeing around your father and house guest. The quiet meals, that used to be your favourite parts of the day now leave you cold even in the relentless summer sun. You spend most of the time, sitting across from Javier, staring at him. Waiting for him to look at you so you can ask him what's wrong with your eyes. To let him know that he can come to you, that you want him to. But he never does.

Christian and Javier lock themselves away in the library most days and your mother tells you they still haven't come up with anything new. You're startled every night when you're woken by their raised voices traveling through the halls and you hold your breath until you hear their roaring laughter and you know they must be drunk.

You don't see Javier much these days, but you don't see anyone for that matter. Resorting to lazy floats in the pool by yourself or reading alone in the cool living room to escape the heat. It feels as though, if you can't be around Javier you can’t be around anyone at all and sometimes you can make that make sense but most of the time you ignore the irritating notion that you may really be going crazy.

But what was supposed to happen? Javier would fuck you and realize right then and there he couldn’t live without you? It’s so embarrassing because it’s true. You can't talk to Vita because you're embarrassed to admit you wanted to be more and tonight after another lonely dinner where you might as well have been eating alone — you dumped your dishes in the sink and slipped out to the back gardens for your abandoned childhood swing set. And you finally cried.

“Fuck!” You scream up at the sky and you kick your legs back.

As you create your momentum, swinging back and forth you can’t help but succumb to your own erratic emotions and you wonder why it has to be this way. Why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Why must you always need more? Why is it so goddamn exhausting to keep yourself neutral? You’ve never felt sad, only despair. Never angry, only full of rage. You’ve never been embarrassed, you only know humiliation. And you hate to think this way because you always search for your brain for a time you were truly happy, but you always come up empty.

Something is always missing. Something is always missing and you’re always alone but you can’t even be upset because you do it to yourself.

It feels like you’re taking the world on by yourself simply because you are. Because you feel like you need to, this is your burden and yours only. You must suffer to be rewarded for one day you will be able to walk in the sun and be alright.

But to what end? When will you be rewarded?

You want it to be Javier. Just being close to him feels like the reward. The energy you feel just sitting next to him, those eyes you want to swim in, the perfect angle of his nose and the voice that drips from his lips. It must be him, but he won’t even talk to you.

You spend the evening locked in this thought, the concept of the reward — you can convince yourself it isn't real but your heart aches for it knows it is the truth. Which is why Javier is so difficult. He is the one and it makes you dizzy with excitement, but you’re not sure if you can trust it. There is this pull of doubt at the corners of every thought because he still doesn’t know you. Though he could. If he just said the word, you’d spill every story, every thought, every idea you’ve ever had. How you long for more. More life. More love. More sex. More understanding. To truly be alive, not just living. Who could understand that better then him?

——

You like the way the cold ground feels under your bare feet as you walk back up to the house in the darkness. You feel lighter, now that you’ve cried and the house that sits quiet and empty is suddenly comforting. This is your life, your home. Javier is just a tourist and he should be so lucky to exist in the same space as you. But maybe this is you just channeling arrogance as to not be so sad, focusing on what he’s missing instead of your desperate need for him to actually see it.

“Claude?” You hear from the living room at the first creak of the wooden stairs.

You tiptoe through the corridor and into the living room to find Javier taming his fluffy hair with a yawn. Your jaw tightens.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I fell asleep.” He says and you just stand there, crossing your arms over your light blue summer dress. “Can you come sit?”

Shit.

“I don’t know Javi, I’m tired.” You shrug.

“Look, I just want to apologize.” He says, standing up and turning toward you, “We had sex and I haven’t spoken to you since and that’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t see because he looks down like he’s ashamed. You believe him. Gliding across the living room, you watch him in his usual ensemble — tight black t-shirt, soft cotton pants and his thick black framed glasses, and sit back down with him, on your side.

“It’s just everything with this book, I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety.” He says, his eyes cast down, resting his head on his fist propped up by the top of the couch.

You nod for you understand, but it hurt. “You didn’t even look at me this week.”

“I know.” He sighs, “I know, but I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him, biting your cheek to contain your excitement.

“I miss you even while we live in the same house.” He says, looking away. His hand fidgets against his knee. “If you’re not at breakfast, or you spend your day here, reading in the living— I miss you when you aren’t around me.”

You wish there was a way to burn these words into your brain so you could have them at any time, to hear his voice say these things to you. This validation that he has felt the same after these long, horrible days of practically ignoring each other.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn Javier’s gaze back to you, and study him as you feel the fine hairs of his beard under your fingertips. He looks tired, even behind his glasses you can see the deep longing for rest in his eyes. You don’t think he’s used to rejection either.

Javier leans into your touch with a soft hum and you could almost lose your breath from the tenderness. You want to hold him, bury your nose in his hair and tell him to rest with you. Just laying together, his big body between your legs and head on your stomach, until the inevitable rising of the sun. You can hardly bring yourself to imagine how beautiful Javi must look by the light of the morning.

“Come here.” You whisper, though it’s barely audible, as you rise up on your knees so you are flush against his side, looking down at him. Before you kiss him, Javier kisses you, and your hand floats down from his cheek to wrap your arms around his glorious neck.

Javi wastes no time, his one big hand dragging up your spine to squeeze the back of your neck, holding your against him. And with the other, letting his thick fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass. You can feel the desperation in his skin, and you want all of it, this exquisite juxtaposition of feeling both safe in his arms but that he could also crush you with his desire.

What was life before this? Before Javier’s thick moans into your mouth, his heavy wet finger tips tracing. He takes up all the air in the room and you don’t stop him. He is everything.

You break off the kiss for a moment and remove his glasses. “I missed you too.”

“I’ve only touched you once, but I have spent every day thinking about you. Kissing you. Having you.” He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “It’s all I’ve wanted, every day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.” You ask, and you can’t help the confused look on your face but Javier doesn’t respond. You search his face anyway longing for something heartfelt, like he was locked up in his head, consumed by his feelings for you, like you were. Instead, he kisses you again. Swallowing any upsetting feeling you’ve had since you’ve touched him last.

