#no one can play icy ex like you can

[gamermattsgf]

“Cool spider…” // Tattoo artist Chris

Warnings: sextape / colleague relationship / favour for a favour trope / riding / petty Chris x reader / nose piercing!Chris / spanking kink / mommy kink / slight breeding kink / tattoo!Chris / praise kink / ownership kink / degradation kink / ‘good girl’ / creampie / unprotected sex / hair pulling / exhibitionist kink / scratch kink / tit play / overstimulation

Summary: you and Chris both work in a tattoo & piercing gallery, and your toxic ex just won’t leave you alone… so Chris decides to shut him up and put him in his place.

Author’s notes: I’m baaack. someone’s seriously got to stop me from making up fics on stuff that I’ve just randomly yapped about and blogged for fun. Me: posting about tattoos I’d think Chris would look good with. Also me: ‘-now hang on a sec that’s actually given me a great idea…’ *pulls out a notebook and starts vigorously writing shit down*.

“Gotta know, I ate her, she's so sweet, now or later. I want that all the time, all the time I'll make you all mine” - Toes Down, Loukeman

. ♱ .

You sigh, checking your phone once again before flipping it back around to face the desk. You shake your head and put it into your hands to rub it slowly in exhaustion. This is the fifth time he’s texted you today and your patience with him was slowly thinning.

‘You good?’

Chris mumbles absentmindedly from his hunched over position at the counter. He has his shirt off - as he usually does - to keep himself cool as the ceiling fan whirls above your heads. You look at his back, and the way his light wash blue jeans wrap around his lean waist lowly.

His right arm moves languidly as he sketches out a stencil for one of his clients, the graphite of his lead pencil scratching against his favourite sketchbook soothingly in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the tattoo parlour.

You admire the jet black ink adorning his torso, that stretches from the bottom of his spine to cover the expanse of his shoulder blades in jaggedly aggressive patterns, the back tattoo attractively sat over his otherwise soft skin.

The muscles wrapped around his shoulders move as he draws, and you can’t help but swallow thickly at the sight of them.

‘Yeah… I’m fine’

You reply, not at all convinced by your own weak attempt of trying to mask your obvious distaste for the sight of the messages on your Lock Screen whilst you shuffle about trying to clean a needle gun.

‘Oh really? Cos’ I’m hearin’ a great deal of sighing for your corner of the room and not alotta action…’

Chris sarcastically snorts back, his voice containing buckets of care masked within the joking manner. He doesn’t even bother turning his face, far too absorbed by the current drawing of a tiger he was doing on someone’s chest in a couple of weeks time whilst he expertly shaded in the small black stripes of its rippling body.

You pause for a minute, debating on whether or not you should actually tell Chris about what’s been going on. It’s your ex. And Chris doesn’t like him at all. So how is he going to react when you tell him he’s been quite literally harassing you for the past couple of weeks?

Not well is your guess…

Even though you two are co-workers, you share an extremely close relationship and tell each other practically everything, which sometimes readily blurs the lines between your strictly professional work ethics.

‘Ugh fine, it’s Max, he’s just sort of been bothering me lately…’

This catches Chris’ attention, and his head perks up. Craning his neck he looks back at you with narrowing eyes of suspicious icy blue.

From this angle over his shoulder you can see the gleam of his silver nose ring, and his torso twists just enough to reveal a new tattoo. One that you actually did on him yourself.

It was a delicate but bold patchwork tattoo of a large black widow spider, its long spindly legs stretching across the expanse of his ribs and looking like it was using them to scale up his chest. You struggle to hide a smile at being able to remember doing it on him so well.

You can easily recall the faint buzz of the needle gun and Chris’ soft occasional groans as you punched in the bulbous back of the widow’s body onto his skin that rose and fell to the rhythm of his exhales.

It must have been a sensitive part of Chris’ body because his breathing had been raggedy and his eyes had been squeezed shut for a majority of the tattoo. You had faintly mumbled ‘cool spider… you draw it yourself?’ To which he had responded with a grunt and an affectionate ‘duh’.

Whenever his eyes had opened to look at you they had been dilated heavily, with either pain or pleasure, you’re not quite sure.

He glares over at you and shakes his head. ‘Not this fucking idiot again… what’s he done this time?’.

Chris’ patience for Max has never been there, and he’s often one to be petty about every single move your ex boyfriend makes.

Chris has never liked him and so rejoiced when he heard from you that the break up had been messy on his side of the bargain.

Max was trouble, and so you had done the right thing when breaking things off with him. However, Max wasn’t one to easily let go, and he had been pestering you to take him back ever since.

‘Just being his normal asshole self I suppose’.

You’re deliberately vague with Chris, because you don’t want him to get all riled up like he usually does. He had given up his sketch now and had fully turned to lean his back and elbows onto the counter, knowing that you telling him this information was far more important than the task at hand.

His eyes then flick to the door of the studio, where the welcome sign hangs in the centre of the glass window pane. All around the door are frames of hundreds of different tattoos, all in the different styles of each of the employees that work here. No one else is working today though, it’s just Chris and yourself maning the store.

Chris is a primarily black work realist, and so his designs take up quite a lot of time, their lifelike splendour forking cash loads of money into his bank account whenever a piece is completed.

Multiple clients of his have been here for months as Chris prefers to take his artwork in sessions so the healing isn’t as tenuous.

Quite a few of his previous works have been photographed and framed about the waiting area, just to showcase his impressive ability.

Your area of speciality is more in line with fine line tattoos, you prefer delicacy over all else and likewise, some of your bigger works have been photographed and framed about the shop.

‘You got any more scheduled clients with appointments today?’ Chris spontaneously enquires, and you can tell simply by his face that he is pondering some form of idea within his head that makes you nervous. You hesitate with your response.

‘…Emm- no, I don’t think so?’.

Chris nods mischievously and smirks with his mouth open and his tongue pushing against the side of his teeth playfully.

‘I’m gonna need a little bit more of an explanation than just ‘he’s being an asshole’ then, cherry…’ Chris sing-songs as he pushes himself from off of his slouched position and starts to exit from behind the counter.

The nickname ‘Cherry’ had caught on fairly quickly between the two of you, because Chris had thought that you honestly looked way too sweet to be working in a downtown, grungy tattoo shop. After his first usage of the fond name it had just kind of stuck and now always sounded like molten amber honey dripping from his mouth.