Kissing Javier is a soft pleasure all in its own, but you want more. More skin. More contact. To ache around him again. To show him how much you truly missed him.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper, your palm trailing flat down the man’s chest. You get lower and lower, kissing along the beautiful exposed skin of his neck, dragging your hand down the soft black fabric until you reach the drawstring of Javi’s pants.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you feel his body stiffen as he looks around.

You nod, pushing your legs out from underneath you so you’re laying flat on the couch, your face practically in his lap. “Just relax.”

Javier lets all the air escape from his chest as you pull on the pants and he lifts his hips so you can get them down his thighs.

He watches you with heavy eyes, his mouth falling open as you kiss up the underside of his length, hardening under your lips. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you rest your head on Javier’s lower abdomen lazily, feeling him grow even more in your hand as you stroke him.

“Shit..” He says through his teeth, smoothing your hair back out of your face for you.

You continue to take your time teasing him. Humming in delight as Javier can barely contain himself, thrusting up into your hand shamelessly. He keeps his eyes closed, hands in your hair and you can feel the relief radiating from him. He was desperate for touch.

“Oh, Javi.” You coo, as his head falls back on to the couch, fucking up into your hand and you swear you can hear him whimper. This feeling of power over Javier is absolutely intoxicating, to feel so disconnected from him all week then to have him almost pathetically trying to relieve himself with any bit of human contact you’ll allow him.

“Look what you do to me.” He growls. “Fucking your ha-and...”

Javier reaches around, taking his length from your delicate grasp and pushes you lightly into his pelvis.

“You’re so fucking — soft.” He grunts, tapping his throbbing head against your lips before dragging his cock along your face.

You smile, letting him. Revealing your tongue for a moment to tease him once more.

“Thought you wanted to take care of me.” He says, his voice tight and you feel his hand in the back of your hair as he continues to run his length along your face. Grinning as his grip tightens, he doesn’t hurt you, it’s just about the control.

“I do.” You moan, as Javi softly pushes and pulls your head in a rhythmic motion, just hovering over him.

“Open your mouth.” He mumbles and you do what you’re told.

Javier motions your neck down, pulling you slowly over him, taking just his head in your mouth. “Is this okay sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You whimper around him, your thighs involuntarily rubbing together, searching for some kind of relief from the arousing pull of his voice.

“Yeah? F-Fuck your pretty mouth.” He grunts, thrusting up slowly, stretching your lips to accommodate his thickness. You close your eyes, focusing on the fullness, calming your breath to take him.

“Stay just like this.” Javier sighs, his other hand tangling into your hair to keep you in place and you hum in agreement. Then he thrusts — quickly like he’s actually fucking you and it comes as a surprise but the moan that drips from his mouth almost instantly is enough to make you squeeze your thighs tighter. You have never felt a high like this, being exactly what Javier wants.

You dig your finger nails into his thighs as he takes you, a blunt, bruising force to the back of the throat and you can’t help but gag.

“That’s a good girl.” He says, “Taking my dick in your hot fucking mouth. I love that sound.”

You gag once more and Javier pulls out to you gasping. Spit suspended from your mouth to his cock and you watch it for a moment before grinning up at Javi.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wiping the saliva from your mouth.

“I’ve never done that before.” You smile, looking down slightly embarrassed as you wonder if you were even any good.

“You keep saying that...” Javi’s voice trails off as he pulls your dress up to knead your behind. You love having his hands on you, playing with you. “But you’d never know...”

You try to suppress your satisfied smile, flattening your palms around the base of Javier’s shaft, you take him back in your mouth.

“Fuck...” he exhales long and slow, grabbing a rough handful of your ass before pushing you down on to him, taking him completely down your throat and keeps you there. Your eyes water, and your leg kicks out before he lets you breathe again, coming up for air with a cough you look up at him and he looks down at you like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

——

Javier pulls you back up against his side, and he looks up at you as he’s slumped down into the couch. You wrap your arms back around his neck, fluttering your fingers through his hair and he nuzzles your chest, pressing his lips into your skin. You wish he was like this always, soft in your arms.

Javi hooks a finger into the top of your dress and pulls down, freeing your breasts, nipples hard in attention and he takes one in his mouth. Your cradle his head as he sucks on the buds and you let your own fall back slowly, relishing in the feeling of his tongue and his lips, the brushing of his moustache and the digging of his nose and how sweet he looks in your arms. This is too much, you’re going dizzy.

Javier helps you pull your dress over his head and his lips quickly return to your nipples. His big warm hands squeezing your bust harshly, alternating with his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh and completely pressing his face into your chest. Even as you climb into his lap, on top of him completely nude, his tongue doesn’t give up until you pull his face up to yours for a kiss.

He tastes like everything you want to drown in and it’s heady, like a force you must fight before it completely consumes you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck.” You gasp, grinding your hips along Javi’s length, desperate for more.

“Oh, god.” He chokes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me this time, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You whine, reaching between your bodies.

“Yeah? You’re gonna bounce that wet little pussy on my dick?” His voice shakes into your neck, and it’s such a contrast from his stern “Get on your bed.” from days ago.

You nod, kissing up his jaw in this sudden codependency, his need to feel every inch of you as you both fall back into the couch.

“Relax, Javi. Let me do this for you.” You coo, sinking down on to him. You hum from the incredible stretch and Javier groans right into your ear.

“That pussy is so fucking tight.” He says, out of breath. “Don’t move.”

You obey him, stilling in his lap and Javier lifts his head from the safe space between your neck and your shoulder and he looks up at you.

“What if I just held you here like this.” He says, almost to himself, his hands coming up to your ass. “Stuffed full of my dick and I didn’t let you move.”

“Javi...” You whine.

“Would you still be my good little girl?”

“Javi...” You whine louder, your chest feeling like it’s going to collapse, Javier’s fingers digging into you and he gives you two small thrusts.

“You love being my good girl, don’t you?” Javier whispers, pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

More than anything.

“Yes.” You gasp.

“I know you do.” He says, guiding you slowly up and down. “Just sucking my dick made this pussy a dripping mess.”

“I love it.” You groan as the sound of your skin against his gets louder as you work your hips for him.

Javier looks a moment away from possession and it just fuels you, for you have him where you always want him and you want this to be the death of him.

You still again, but only for a moment to steady yourself as you get up on your feet.

“Shit..” Javier sighs, before he turns you both with your arms wrapped around him, his back now against the arm rest and his legs straight out along the couch. “There you go, baby.”

You reach behind you, finding your balance with your grip on his knees and you pull your hips up.

“Oh my fucking god.” Javier gasps, running his hand down his face and you push your hips down slowly, watching him and in this moment he is really yours.

Fighting through the burning in your arms and your legs, you give him everything you’ve got. Mewing in the pleasure of seeing him underneath you like this, needing you like this. Submitting to the grinding of your hips and the wetness that aches around him. You wish you could see yourself on top of him, your chest bouncing, skin glowing in sweat so he knows exactly what he could have, whenever he wanted it.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” Javier says, his thumb dragging across your mound and down to your clit, that is begging for attention and the moment his fingertip grazes the sensitive nerve your legs clamp together. But he doesn’t stop. Even as his length falls from your body from the increased height of your hips, Javier’s hand doesn’t retreat from the soft thighs it’s wedged between. Circling your clit over and over, your arms buckle and you hold your breath. You thought you had the power but even on top of him you’re just putty in his hand and he knows exactly what to do to make you sing.

“Are you going to squirt for me again?” He rasps, his other hand pushing you down into his lap. “I want to watch this pretty little pussy squirt all over me.”

“Put it back.” You gasp, trying to force your legs open.

“Yeah, baby? Do you need my dick?” Javi teases, pushing at your thigh to open up for him again. He finally eases his dizzying pressure on your clit and holds you just above his pulsing head, slick with you. Running his tip along your folds, you try to sink down on to him, but he keeps you suspended.

“Beg me.” He demands. “You know I love the way you say my fucking name.”

“Please, Javi.” You whine, grinding your hips into nothing. “Please, I love your cock so much, give it to me.”

You push yourself up and fall forward so your hands are on his chest, “Please, Javi. Make me squirt again. Only you know how to fucking do it”

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, pushing up into you sharply despite your yelp. “Anything for my good little girl.”

Javier pulls you down, flush against his chest, still clothed against your’s nude and he wraps his arms around you. He smells like amber and fresh linens as always. Summer. A sunset. The breeze off the ocean and wine. Safe.

His grip around you tightens as you inhale him, pounding up into you as he finds your ear, and his voice is like syrup, “I’m going to take care of you sweetheart. Going to make this pussy cum. You tell me okay? I want to see it. Want to see you fucking soak me. Don’t by shy, my good little girl. Give it to me.”

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You’re so fucking incredible. Taking my big dick in this perfect little pussy. Let go, Claude. Cum for me, angel.”

You groan lewdly and Javi’s hand comes down on your mouth.

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” He warns, and you sigh into his palm. Angel.

This pace is overwhelming, and as he’s restricted your limbs there really is nothing you can do but take it, trying to keep your thighs from clamping together every time Javier brushes that incredible spot within you. Your moans getting longer, from an even deeper part of your throat every time. Your core twists and tightens as he brings you there, unlike anyone else ever has.

“Javi, now!” You exclaim, barely recognizing the screech in your voice and Javier pulls out. His lap wet with you.

“Oh that’s a good fucking girl.” He says, kissing the top of your head as you fall to his side. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your house guest’s impressive length twitches in his hand as he strokes himself, his nose buried in your hair as you nuzzle his chest in hazy delight and he keeps whispering, “Fucking you is such a dream. You make it so hard not to just nut in that tight fucking pussy.”

You hum, lifting our head up and kissing him softly. “Cum for me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows.

“Please, Javi.” You sigh.

“Where?” He asks, stroking himself harder.

It takes all your strength, but you slip silently off the couch and on to your knees. “On my face.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He says, getting up quickly.

Javier takes your chin delicately in his hand, stroking himself with vigor with the other, and you display your tongue for him, feeling the weight of his cock on it instantly.

“Such a good girl, letting me cum on your pretty fucking face like this. I don’t deserve you. So fucking— pretty.” He groans, with everything left and in this moment you have him, again.

——

You wake in your bed, and you know it’s late because you’re hit by a wall of heat followed swiftly by disappointment when you realize you are, once again, alone. With your arm spread out at your side, you know you are going to be met with nothing but empty sheets and you still feel it at the pit of your stomach anyway.

You sit up with a sigh, back to normal you suppose. Another day of existing separately, but together with only your lost puppy sense of self and a fascination for this man to sustain you.

Then you see him. Javier leaning up against your balcony door with his coffee, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. He hears you stirring and looks back with a smile, “Good morning.”

——

Tags: @pascalisperfect @thefinalgurl @we-are-like-a-timebomb @ssppoorrkk @headsindreams @kehrite @nerdyknightwritersblog @tangledlove27 @chipotle-pour-moi @jokersdoll @zea-is-amazing @someplace-darker @kaylaylaylayla @spacenerdsebby @forever-rogue @fionnthebandersnacc @colourmeinblue @longitud-de-onda @dogsinspace @spitmillk @staellula @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @leo-moon @mandoandyodito @bonkybaaarnes @sadthotsonlylove @ah-callie @astrolo-galaxy @lockedoutofmyotherblog @hayley-the-comet @boybalm @casjason @mrsparknuts @blushingwueen @ignimbritetcax @benakenalove @fioccodineveautunnale @exrebelshocktrooper @pascalisthepunkest @sav-a-nna @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @solarwars @cumberbitching @rae-gar-targaryen @tabalugax @lokiaddicted @roxypeanut @ezraslittlebirdie @thisainttheway @none-of-your-bullshit @mand0-l0rian @assaultsofthought

Love, Zelda

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #au #call me by your name #cmbyn fic #cmbyn aesthetic #narcos

[jamespotterthefirst]

As Long as You Love Me So

aka the fake Christmas date (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: some language 

Premise: She is in desperate need of a date for her cousin’s pretentious dinner.