He puts ‘he’s being an asshole’ in knowing quotation marks because he already knows how much of an asshole Max is. He’s experienced it before whenever your ex has decided to show up to your place of work and be a nuisance.

You’re pretty sure you almost had to hold Chris back from planting a right hook into his jaw one time because he had knocked over a bunch of new inks the store had just purchased for everyone’s clients.

Chris’ jaw had clenched immeasurably and you had quickly veered in front of him to plant your palms onto his collarbones after he had taken a large stride towards Max.

You had held him back gently, telling him to take several deep breaths and keep cool whilst you dealt with it.

Well… your version of dealing with it was calmly escorting him out of the shop and reassuring him that you’d see each other later before meekly returning back into the reception area to face a fuming Chris who immediately rolled his eyes and spat a quick ‘I’m gonna ban that bitch from coming in here next time he shows his ratty lookin’ face…’

You had simply sighed, shook your head, and tenderly patted him on the shoulder.

At the present, you squirm nervously when you see the way Chris walks right up to the door, before twisting the heavy duty lock on it and flipping the welcome sign to the side that displayed a big ‘closed’ on the front that was visible to passing strangers.

‘Chris it’s not that big of a deal honestly!’ You try and laugh it off as Chris spins back around. He then walks right up to you.

Grabbing one of the other chairs at the desk you were sitting at, he turns it around so that he can comfortably straddle it.

‘Uhh, well that’s where you’re wrong because it just so happens that my favourite girl’s ex is bothering her, and if she’s gotta problem with it… then so do I’ he sassily bites back, referring to you in the third person as he rests his taut forearms onto the spine of the chair, which gives himself something to lean on.

You have to ignore the way your stomach flips when he calls you his favourite girl, and you shyly flit your eyes to the floor whilst still fumbling around with the tattoo gun.

‘Well um… he just- he just keeps uhh’ you start, stuttering and having to sigh in utter frustration at not even being able to articulate your words properly.

Suddenly your eyes feel hot, and they sting a little. You are not going to cry in front of him. You panic when your voice wobbles and try to regain your composure as Chris looks at you with a worried expression.

‘Hey- hey… s’okay cherry, s’alright. Take your time, I’m here’.

Chris notices your flustered state and coos gentle reassurance at you whilst stretching one of his hands out to softly stroke the ball of your shoulder, right on the section of naked skin where the fabric of your top straps don’t quite reach.

You want to say that Chris is just being friendly, but somehow, the way he touches you tells a different story. It could have just been a harmless pat, but instead he had curled the knuckles of his hand and used them to soothingly skim up and down your skin, slowly, repetitively… almost sensually.

Chris liked any excuse to touch you. You were so soft and supple, a major contrast to his own skin. And he hated seeing a man like that crumple you up like a simple ball of paper and toss you into the trash.

You take one last stuttering breath before continuing.

Gazing at Chris’ soft smile and focusing on the calming gleam of his nose piercing, you find yourself relaxing once again as you take your time to look at each of his individual statement pieces whilst relaying your story.

His silver nose ring, his two lobe piercings that were decorated with spiked metal hoops, and his helix piercing, that came in the form of a small snake charm. It shone in the natural light of the room as it slithered up the expanse of his cartilage and provided a nice distraction for you.

‘I don’t know… h-he’s just saying these disgusting things about my body, and- and how I’m never going to find someone that will treat me better than him in bed. Just general filthy shit like that…’ you mumble, feeling absolutely humiliated and degraded at having to tell Chris about what Max has been saying to you as you sniffle and rub your nose.

As you explain yourself, the motion of Chris stroking your arm slows up significantly, and his little smile fades with every word you speak to him. His eyes narrow, something you noticed he does whenever he’s seething with rage.

‘Gimme your phone, I wanna see these texts’ Chris quips demandingly, using the hand that was once rubbing your skin to unfold itself and silently ask for your phone.

You sigh and hand it to him without much of a fight. You know that there’s no use in trying to argue with Chris when he gets like this. He’s driven, and once he has an idea there’s rarely anything you can do to deter him from it.

He unlocks your phone, already knowing your password, and starts to scroll through the endless shower of sexually abusive messages. You bite your lip as you look at him reading them over.

He sits on the backwards chair with his jean-clad thighs casually spread out, still one arm resting on top of the spine whilst the other one holds the phone and vigorously scrolls downwards.

You then flick your eyes to his face, and the way his rosy lips wet themselves as they quietly announce some of the words that he reads back to himself. The further down he goes the more furrowed his brows get.

Suddenly he shakes his head with an angry tick and slams your phone face down onto the table. You jump slightly at this, and blink at a Chris that had immediately shot to a stand.

‘That’s it, m’not dealing with this shit anymore. If he can’t leave you the fuck alone then I’ll make him.’

You look at him in confusion.

‘What’s that supposed to mean…?’ you shyly trail off but your question is shortly answered as soon as Chris bends down to level with you and seamlessly digs his palms into your thighs so that he can pluck you up from off of your chair.

You yelp a little in shock, your heartbeat thrumming against your ribcage before you quietly recover as Chris curls your legs around his hips. Upon touch, your hands instinctively fly to grip onto the back of his neck, his skin being warm and tepid.

The scruff of his long hair feels like satin tickling over your fingers and Chris groans in achievement as soon as he feels your thighs tense against his waist.

He’s been waiting for an excuse to do this.

‘Max is tellin’ you that you’re never gonna get a better fuck than him? Well I’m about to prove him wrong, s’that okay with you, cherry?’ Chris asks, not really expecting no for an answer as he starts to walk over the squeaking floorboards to the backrooms of the shop.

He knows exactly where he’s going and something deep within your core flutters at this assertive kind of attitude.

Chris has always been the extremely blunt and forward type of guy- if you looked pretty that day, he’d tell you, and make it obvious that he was attracted to you.

Today was no different, you could tell he had every intention of fucking you and making it extremely clear to Max just how good he was going to do it.

‘Y-yeah’ is just about all you can muster in your shaky state.

As you look down at Chris’ face, his chocolatey waves tussle in a rather wild-looking way whilst nestled about his pierced ears. Your fingers timidly skim about his neck, and one of them draws nervous patterns over the black bat tattoo situated behind his right ear that he had gotten for his brother a year ago.

‘That’s my girl’ he praises cockily as he barges through the beaded entrance way into one of the client operating rooms. There’s a black leather stretcher in the centre of the room and a stool sitting idle right beside it where the artist sits.

Chris goes straight for the client table though.

He smirks a toothy grin as he plops you down onto the spongy leather and you find it within yourself to crack an equally as excited smile. He nudges open your legs so that he can stand in between them and weighs his hands down onto your hips, pressing his thumbs into your bones and rubbing them fondly.

‘Did Max kiss you at all when you two fucked?’ He asks breathlessly with his cerulean eyes lilting down to your lips hungrily.

He’s itching to get all over you. He’s been dying to taste your tongue on his for ages and it just so happens that this posed as the perfect, sneaky way to do so.

‘Well, hm… not that much, but I guess a-’ you start to explain, but ‘not much’ is enough of a pathetic answer for Chris to fall forward and engulf your lips in between his before you can finish anyway.

Your little muffled whine of shock is swallowed by a Chris that attaches himself to your bottom lip quickly.

Winding one of his hands behind your back, he uses that - and the other one gripping your hip - to yank your body towards his. You two stay flushed together, and you can feel Chris’ throbbing prick against the seam of your pants already. He’s hard, and clearly pent up for you behind his low-waisted jeans.

‘That’s not good enough’ he mumbles, almost in a tongue-drunken stupor against your lips, criticising Max so that he can subtly defend his choice to kiss you.

Really, he had no need to, but fuck did he want to.

You don’t complain, in fact, you simply sigh at how close Chris is. You can feel his nose delicately skimming against your cheek the more he twists the side of his face to gain better access to you, and you can’t help but lust for the way his dewy lips wrap around your own.

The contrast between his cold fingertips brushing against your body and his hot tongue leeching out to slip into your open mouth makes you shiver.

‘N-no you’re completely right… that’s not good enough’ you coquettishly add on to the conversation you two have in between kisses. As you shit talk Max together, you only encourage Chris to take further jabs at him.

‘And what about these pretty little things here…? Did he touch these enough?’.

Chris’ nose trails down the line of your jaw to dip and run along the jugular vein of your neck whilst he pants desperately. He holds your sat figure into his standing leant one with one hand gripping your ass whilst the other one trails up to squeeze against one of your braless tits.

Wanting Chris to play with them, your blushing figure shakes its head and you swallow thickly. ‘No…’.

Chris hums a casual ‘huh’ in playfulness before the hand playing with it decides to slip itself under your shirt for better access. You heavily hiss and arch your back as soon as skin on skin contact is reached and Chris gingerly touches your peaked nipple.

‘You make me feel like such a pervert when you don’t wear a bra to shifts we do together because I stare at them all the time…’ Chris confesses as he gently kneads one of them within his big palm. Whilst he does this, his face buries itself into your neck to pepper sprinkles of sloppy kisses all over your skin.

‘What if I told you I do it on purpose… I like it when you look…’ you breathe with your head knocked back in pleasure. Chris stops his assault on your neck to gaze at you with raised eyebrows of shock.

‘Fuck. Max was an idiot for fumbling you…’

This makes both your heart flutter and your core drip. You like Chris’ praise a lot more than you like Max’s degradation, and make sure to let Chris know this by giving him another kiss.

‘S’mommy gonna let me suck on her tits?’ He ponders in a feigned babyish voice against your lips, the sweet lilt of his sensual tone almost making you melt into the client’s table.

Your needy reply of ‘yes’ is soon followed by an immediate response from Chris, who slowly reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

He slides it out and then presents it in front of your face with his brows raised.

‘And is mommy gonna let me film it so that I can send it to Max and let him see me having my treat?’.

Your eyes flick to the phone, then to Chris’ expectant face, absolutely drowning in lust at the thought of Chris wanting to film himself sucking on your tits. You nod without hesitation, and Chris smirks in victory.

He’s definitely using this to touch himself later.

Chris quickly fumbles around with his phone in excitement, scrubbing his home screen into his camera roll before he’s pressing the small red button to record himself propping it up onto the counter right next to where you were sitting.

You watch within a trance as Chris feeds his hands into the bottom of your top to sensually slide it right up your ribs. He then runs it over the top of your tits and leaves it to rest above them with a purr of ‘good girl’.

You feel your knees get physically weaker at the sight of Chris veering his face down into your tits, his mouth almost feathers against them as both of you look at the camera at the same time.

Chris has a little victorious smirk on his face, that he smugly flashes to his phone before turning back in and gently kissing your nipple.

He can’t stop his conniving smile as you seal your eyes shut and throw your head back, whimpering with your fingers combed into the back of his hair and tugging on it. Chris makes a show of poking out his tongue and licking you before he fully kisses one of your tits into his mouth to suck on it.

He moans a little starved whimper at the feeling of your soft flesh in his mouth whilst his tongue rolls and his teeth clamp down onto you.

His hands get grabby as you pant, listening to the way the microphone of the camera absorbs the sloppy sounds of him sucking on your skin whilst he kisses and licks wherever he can.

‘That feel good huh?’ Chris mumbles into you, and you whine in response with a stuttered ‘so- so good’. He nods cockily, eying the camera with your second tit already in between his teeth. ‘Yeah? This the best mouth you’ve ever had?’.

Struggling to fight off his smile at the comment he completely stole from Max, he knows it’ll make your ex’s blood boil, especially when you reply with an instantaneous shout of, ‘fuck- yes, I- I need more baby!’.

‘You want more?’ He drawls temptingly, pulling away from your chest that was now red and glistening, some sections littered with subtle teeth marks and some with purpling hickies.

‘I’ll give you more baby’ he laughs through his teeth before pressing his fingertips onto your core.

‘Hope you’re soaking for me, you’re gunna need it’ he quips before lightly trailing his hand up to the button of your zipper.

Your core clenches again when he pops it open, the insinuation that you need to be extra wet for him because of his size making you want to pass out in horniness.

He opens the front of your jeans before feeding his hands underneath your thighs so that he can pull you towards him and also force you onto your back to tug your jeans down.

After that, he watches the way you squirm when he sticks his fingers into the side of your sheer panties. In view of the camera, the pad of his thumb swipes up your slit as he checks your sensitivity himself.

‘Awe angel you are soaked… what a good girl for me’.