Author’s Note: Back at it again at Krispy Kreme with the fake dating trope. This takes place during the holidays in book 1. Thank you to @aestheticartsx​ for pre-reading this 💖

Can you pretend to be my date tonight? 

The biting Boston breeze cut into her exposed skin with an unforgiving bite, leaving her fingers numb as she sent the text. All around her, chatting and laughing couples milled about, basking in the golden lights of the city's Christmastime decorations. Those who weren't affectionately enraptured in each other or studiously deciding which of the many restaurants to pick from threw curious glances her way. 

Please? It's a long story but I can tell you when you get here. I'll pay you. 

Vaguely, she regretted the pale pink cocktail dress that left her shoulders, legs, and much of her chest exposed. An hour ago, it had seemed like the perfect dress to force her pretentious cousin, Griselda, into quiet envy. And while her plan had been successful for the better part of five minutes, Lilac's arrival at the restaurant without a date had been enough for her cousin to revert back to her sneering, condescending, look-at-my-successful-broker-boyfriend ways. 

 I'm offended, Lil. I'd do that shit for free. 

Bryce's text brought Lilac back to her current desperate situation. With unfeeling, shivering fingers she texted back. 

You don't need to know why? You'll do it? 

Bryce's reply came in instantly which Lilac was grateful for. The sudden breeze that rustled through her hair and bare skin made her shiver uncontrollably. 

No need to know why. I'd do anything for you. 

Her triumphant smile lasted only second as her phone announced a second text from Bryce. 

But I can't tonight. I'm assisting Dr. Tanaka and he'll murder me if I back out now. I'm so sorry, Lil. 

Lilac exhaled sharply, her breath swirling into the night like fog. This was what she got for letting her anger get the best of her. Wincing, she recalled the lie that had hurled from her lips with vehement, unstoppable force. 

“Not that it's any of your business but I'm dating a successful doctor from work.”

Griselda's brief shock had been vindication enough but when it slowly ebbed into a wicked, challenging sneer, Lilac felt utterly pathetic.

“Fuck her,” Lilac muttered with a sudden rush of righteous anger.  

So help her God, she was going to march back into the restaurant and promptly inform her stupid cousin that her dating life was none of her business. So what if Lilac couldn't make a relationship last longer than a few months or if she dated around too much? She would be damned if she allowed her pompous, gold digging cousin to slut shame her. 

“Please tell me you're not a smoker, Rookie.”

The familiar baritone sent a white hot thrill through her body before her brain registered who it belonged to. 

Handsome as ever, Doctor Ethan Ramsey stood before her, eyeing her quizzically. He looked magnificently elegant in a dark suit, topped with a dark blue coat and scarf. The twinkling Christmas lights of the street sent his striking features into sharp relief, making him appear even more attractive than should be allowed. 

He waited for her reply and Lilac jolted with a start. Nearby, a small group smoked as they talked and laughed. 

“No smoking for me.” She grimaced and added as an afterthought, “Though if I were a smoker, I'd need a full pack right about now.”

“Rough night?” 

“You've no idea.”

“Is that why you're standing out here in the freezing cold with no coat wearing…” 

He trailed off, piercing blue eyes sweeping over her attire. Lilac held her breath, the heat of his gaze feeling like a gentle caress of his fingers on her skin. 

“...That?” 

His gaze reunited with hers and they looked at one another in the noisy street, a charged silence stretching between them. 

Then, too suddenly, Ethan looked away, busying himself with removing his coat and draping it over Lilac's shoulders without much ceremony. The pleasant waft of his cologne comforted her almost as much as the welcomed warmth of his coat. 

“I never took you for the type to like any of these trendy restaurants,” she commented when there was nothing else to say. “Especially during the holidays, with so many people everywhere.”

Ethan grimaced slightly. “I had to join Banner Health for dinner. It seems cozying up to them at the baseball game a few months ago was not enough to get a good deal for our patients.”

Lilac pulled his coat closer around herself but said nothing. 

“What about you? Why are you so determined to die of hypothermia?” His eyes briefly swiveled to her dress again. “Is your date going that terribly?”

Ethan added the last part casually enough but Lilac sensed that he was extremely interested in the answer. 

“I would take a horrible date over what's going on in there.” She gestured toward the window of the restaurant with a nod. At Ethan's evident confusion, she added, “Family dinner.”

“Aren't you close with your family?” 

“My mother, father, and siblings? Yes. My cousin?” Lilac allowed a look of disgust to be her answer. 

The crowd of people that moved around them on the sidewalk forced them closer together. Lilac's stomach fluttered but Ethan looked unfazed, peering down at her expectantly, waiting for her to go on. 

“It's my cousin Griselda's annual Christmas dinner at this ostentatious restaurant. Mostly because she can't cook for shit.” She explained this with a sarcastic flair. “But we're all supposed to forget about that when she shoves expensive meals under our noses.”

To her surprise, Ethan chuckled. “Sounds like fresh hell. Why even attend?” 

“Because it would be unspeakably rude not to show up? The family drama this would cause would be ten times worse.” Lilac glanced through the window of the dark restaurant, all tables lit by candle light. “So instead, us poor bastards who live in the East Coast are forced to hear all about how successful and beautiful she is.”

In moving her hands and arms when shit-talking her cousin, Ethan's coat began to slip off one of her shoulders. 