His sweet praise melts over you in the best way possible, and you can’t help but get shy and cover up your eyes to smile.

Sometimes you forget that the camera is there, but Chris never does, and he glances over at it constantly to smirk as if Max is already watching on the other end of the line before turning his attention back to admire you.

‘I’m gonna make that pretty pussy feel so fucking good momma’ Chris boldly states as he starts to fumble around with his chunky and glamorously rhinestoned belt buckle. The leather of it flaps and his buckle gives a metallic jingle whilst he undoes it, his hair falling in front of his eyes because of the downwards slant his head holds.

‘Please- I really need you’ you mumble breathlessly, spreading your legs even further in reaction to seeing the stretch of his cock against his white Calvin Klein boxers as soon as he lets his jeans drop to the floor with a heavy crumple.

From here you can see his thigh tattoo of a crooked spiders web, done in extremely fine ink, delicate but dark.

‘I know you need me baby I know- be patient alright?’ He shushes you with a reassuring coo, before sliding to the side of you and hopping up onto the table himself. He positions himself right in front of his still recording phone so that he can get the best angle for this.

‘Why don’t you go ahead an’ take off those panties for the camera sweet girl… do it for me?’.

Chris’ whiny sounding voice is just so sugary and compelling. You’re pretty sure you would do anything he asked if it really came to that extreme because along with his voice, his lips and eyes really did the trick for you.

Chris stutters a breath as soon as he pushes his hand down his boxers to take ahold of his hot, silky cock, it’s skin already wet with precome at just how divine you had sounded whilst he was attached to your tits.

He tightens his fist to squeeze himself and throbs in his hand, his mouth dropping open and his shoulders heaving as you slide off the table and strip from your clothes fully.

As soon as you’re done, you can feel your wetness trickling and sloshing about your folds, and so you squeeze your thighs together when looking at Chris for his next instruction.

Chris hungrily gazes down to your panties that lie in a messy heap on top of your jeans. ‘Gimme those?’ He commands and gestures for you to grab a hold of your panties and give them over to him, which you do obediently and without question.

Chris grasps ahold of them and balls them up into his fist before smirking at the camera once again. ‘These are mine now… so’s your pussy’.

You turn red at this low and beastly remark, trying hard not to pounce on top of Chris for saying it. He talks so smoothly. It’s as if every word his mouth forms puts you under a lemony haze of pleasure and you just can’t get enough of it.

You just don’t understand how he can keep this up when you yourself already look like a fucked-out hot mess.

‘I’m all yours Chris’

You practically flee into his awaiting arms, and he hoists your bare and pink centre over his lap.

Kissing your tits again, he grips onto your fleshy thighs and moans a whimper whilst side eyeing the camera in ultimate possessiveness, just to make a show of it being him who’s sucking your tits, and not Max.

He’s going to feel so smug and proud of himself as soon as he sends this his way.

‘Can I have your cock Chris, please?’ You beg, stroking his waves of hair once again to butter him up - not that you’d really need to work all that much to have his cock in the first place…

‘Of course you can Cherry, you’ve been so good for me’ Chris replies as his fingertips stroke against your stretch marks, before he leans in and whispers ‘help yourself…’.

You glance down to the tent in his boxers with your lip bitten and a giddy little smirk on your face. After Chris invites you, you waste no time in pulling his weeping cock from out of the restraints of his boxers.

The hip tattoo he has of a Cupid with angel wings, a halo and a winking face soon makes itself known to you after you tug his underwear down a little further. The ink of the little boy’s heart-encrusted bow and arrow cheekily point right to the base of Chris’ cock, and so you crack a smile, shaking your head fondly at Chris’ inappropriate but witty humour.

He’s thick and throbs in your hand, his tip sticky and slick as it pulses a light pink taffy colour whilst a thick blue vein pokes itself out from the side of his length to travel right down to his base. ‘Fuck’ you breathe. Chris looks at you cockily and is very much pleased with your wanton response.

‘Want you to sit on it till it hurts and you can’t no more precious girl’ he mumbles as he hitches your hips up into his hands and lifts you above him. You nod with a little ‘Uhuh’, your stomach flipping and oozing to feel the stretch of him. He’s bigger than Max, and the thought makes you careen in pleasure.

You almost forget that you two are both supposed to be at work, because all of this feels so private and intoxicating, and the implication of Chris making it into sex tape gives you life.

As soon as you’re placed on top of him, you hold his base so that you can sink down properly, and both of you choke out whines at how fucking amazing it feels.

‘Shit… still tight honey… has Max really been using you properly or is his cock just that small?’.

Chris can’t help it. He gets off on criticising your priggish ex boyfriend because he truly fucking hates his guts. And damn does it feel good to be fucking you with the intention of letting the man himself know through the recording of it.

‘Fuck, I feel so full’ you speak into the air.

You then have to bite your hand so that you don’t draw tears because of the burning stretch Chris gives you. It’s almost unbearably uncomfortable for the first minute of bottoming out.

But then it stops being uncomfortable and starts making you squirm again at needing some form of friction to move yourself.

So you do.

Lifting your hips slightly, you slip back downwards and grind forwards at the same time whilst Chris looks up at you with star-ridden irises. They twinkle in the light and he pants heavily after every time you move.

He soon starts to naturally move himself, needing to respond to you in some sort of way.

He loves watching your tits bounce whilst you rise and fall onto his cock, the sticky slickness of it slapping within his ears and making him want to come all over your insides already. You squeeze him so fucking well, and he equally stretches you out to the limit.

The rough skin of his prick steadily rubs against your walls and ignites an explosion of sensitivity within your centre whenever Chris pushes himself far enough to hit your g-spot. He’s so big he almost bulges from your stomach.

‘Who owns this pussy, who does it belong to?’ He barks as you squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch your nose up, having to slam your head onto his shoulder because of your overstimulation in pleasure.

You stutter out a quick ‘ugh- y-you’ as you feel Chris’ fingers grab onto your hips because of their slowing roll. He digs them into your skin and starts to move you himself at an even faster pace which makes you whine even louder.

‘Sorry… not quite sure Max heard you- can you say that again for me Cherry?’ Chris meanly rebutts and makes your cheeks flame red after he actually takes his palm and harshly swats it against the side of your thigh. You yelp at the brash cracking sound the sweaty skin-on-skin contact creates, but nevertheless still cry a humiliated ‘you!’.