“You're a doctor, Rookie. And a damn good one at that.” 

Ethan's eyes fell to the curve of her exposed shoulder then back to her eyes. His gaze held such intensity that she was momentarily struck motionless. Very gently, gentler than she had ever seen him before, he reached over to adjust his coat around her, the sweep of his fingers against her skin leaving a trail of heat.

“And not to mention you're also quite beau—” 

“So you made it after all.” 

Griselda looked directly at Ethan as she emerged from the restaurant. There was no greeting, only bitter disappointment in her voice. Her cousin's dark, judgmental eyes swept the handsome doctor from head to toe, as though trying to find a flaw but finding none to her dismay.

“We all thought Lilita here was bluffing.”

Ethan stared at Griselda with brief surprise at being addressed so bluntly. His questioning gaze briefly moved to Lilac who grit her teeth in embarrassment, wishing for the ground to swallow her whole. 

The longest silence in Lilac's existence passed before he spoke again. 

“I arrived as fast as I could on such short notice.”

Lilac's head snapped to look at him, only belatedly remembering to hide her surprise.

“It's unspeakably rude to invite someone impromptu,” Ethan continued, matching Griselda's cool, haughty demeanor. 

Lilac could have kissed him with gratitude. 

“Yes, well.” For the first time in her life, Griselda Castillo had no retort. 

It was all too perfect. All Lilac had to do now was make up an excuse for Ethan to go and no one would be the wiser about her stupid lie. Not even Ethan himself. It was all going to work out—

“Forgive me, we were not aware Lilac was seeing someone. Easy mistake to make.” Griselda threw a faux saccharine smile Lilac's way. “When we heard about the famous boyfriend, however, we just had to meet you.”

Fuck you, Griselda. 

Lilac couldn't decide if she wanted to push her cousin onto moving traffic or if she wished to walk right into it herself. 

Beside her, Ethan remained very still. 

“He actually can't stay.” Lilac said, her voice hitching higher in barely controlled panic. “He has to finish some research for his next case study.” 

Griselda looked between Ethan and Lilac, clearly unconvinced. Her crimson lips slowly turned up into a devilish, triumphant smile that would have put the Grinch himself to shame. 

Ethan seemed to recover beside her because he cleared his throat. 

Then, he moved to stand closer to Lilac and to her utter, complete shock, he wrapped an arm around her waist with enviable grace. 

“My research can wait, love,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. “If your family wants to meet your boyfriend then that's what they'll do.”

If someone had told him that morning that his day would end at the most pretentious restaurant in the city with Lilac Allende pressed close to his side, he would have recommended a brain CT scan. Yet, there he stood, being hastily introduced to people whose names he had no chance of remembering right away, not when Lilac's hand slid slightly down his chest, scorching him through the very fabric of his shirt. 

He glanced down at her and immediately realized what a mistake that had been. The glittering, sinful dress she wore was entirely too distracting on its own, but the charged way her green eyes studied his face... it made the energy between them crackle like an exposed wire.

“Everyone, this is Doctor Ethan Ramsey,” Lilac said to the curious and expectant table. “My…”

She trailed off, turning a bashful glance at Ethan. 

“Boyfriend,” Ethan finished without pause. He willfully ignored the thrill the juvenile word sent through him. 

As they took their seats, Ethan was still unsure what possessed him to pretend for her sake. All he saw was her cousin's mocking grin and Lilac's dejected, mortified frown and suddenly, he felt the urge to be anything she needed. 

“Pleasure, Doctor Ramsey,” Griselda said with as much enthusiasm as someone with a hernia. 

Ethan decided right then that if anything else, at least he would enjoy free food and alcohol, all paid for by Lilac's unpleasant cousin. When he looked over at his pretend girlfriend, pale dress glittering in the candle light and looking as radiant as ever, his blood buzzed with unbridled yearning.

“Ramsey?” the blonde man sitting next to Lilac's cousin asked with interest. “Why does that sound familiar? Where do I know you from?” 

“Ethan is a world famous doc—” 

“Wait,” a young woman with a mountain of curly hair and a kind face interrupted, enthusiastic. “He was in your Miami pictures, wasn't he?” 

Ethan blinked. 

Beside him, Lilac shook her head frantically at the young woman. 

“Natalia,” she hissed, but Natalia either missed this or ignored it. 

“You're so photogenic, Doctor,” she commented with a broad grin. “I messaged Lilita about it. The way she talked about you, it was so obvious she was into you.”

Ethan raised an intrigued eyebrow at the lovely, blushing doctor beside him. Lilac, however, studiously avoided his eyes, suddenly very interested in her wine. 

A young man sitting next to Natalia laughed. He shared many similarities with her, including the unruly curls. 

“I think we all called that one, Nat.”

“Has everyone tried the calamari?” Griselda interjected sharply. Ethan got the impression she didn't appreciate any conversation that was not solely about her. “It is divine.”

As Natalia rolled her eyes and challenged that proclamation, Ethan leaned in close to Lilac, the heady scent of her perfume sending his mind to less than honorable places. She had been leaning in too and they ended almost nose to nose. 

“You don't have to do this for much longer,” she whispered. “I can think of something so we can leave.”

Ethan ignored this and instead asked, “Miami pictures?” 

She blushed even deeper.

“Into me?” 

She was the color of her wine by now. 

Ethan had never seen this timid, demure side of her. Typically, the roles were reversed where he was the object of her teasing. As he watched her lovely blush spread down to her graceful neck, Ethan found he enjoyed this dynamic. 

It made him wish he could kiss her. Hard. 

“Tell her, Lilita,” the curly-haired young man called from his seat, making Griselda's eyes bulge out with indignation. “Aunt Margo's tamales are the only acceptable meal for Christmas.”

“Sebastian, you are making a scene,” Griselda muttered. 

“I'll let my mom know you miss her food, Sebas. She'll love you more than she already does,” Lilac laughed.

 The sound, accompanied with the fact that she looked so much more at ease, made Ethan's chest glow with contentment. 

Before he could stop himself, his hand moved atop hers under the table. Lilac stiffened in surprise but relaxed immediately after, keeping their hands locked. 

“I'm just not convinced tamales make for an elegant Christmas dinner,” Griselda was saying. 

“Bitch, you grew up in Guadalajara,” Natalia returned at once. “That's all you ate in the winter.”

The whole table laughed, much to Griselda's fury. The blonde man beside her rubbed her back soothingly to no avail. Instead, her sharp eyes zeroed in on Lilac like daggers and an air of conceit returned to her expression. 

“So how long have you two been together?” 

“A few months,” Ethan returned with ease. 

“Ooh,” Natalia commented. “The honeymoon stage! Where you can't keep your hands off the other and all you want to do is—” 

“Funny,” Griselda continued, eyes never leaving Lilac. “My cousin never really mentioned you.”

“She never really mentioned you either,” Ethan deflected. 

Sebastian almost choked on his drink. 

“How did you meet?”

Griselda's question came off as a challenge. 

“We work together.”

“Is that allowed?” 

“Yes.”

Below the table, Lilac gripped his hand. Ethan squeezed back, wishing more than anything that his lie was true. 

“Was it love at first sight?” Natalia asked with genuine interest.

“Have you seen her?” the blonde man joked before Ethan could consider the question or how much he despised the phrase "love at first sight." Something coiled in his stomach at the less than innocent smile the man was sending Lilac's neckline. 

His fist clenched at his side, itching to connect with the man's jaw in a swift undercut. 

“Keith,” Griselda chided, also looking thoroughly displeased. 

Keith did a poor job at looking abashed. This did not fly with Natalia, who Ethan liked more and more each minute, because she glared at Keith and scolded him in both English and Spanish. 

“You don't have to answer Nat's question if she asks again, by the way,” Lilac said as her cousins argued.

Ethan said nothing, careful to keep his expression neutral. 

If he were to answer the question, the answer would be a resounding no. His feelings for the beautiful young doctor before him did not arise from their first meeting. As a matter of fact, after the thoracotomy, Ethan had walked away thinking her arrogant and impertinent, just like any other fresh-faced intern eager to impress an attending. Except this intern had done so by flirting with him. 

 Instead, he thought of her hand atop his in the NICU as they watched over Dolores's baby fight for his life; of the comforting hand on his knee as he told her about Naveen; of every kind, warm smile she gifted him with when passing each other in the hallway. 

It had decidedly not been love at first sight. The clichéd expression would never be enough to capture the way his heart ached for her every time he laid eyes on her, each time with much more force. 

“No amount of free alcohol or expensive food should make you feel obligated to act that much,” Lilac laughed, oblivious. Sparkling green eyes met his, taking in his expression. “What?” 

Ethan swallowed. He was unable to decide if he wanted to tell her he was far from acting or if he wanted to pull her close and kiss her. 

“We're leaving,” Griselda announced in a harsh and dramatic whisper as a way to end the ongoing argument. She frantically collected her belongings and rose at once. 

When she realized no one at the table was saddened by the announcement, she marched out of the restaurant with Keith at her heels. As soon as she was gone, Natalia cackled. 

“Well, that was one of the better Grinch-elda dinners.”

Sebastian threw Ethan an appreciative smile. “It appears Doctor Ramsey is the only one who can tame her. She finally met her match.”

“That was her tame?” 

The cousins laughed. 

After a final round of drinks, Natalia and Sebastian announced that they too had to depart. When they were out the door, Lilac exhaled and relaxed for the first time all evening. 

“Thank—” 

But Ethan shook his head, interrupting. “Don't mention it, Rookie.”

Lilac gave him a single nod and when she couldn't stand the heat of their eyes on one another’s, she averted her gaze to readjust the front of her dress. 

Soon they would each be going their separate ways and this brief fantasy would really be over. 

With a pang, he realized he didn't want it to be. 

“Lilac?” 

“Hmm?” 

Her eyes met his and Ethan forgot all coherence, not that he knew what exactly he planned to say anyway. Rosy, plush lips commanded his attention and Ethan leaned in, determined to feel them against his again. 

Lilac moved too, until their breaths mingled together, the distance separating them as insignificant as the million reasons they deemed this a bad idea.

They were so close now, Ethan's hand moving to the dip of her waist. She whispered his name, a silent invitation, and the last remnants of restraint vanished. 

“Oh shit. Sorry—” 

Natalia halted at their table, slightly out of breath, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. Lilac and Ethan sprang apart, which only made Natalia wince apologetically. 

“I'm so sorry to interrupt but I can't believe I forgot to tell you. We're all spending New Year's Eve in Griselda's cabin in Vermont. It’s going to be this but ten times worse so we need all the backup we can get.”

Lilac tensed visibly next to him. 

“You two should come.”

Author’s Note: If you made it this far, thank you! 

I decided Lilac’s family nickname is Lilita because Latin American families do that all the time. For example, my cousin’s name is Teresa and they call her Teresita (in diminutive form with the -ita/-ito). Which is hilarious to me because they make the names longer rather than shorter. They do that with own full name too, lol. I love it. 

Anyway: Hopefully, my inspiration doesn’t vanish for a part 2! 

Happy Holidays to everyone! 

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#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #fake dating #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

[narrators-journal]

Step one

Hoo boy, this one is potentially dark as fuck, so remember that this is entirely fantasy. Do not think this is healthy or copy anything here.

Cw: heavy heavy nsfw. Drugging, b+e, somnophilia, Illumi gets possessive lowkey

previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi used the month or so you were closed off and mourning to try and dig up as much intimate info on you as he could, from childhood fears to how many times you've had sex. With this knowledge added to his collection, the last thing he needed to do was set up a cover story, than introduce himself. If this fails, she can be killed, or trained He told himself as he read through your social media on his laptop, ignoring a nagging sense of dread he hadn't felt since his first solo kill as a child.