Chris praises you immediately after with a soothing ‘that’s right… good girl’, before starting up his sly and conniving antics once again.

‘And whose name are you gonna be screaming from now on hmm?’.

Chris’ little taunting hum is fucking petty. But also, just what you need to finally cum.

‘Yours Chris! Fuck- all yours!!’.

You’re almost shouting as you arch your spine and throw your head back in ecstasy whilst your legs quiver and an almighty wave of euphoria rushes over your whole entire being.

‘Awe baby… cumming already? I was just getting started…’ Chris coos cockily as he lets go of one of your hips to soothingly stroke against your back with a pretty pout on his lips.

However that pout doesn’t stay for long because it struggles to fight the smirk that quickly overtakes his facial expression at the thought of how quickly he had made you cum.

He glances at the camera once more, to admire the position the both of you were in with dilated eyes, before focusing back onto you and speedily forcing your hips up and down a couple more times to finish himself off.

You squeak and claw at him in overstimulated pain, whining for him to slow down, but all he does is gently hush you in comfort. ‘I know shhh, I know. Wanna make sure I fill you up nice and good though baby’.

His voice is so gentle, and in lulls you into a drooling stupor with tears in your eyes as you claw at his tattooed back with your sharp nails. That’s going to leave heafty scratch marks.

Chris is tempted to wipe them away, but doesn’t have enough time before he’s groaning loudly and his tip is uncontrollable squirting out thick ropes of cum.

He bounces your hips a couple more times to get rid of as much as he possibly can. He wants to see it practically leaking from out of your abused hole. After he thinks you’ve milked him dry, he lets go of your bruised waist and you crumple back down into his embrace.

He rubs your back as you try to desperately regain your breath with your core raw, stinging and slimy with Chris’ cum.

‘There’s my good girl… taking all of me like that. Swear I’ll give you my babies next time you take me that well.’ He absentmindedly praises you for the last time, and you find it within yourself to laugh in disbelief, shaking your head before you slap his shoulder and lean upwards to look at him in the eyes once more.

‘Okay… you’ve proved your point. Now stop recording so I can kiss you a little more.’

Your thumbs stroke the bags underneath his eyes, and his smile is so sunny that you’re sure it could have opened up flowers on a dewy spring morning.

‘Yes ma’am…’

. ♱ .

Later that evening, Chris had sat alone in the tattoo parlour.

He had told you that you could go home early and that he’d sanitise the rooms and lock up as a special treat for you.

You had done as you were told and left a while ago, which left Chris to watch back the sex tape that you two had made earlier with a mean and satisfied smirk slapped over his lips.

He had rewatched it about 3 times, admiring the way both of you had moved with the volume all the way up to listen to your heavenly sounding whimpers. He had replayed his favourite bits a great deal and was fucking obsessed. He couldn’t help himself.

He had then exited the camera app and went straight into Instagram, searching up Max’s account profile to slide into his DMs.

With one final smirk, he had bitten his lip victoriously and selected the video of you and him together before attaching it and typing one final thing before clicking the send button and locking his phone.

Might wanna think next time you make bold allegations about how she’ll never find a better D x

. ♱ .

Author’s notes p.2: guys I’m actually so sorry for disappearing off the face of Tumblr for fuck knows how long without an explanation. Truthfully there isn’t really much of an explanation apart from the fact that I’ve simply been too busy to write (and have also had major writers block atm- hence me and @luv4kozume collab taking so long lol). BUT I’m back with something that has actually turned into one of my favourite pieces of writing on this blog, so I hope it’s been worth the wait!! I love all of you guys for asking where I’ve been and equally as much for missing me. I’ve missed writing for you guys so much and am absolutely obsessed with tattoo artist!Chris, also don’t worry you guys, you’ll get cherry popper 3 one of these days lmao… Anyways, until next time cherry pies!! 🍒

Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattslolita @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader

[byechristopher]

can u do a fic where chris and reader are dating but reader gets insecure because she sees all these old pics and vids of chris with this girl he used to be with but they talk about it and they say to each other they're in love for the first time this is bad sorry but i'm lowkey sad and need this

Trust Me.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO FLUFF.

Author's note: Hey there, thank you for the request! Now, I didn't know how to bring up the old photos, so y e s, I used snapchat memories (happened to me, so..). I hope you like it either way. 🤍 Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: None, sliiight angst. Did not proofread!

Usually, I'm not one to stare at people, but when it comes to Chris, I can never resist, even when he's doing the simplest tasks. We've only been dating for a couple of months, and while I wouldn't label myself as "obsessed," I find myself captivated by him.

My thoughts are interrupted by Chris (not that I mind) as I sit on the pavement, and he bends over to gently kiss the top of my head, his hands cupping my cheeks. I smile and grasp his hands, looking up at him to see his beautiful smile.

"Beautiful day today, huh?" he says, sitting down beside me, his head tilted back, soaking in the sunshine.

I gaze at him, appreciating the way the sun highlights his curls, makes his skin glow, and brings out the pink in his lips and the icy blue of his eyes. God.

"Yes, very beautiful," I chuckle, joining him in looking up at the sky, letting the sun caress my face as well.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" he smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him so that he can press a kiss on my cheek.

"Yes, yes. Can I play that game on your phone?" I grin, knowing he is not able to resist that and he chuckles, giving me his phone.

"Here you go, babe."

He leaves and I immediately unlock his phone. I want to start the game but a notification from snapchat pops up and I accidentally press on it. I roll my eyes because it is one of these "memories" thingies, it said two years ago.

When it opens, my stomach drops. A few pictures and a video of Chris and his ex girlfriend are under this notification. I know I shouldn't feel anything but I do. Especially when I see how tightly he's holding her, the way he looks into her eyes. The video is my last straw – he's cupping her cheeks while pressing kisses all over her face, saying over and over again how much he loves her. He sounds very genuine. He's never told me he loves me. Ouch.

I quickly close the app and lock his phone, not in the mood to play any of the games on his phone anymore. I can't fathom my emotions – perhaps because I've already fallen for him, and the fact that he might not love me just yet triggers an unsettling feeling within me. Not a positive one.

I go back inside the apartment because I am not in the mood to enjoy any type of sunshine either, so when he's done and he doesn't see me there, he gets confused.