The cover story was easy enough, murdering the people across the street from your home was boringly simple, setting them up to die of heart attacks and a break in, waiting out the investigation, nothing new to the assassin. By the time things had cleared up there, you were beginning to cheer up anyway, which was good, it'd be easier for Illumi to court you if you weren't verging into suicidal territory. Finally, the day came when he moved into the home, much to the teary refusal of his mother.       "I'm not leaving permanently," Illumi assured her the day he moved out, taking only a duffel bag of clothing with him, the issue was that his mother was holding him in a hug and refusing to let go. "You were so excited for me to be courting a woman, you can't sob and cling to me when I need to move out to properly 'woo' her." His voice was level and uninterested, as always, though on the inside he did feel a bit of reluctance at leaving, which was why he guessed he didn't use a lot of force to remove his mother's iron grip.        "I know, but why can't you go about the process from home?" she blubbered, Illumi's father standing a bit behind her sighing at her antics,              "To build up proper propinquity I need to be near her a lot, I cannot do that from here while also doing my work. Besides, it is relatively frowned upon for a 24 year old to still be living with their parents, so I need to have my own place for...the later portion." Sadly, even logic didn't calm Kikyo down, so Silva was forced to pry her from Illumi and simply wished the long haired assassin well as the man left. To atone for the sin of leaving the Zoldyck estate, Illumi was required to call his mother at least once a day, but other than that, he was free to live across the street from you when he wasn't working. This set up proved to be very useful, as it allowed him to linger on the street without suspicion, watch you from his windows, and it gave him more opportunities to run into you 'organically', despite having your meager outing schedule memorized already, and more. The day he moved in properly, Illumi was helping a trio of butlers move furniture in, trying to seem as normal as possible since he could see you sitting on your porch, getting some fresh air while also watching your new neighbor curiously. It's good to see her out at least, vitamin D is necessary for good health. he thought as he moved the last bit of strategically aged furniture into the home, letting the butlers return home after that. If he was to blend in, he'd have to slum it for a while after all. Though, he could put up with that as long as you stayed as friendly as you were the first night he was there. It was pretty late, the dark hours cooling the relatively warm air of the late spring day when he heard a knock at the door, but when he opened, there you were, your (h/l), (h/c) hair pulled away from your face, in a (f/c) jacket and some of your nicer casual clothes,       "Hello! I'm sorry if you were asleep or anything, but I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" you chirped, your kind smile making something weird happen to his heart, but he hid that, not wanting to scare you by saying he was having a heart attack,      "Ah, hello miss. No, I was just trying to cook some dinner, not to worry." he assured, watching you relax a bit before tilting his head, "I'm sorry if this is curt, but have we met?" he asked, your (e/c) eyes shining with confusion for a moment before realization washed that away,       "Oh! you're the man I bumped into at that party!" he mimicked your stunned reaction, chatting a bit before you heard angry sizzling from his kitchen, the sound earning a concerned look from you. "Um?? Should you step outside?" you suggested, and when he looked in your eyes again, he saw that undeserved concern in those captivating orbs. That weird feeling returned in response, but Illumi repressed it once again,        "No, I believe that's just my food," he said nonchalantly, watching your expression change to panic, it was so intriguing to see how expressive you were compared to his family,        "Maybe you should go check on it??" you urged gently, the panicked look in your eyes compelling the empathy-less assassin to do as you said, so he nodded simply and returned to the pot of boiling water that was leaking with angry bubbles splashing water onto the burner. He simply turned the stove off and returned to you once the water had settled again. You were still there, nervously peeking in to try and check on him he assumed.        "Why didn't you come in?" He asked, making you jump,        "I-I wasn't invited, it's rude to just walk in." you pointed out, and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting that fact briefly. Though he verbally just sighed in defeat, running a hand through his long, silky hair.         "Actually, would it be uncouth of me to maybe ask if you would help me with something?" He asked, and when you shook your head he reluctantly continued, "You see, my family is rather well off, so I've...never learned to cook. Would you maybe teach me how to make the food?" He asked, and he liked to think it was the power of his natural charm that made you agree, not the pitiful mask of helplessness he put on. Either way though, you were now inside of his new home. Could this be considered a date? Illumi mused as he followed your instructions to bring the water to a boil again and put the store-bought noodles into the rolling liquid, People cook together as a date, so this should count as a date. He decided after a moment of watching you prepare food, following your orders until the two of you had managed to make a rather respectable looking dinner. He cemented this occassion's 'date' status by handing you a plate,          "It's fair that since you helped make it, you eat some of it with me." he pointed out when you went to refuse his offering. After that, the two of you sat in his living room in silence, neither making the first move to speak. For Illumi, the silence was comfortable, it gave him time to judge the weird thing that had happened with his insides. He wasn't dead, and the warm, fluttery sensation was fading, so it didn't seem to be fatal. I should get the family doctor to check me over. he decided as he ate, finally glancing over at you while you sat on the opposite end of the couch. Judging by the tension in your limbs and how you radiated discomfort, you were about to bolt like a scared rabbit. That's not good...