"Babe? Where are you?" his shouts reach me, and I take a deep breath, wondering whether I should tell him anything or just leave it be.

"Hey, I'm up here." I say, standing on top of the stairs as I look down at him.

His smile brightens and he starts walking up the stairs to meet me – he's got a fresh hoodie on now, his hair is damp and the fact that he looks like the cutest human being on earth doesn't help with the fact that I want to cry.

"Why'd you leave? I thought you wanted to stay outside for a while," he questions, pulling me close for a kiss.

"Yeah, just not in the mood," I shrug, failing to force a smile before heading to the bedroom.

"Babe." he follows, concerned, "is there something wrong?" he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"No.. just.. everything's fine." I realise how stupid I will sound if I say anything so now I am just stuck with my mood swings.

"You know you can tell me everything, yes?" he gets on his knees right in front of me as I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, placing his hands on my thighs and giving them a small reassuring squeeze.

I look down at him, then down to my fingers, really considering telling him now. With a small sigh, I cover my face with both hands, "I accidentally opened your snapchat memories." I say, really getting embarrassed now, "and it was you.. with.. yeah."

I can hear him sighing as well, knowing what I'm talking about, but he doesn't say anything for a while. Instead, he grabs my hands gently pulling them away from my face, bringing them both close to his lips so he can kiss them.

"Baby.. you know this means absolutely nothing now, right?" his voice is so sweet and gentle, like honey, it makes me want to cry.

"I know.. please, I just.. I don't know why I'm feeling this way." I know exactly why I'm feeling that way but I would never tell him that, he'd be so uncomfortable. Especially if he doesn't love me back just yet.

"It's normal, I think I would feel the same way if I saw you with your ex." he nods, still pressing kisses to the palms of my hands, "but you need to know that you're the only one I see. For a very long time now." his eyes look sincere as he makes sure to keep eye contact with me no matter how much I avoid it.

I don't say anything, I only nod – he gets up and quickly picks me up, making me wrap my legs around his waist as he sits at the edge of the bed with me in his lap this time. His hands touch me everywhere, my thighs, my waist, my back, my hair – his touch is feather-like, it feels dreamy.

"You know, baby.." he speaks with his gentle voice, "..I might not talk about my feelings as much as you do, but that doesn't mean I don't feel as much as you do." he buries his hand in my hair, his lips close to my ear, pressing kisses there and on my cheek.

I don't have the time to say anything because he continues, "I'm very, very bad when it comes to expressing my feelings, I think you know that by now." he chuckles a bit, making me smile a little bit, "but what I'm feeling for you, I don't think I've ever experienced before." he says and I don't want to get my hopes up but my heart definitely does something, "the moment I saw you, I knew. And that scared me. The fact that my heart felt something, by just looking at you."

I pull back just a bit to look at him, his hands now cupping my cheeks, caressing my skin, "and still to this day, even after all these months, I still feel the same way I felt when I first saw you." he presses his forehead against mine, kissing my lips every now and then, "I am.. madly in love with you, baby." he whispers and I almost widen my eyes.

"What–" only this word comes out of my mouth but I want to grab him and kiss him and tell him a million things. But nothing else comes out and my heart starts beating fast, like crazy.

"Yes. I am sorry if it's too soon for you. But I wanted to say it to you since like.. the first month. I just didn't want you to think of me as a weirdo.." he chuckles and I chuckle, too, "and anyway, you know I don't necessarily like expressing my feelings but sometimes it is necessary for the both of us."

"I am in love with you too.." I smile, my arms wrapping around his neck to bring him even closer to me, "and I have been for a while now." I whisper against his lips.

"Shit. You're doing it again.." he whispers, his smile so big, "the thing. My heart." he whispers again and I laugh softly.

"Stop. I love you." I say and my heart feels at peace.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around my waist again, hugging me close before kissing me again, "I love you too."

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #fanfiction #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo imagines #imagines #christopher sturniolo imagine #sturniolo imagine #imagine #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #one shot #one-shot #oneshot #sturniolo one shots #fluff #chris sturniolo angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #x reader

[glorysbox]

your writing is so good??? how!!! i’m not sure how specific is too specific, but i would absolutely love to see your take on a nsfw one shot about reader who was recently broken up with and got super used to her ex bf being super selfish and stuff during sex and somehow that comes up with your friend Leon and he offers to show you how sweet sex can actually be with someone who actually cares about your enjoyment!!!

leon x afab!reader (female pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: explicitly 18+, college aged reader + leon, established friendship, pining from leon, leon is a lil jelly, oral (f-receiving), dialogue heavy

Your best friend, Leon, is a sweetheart. No matter what it is that you're going through, he's always there for you.

That extends to this very moment—where the both of you are sat on the couch of your one-person dorm, watching TV in attempt to drown the stinging feeling of your breakup. Or... trying to, at least. In reality, you've been venting to him about the sorry state of your now failed relationship. You have all of his attention, of course. You always do.

"I should've listened to you the first time," You mumble, head resting on the shoulder of your best friend, tone laced with sadness. Leon's warmth is comforting, a welcome reprieve to the icebox that is your dorm. "You were right. He was a jerk. A selfish jerk."

"Selfish?" He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. His chest is just as, if not more comfortable than his shoulder. You take the opportunity to shift closer to him, settling yourself in his arms... just like old times, really. He's lucky his hair covers the bright red of his ears at the feeling of you sitting on his lap. "L—like... how?"

"He was just... selfish," You mutter, sniffling for a few moments as you absentmindedly toy with the hem of his shirt. "It was always about him. He never bought me anything or made me feel special or..." He notes the way you trail off, icy blue eyes trained on the pretty features of your face as his heart squeezes at the sight of your frown. He really did try to tell you... he also wanted to tell you that you could do so much better with him.

"Or?"

"He never..." You pause for a moment, gnawing on your bottom lip in attempt to find a tactful way to tell Leon the truth. He's your best friend, though. You can tell him anything, right?

"Never...?"

"... you know. When we were... together, he never really... took care of me. Helped me," Your voice drops in volume. "finish."

"Oh."

There's silence for what feels like forever. With your head leaning on his chest, you can feel his heart rate picking up—matching the pace of your own heart. Leon is having an internal conflict right now. His mind feels fuzzy, his hands are clammy—and most importantly, he's as hard as a rock in his red-and-black checkered pajama pants. Go for it, He tells himself, The worst she could say is no. Be a man.

"S—so you've never..." He swallows, Adam's Apple visibly bobbing. "He never, uh... got you to cum?"

"I feel like you're making fun of me."

"No! No. I'm not, I swear. I was just asking. Well, I wanted to know because—well, I..." Leon swallows again, face turning red, as his eyes dart across your room. Posters, the TV, your bed, anything that's not your face. "I—I just... you know. I'm not selfish."

"...what is that supposed to mean?"

"I just... I know he was your first, and everything, but..." He wishes he was your first. "You know, sex isn't all selfish. I could, uh... show you, maybe—you don't have to say yes or anything. Just... letting you know that the option is there."

"O—oh..." The air of the dorm room is suddenly uncomfortably stuffy at Leon's offer—you find yourself no longer nervously playing with his shirt, instead playing with your own hands. He thinks it's cute. Not like he'd say that, though—in his mind, he's already fucked up too much.

"Just.... just forget it. Forget I said anything. Uh... sorry," Leon swallows again—a nervous tick of his—as he avoids your gaze after the nervous stuttered words fall from his lips. His mind is racing now—Was this a mistake? She doesn't even see me that way, does she? Did I just fuck up our friendship?

"No! No—it's okay. I'm not... mad or anything." You still avoid his gaze, face disturbingly hot at the prospect of your best friend since forever making you cum. "Um, actually..."

"Yeah?" It's hard to not notice the way he instantly perks up at your response—blue eyes widening and trained on you and facial expression akin to an excited puppy.

"... it... won't change anything between us, right? Because I—"

"No! No, it won't. I swear... it can be a one and done type thing. Just... I can help show you how it's supposed to be done...?" Leon doesn't even really sound sure of himself. He can't even really think, actually—his cock is throbbing so hard that his mind is all jumbled. All he can think about is how you'd look under those clothes. Deep down, though, he really does just want to make you happy. He loves you, after all. As a friend. "Yeah."

You'd be lying if you said your panties weren't soaked through right now.

"Okay... well... show me..." And Leon wastes no time reaching for you, shuffling so that you're situated under him on the couch. His hands tug at the thick material of the sweatshirt you're wearing—his sweatshirt. He makes quick work of it, pulling it over your head and tossing it on the arm of the couch. Big hands run up and down your body, taking a moment to savor the softness of your skin. Something he's wanted to do for a long, long time. He pauses, looking you in the eyes. You feel vulnerable under his gaze.

"Just... tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable in any way. We could stop." His hands, then, continue to feel along your body. Leon hesitates for a few moments—but you feel his hands ghosting along the skin of your breasts. He's gentle. He always is with you. "Can I?"

He waits patiently, focusing on the expressions of your face, hands pressed on your ribcage. He's handsome like this, you realize. Leon was always handsome to you—and everyone else—but to see his face flushed, pupils blown, and lip red and bitten for you is... something else. You nod, and Leon takes the opportunity to give your breasts a tight squeeze. Another thing he's wanted to do to you for a long time.

"You're beautiful," He comments, absentmindedly, hand traveling to the hem of your matching blue-and-black checkered pajama pants. He fiddles with the hem of it, half teasing and half awkward fumbling. It's not long before he's pulled them out from under you, tossing them across the room in a subdued fervor. "That guy is really missing out."

"You—" A gasp slips from your lips as you can feel Leon's finger gliding along the cloth of your panties—light in pressure as he drags it down from your clit to the hole. "D—don't have to... bring him up."

"I want to," He leans forward, lips pressing on your own with certain softness. His lips are cool as they meet yours, and they taste like ice cream. You're sure yours do too, considering the fact that you were both drowning in it just a few moments ago and watching a movie that's long been forgotten. "He's a good reminder that you should listen to me more often."

You mumble a shut up that gets lost in the sea of kisses he places on your lips.

"Did he touch you like this?" Leon questions in a low tone. His finger drags over the cloth of your panties again, his eyes trained on the dark-colored wet spot that stains them. You watch him, eyes half lidded, noting the way his tongue darts out across his bottom lip with each motion he makes up and down your clothed pussy.

You nod.

"Were you wet like this for him, too?" You swear there's an undercurrent of jealousy in his tone.

You shake your head.

"Good." His tone is slightly clipped as he hooks a finger under the crotch of your panties. Once more, he drags up and down your folds—collecting the sticky slick that's seeping out of you more each minute. A needy moan slips from your lips. One that he's desperate to hear more of. His free hand pulls on the hem of your panties, slipping them out from under you.

"C'mere." He mutters, gripping the underside of your ass to pull you further on your back. Leon drags you closer to him, hands resting on the skin of your hips as he lowers himself down.

It takes a few moments in your horny-induced brain fog to realize that he's about to eat you out—the only thing snapping your mind out of it is the feeling of his cool breath fanning on your folds. You grab his hair quickly, stopping him from dipping into uncharted territory.

He hates to admit that he might've whimpered a little at the feeling.

"H—hey... Leon, you don't have to... I—I mean, it's... embarrassing—can't you just finger me or something?" You question, voice meek and legs threatening to close at the sudden wave of nervousness washes over you. You trust Leon. With your life... but still. Being this exposed...

"Embarrassing?" He questions, hands gripped around your thighs to prevent them from closing any further. One eyebrow of his is raised. "It's not embarrassing. You're hot."

"That's—" You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I'm just... he never—"

"I thought you didn't want to bring him up anymore." It's hard to miss the hunger that burns in his gaze, evident in the way he looks at you. You think maybe, just this once, it won't be so bad to let Leon be right for once. Loosening your grip on his hair, you very slowly and hesitantly open your legs for him once more.

He settles, bringing his head further in the valley between your thighs. Leon even goes as far as to pepper kisses along the soft skin of your inner thigh—which only makes your hips uncontrollably squirm at the feeling of him teasing you. You don't even realize the way you're holding your breath.

"So pretty," He mutters again. Your face only just feels hotter at this—not even from the fact that his face is buried in between your thighs, but from the genuine way that he's complimenting you. You're aching, by now—your arousal leaving little trails where it drips down onto the couch. "I'm the only one that can do this to you."