        "so." He hummed, hoping to ease your anxiety with some conversation, plus it'd give him a chance to dig into you, "why were you at that party?" There was a stretch of silence, your mood falling again for a moment, but than you seemed to put on a fake smile for him, how sweet.         "I'm a bit shy, so my friend decided to try and hook me up with a man she worked with." you explained, shrugging it off, "He ended up ditching me for some friends when we got there, so I didn't ask for a second date." Well of course your date went badly, you're supposed to be with me, not some stranger. a dark part of him thought, than stopped. What brought that up? I haven't even decided if she's really worth 'dating'. He reminded himself, but that possessive thought still lingered a bit more than he would've liked. However, that issue was for later, right now he wanted to see just how much information he could get you to willingly tell him.       "So, are you looking for a partner?" he asked, and he just caught a bit of a flustered epression on your (s/c) face at his question. He was beginning to enjoy seeing such an expression.        "R-right now? Um..not actively, b-but I'm not against a relationship." you said, not looking at him as you spoke, your body language screaming how flustered you were. After that, the two of you simply chatted, Illumi enjoying when you fully relaxed and opened up a bit more, but what felt like only a short time later, you were thanking him for the food and leaving for your own home. The tall man was polite back, but for the third time that night, his torso felt odd inside. He wanted to ask you to stay, maybe offer you a drink and slip a sedative into it, that way you'd stay the night, but no, he refrained from stopping you. If you drug her, she'll wake up tomorrow and be terrified of you. Maybe even call the cops. He told himself as he shut his door behind you. However, the thoughts were already there, making him groan. What is going on with me?! I'm losing control of myself so easily now. he thought, rubbing his face as if that would wipe away the bubbling waves of dark lust that were once again flooding his mind with images of you naked beneath him, calling out his name, mixing with the urge to control that he usually kept a close eye on. This is absolutely pathetic. She's not even that attractive! He chided himself, glaring down at the growing bulge in his pants as if it were to blame for his urges. Which, to a point was true, but either way it still twitched, demanding to be tended to. However, he refused to masturbate again. His sperm was precious, and while he could produce quite enough to impregnate a woman despite such a shameful act, he didn't like wasting his DNA. So, for a bit, he tried to cook up ways to relieve himself, unable to shake the lustful thoughts of you. Could he wait until tomorrow and lure you over again? No, that'd leave a horrid impression of him in your mind. Maybe he could sneak some aphrodisiacs into your food and than offer to help? No, that'd take too long, and he didn't know how long he could control his lust. Around eleven or so, Illumi finally came up with a satisfactory method. So, he turned his lights off and slipped out into the cool night to slither across the street and into your dark home. It was late enough that he knew you were asleep, so he was free to make his way in and towards your bedroom, What he wasn't expecting though, was to find you sleeping on your couch, your blanket fallen to the floor, revealing your pajamas to him. The sight only seemed to throw gasoline on the fire of neglected needs within him.       "now this is simply inappropriate," he breathed, shaking his head at your baggy t-shirt and (random color) panties, "(y/n), you should know better. Such outfits should be saved for your husband." He kept his voice low, making sure not to wake you as he chided you and his lightless eyes zeroed in on the bit of panty he could see with the way your shirt was ridden up ever so slightly. teasingly. He sighed, this would make his plan easier anyway. So, he just pulled out a needle of sedative and carefully moved you so that he could get access to your neck without waking you, sticking the needle in and injecting you with the fast acting drug. Within a few moments you were certain to stir for nothing less than a natural disaster, so he was free to do whatever he wished. The assassin's body burned with lust, his cock throbbing within his pants while he moved your thighs apart, revealing more of your panties. You weren't much to look at, he'd seen prettier women, but the feeling of your perfectly malleable thigh in his hand, seeing you so complacent and welcoming for him while his hormones were so out of control, you could've passed as a goddess in that moment. He wasted no time in removing your underwear, leaving your shirt and bra on so it'd be less work afterwards, revealing your most intimate parts to him with no arguments. It gave him such a rush to see you so obediently laying on your back, your legs apart and welcoming. your vulnerability was like a form of foreplay for him, but when he ran a slender finger up your slit and realized just how dry you were, it ruined his fantasy. Though, not enough to deter him. Instead of stopping, Illumi simply pushed your shirt up with your bra, using one hand to massage your breast while he kissed down your sternum and up the soft mound of flesh. His free hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing slow circles around your clit until breathy whines and moans slipped from your lips. Carefully, he teased your nipple between his fingers, simultaneously moving up to your throat until he found the spot that made you gasp and whine in your sleep again. The only downside was despite how badly he wanted to mark you, he couldn't. He had to wait until he securely had you, until then he couldn't leave any visual evidence of his actions. So, he nibbled and kissed the spot, but didn't bite too roughly and claim you. He simply teased you, rubbing your clit, massaging your breasts or hip, and pressing hungry kisses to your unresponsive lips until he could dip his fingers down into your warmth and pull them back coated with a healthy amount of slick. With you properly aroused, he eagerly freed his throbbing dick from his pants, giving himself a few pumps before running the head up and down your slit, making you hum at the stimulation. God, how he relished how your face twitched and you groaned at the feeling of him grabbing one of your legs with one of his hands before pushing into you. God the tight warmth alone could've made him cum, but he once again held himself back. He'd gone this far, he wasn't about to squander the opportunity to indulge himself by not savoring it. No, He simply grabbed your hips once fully inside and began moving, pretty soon slapping his hips into yours roughly. He might regret being so aggressive later, when it undoubtedly left you sore, or at the very least left bruises and scratches, but right now he just enjoyed the way your pussy squeezed around him and your breasts bounced with each rough thrust into your womb. He let out a few soft noises after a bit when the waves of pleasure began fogging over his mind again. The combination of your breathy moans, your warmth squeezing around him, begging to be filled, and the possessive urge to claim you continuously driving him forward, encouraging him to go until the blinding waves of pleasure erupted and he stilled himself so that every drop of cum was safely inside of your womb. It took him longer than usual to regain his composure afterwards, but when he did he swiftly pulled out, pulling his pants up and slipping your panties back onto you before too much of his essence escaped. He grimaced at the marks of his nails on your (s/c) flesh, though hopefully they would fade before you noticed. Right now though, his main priority was to get out of your home, and leave as little evidence as possible, save for his cum. He refused to feel sorry for filling his obviously needy wife with perfectly good semen. That's right. his wife. The phrase seemed to fit perfectly.

#Illumi x reader #yandere illumi x reader #Illumi zoldyck #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #yandere #part 6 #fanfiction #quotev #not sfw