You mean to question what he means by that, but the words escape you at the feeling of his tongue dragging along your slick folds. The words you want to say come out as a whiny moan—something you would've been far more embarrassed about if you were cognizant right now. You're not. Too focused on the feeling of his tongue languidly working over your folds; collecting the wetness that now dribbles down his chin. Your hand unconsciously reaches for his hair again, tangling in the dirty-blonde locks as an anchor.

Leon's tongue laps at you, prodding at your needy hole—lips wrapping around the bud of your clit and sucking lightly. His fingers are dug into the meat of your ass, keeping you in place—pulling you closer as he drowns himself in your pussy.

There's nothing that compares to this, truly. The feeling of Leon's tongue on yours, the sight of him in between your thighs, the eye contact you make with his eyes half lidded and pupils dangerously blown.

His tongue is merciless against you, breaching the tightness of your hole one time too many; your hips bucking against his face and moans freely falling from your lips at the sensation. Your best friend is really, really good at this. Of course he is. He's only imagined doing this to you about a thousand times.

"L—Leon, I can't—feels good, 'm gonna—" Each thought is cut off by another, your hips writhing under him with no escape. You're hovering on the edge of something, vision going spotty and body trembling and shuddering on it's own. The taut grip of your fingers tighten in his dirty brown strands—earning an especially hard suck from his lips to your clit. Leon's motions grow needier, tongue rubbing sloppy circles on your clit as your thighs clamp around his head. He's not even using his fingers and you're this close to cumming. It's too much.

It's not even been five minutes, and you're already tugging on Leon's hair as you cum on his face. Pulling him closer; pushing him away—you don't know what you want. You can't think—the feeling of your aching pussy throbbing too much as it clenches around nothingness and spasms on his tongue. You cum hard, and it washes over you in waves. You moan something that sounds similar to his name and an oh god please—unintelligible as his hands dig into the fat of your ass.

Leon laps at your folds through your orgasm, desperate to collect any of your slick arousal left. It's only a few moments after that you're really pushing him from the place between your legs.

"You're..." He's dazed. His face is covered in your wetness—his tongue darting out to collect what's left on his lips. "You taste amazing." He really wants to tell you that he'd live in between your thighs if you'd let him... but for now, Leon decides to take it slowly.

And you? You've forgotten all about your ex-boyfriend.

#kinda sweet kinda awkward everything all at once #hope u like! #leon scott kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #nsydfw #re #resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil 2 #writing

[thatdammchickennugget]

Twists Of Fate

pairing -james potter x fem!reader

summary - a chance reunion at a wedding leads to unexpected sparks between you and james

warnings - shitty ex, james is a danger to everyone around him, fluff

wordcount - 2.2k

You're standing near the edge of the dance floor, nursing a glass of champagne and pretending to be deeply interested in the intricacies of your friend's wedding decor. The fairy lights twinkle overhead, casting a warm glow on the happy couples swirling around you. You try to focus on the joy of the occasion, but your mind keeps drifting back to the events of the past few weeks.

Your ex-boyfriend, the one who decided that your relationship wasn't worth more than a passing fling, is here. And not only is he here, but he's here with a new girl, draped on his arm like the latest fashion accessory. Every time you catch sight of them, your heart twists painfully in your chest.

"Hey, you look great," he says after walking up to you, a smug smile playing on his lips as his new girlfriend giggles beside him. "Too bad things didn't work out between us, huh?"

Before you can formulate a response that doesn't involve throwing your drink in his face, he leans in closer, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Listen, I just wanted to say that I hope we can still be friends, you know? It's not like we ended things on bad terms or anything."

You bite back a bitter laugh, nodding along as if his words actually mean something to you. In your opinion, him cheating on you and then blaming his mistake on you left you far from ‘on good terms’. Inside, you're seething with anger and frustration. How dare he waltz in here with his new conquest, acting like he's the picture of decency?

But just as you're about to excuse yourself and find someplace else to drown your sorrows, a voice interrupts.

"Sweetheart, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

You blink in surprise as James Potter, of all people, strides up to you, an easy grin on his face. He slips an arm around your waist, drawing you close. His touch is warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the icy dread pooling in your stomach.

"James?" you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

Of course you remember him from school. Everyone knew of him. You had talked to him once in a while during your time at school, mostly when he found himself interrupting your study sessions with Remus in the library, but since graduating two years ago your paths hadn’t crossed again until right now.

He doesn't miss a beat, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Sorry I'm late, love. Got caught up trying to find a decent tie. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find one that matches your eyes?"

Your eyes fall down to his broad chest on their own accord, and to your surprise, his tie actually happens to match almost perfectly.

Your ex is staring, slack-jawed, clearly not expecting this turn of events. James turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think we've met. I'm James, her date."

"Date?" your ex echoes, the smugness evaporating from his expression.

"Yes, date," James repeats cheerfully, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You know, the person you bring to events like this to remind you what it's like to have someone who actually appreciates your company. But hey, I get it, it can be confusing for some people."

You can't help but stifle a laugh at the way he says it, his tone so breezy and unbothered. You decide to play along, slipping your arm around his in return.

"Thanks for coming to find me," you say, trying to sound as natural as possible. "I was just about to head back to the dance floor."

James winks at you, his grin widening. "Anything for you, darling."

As he leads you away, you glance back to see your ex still standing there, looking utterly flabbergasted. It's a small victory, but it feels monumental.

"You didn't have to do that," you murmur once you're out of earshot.

James shrugs, his expression softening. "Seemed like you could use a hand. Plus, it’s always fun to mess with someone who clearly deserves it."

You laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing a bit. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"Oh, I plan to collect," he says with a teasing glint in his eye. "But for now, how about a dance? You know, to really sell the whole 'date' thing."

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, Potter. One dance."

As you follow James onto the dance floor, the music envelops you, its lively beat washing away the lingering discomfort from the encounter. James wastes no time in taking the lead, his movements smooth and confident as he guides you through the crowd.

"So," he says, his voice close to your ear as he spins you effortlessly, "how's life been treating you since Hogwarts?"

You can't help but chuckle at his casual demeanor, the tension of the evening melting away with every step. "Oh, you know, the usual. Trying to navigate the treacherous waters of adulting and all that."

James grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, yes, the dreaded adulting. I hear it's a real beast but I wouldn’t know anything about that."

You nod in agreement, your laughter mingling with the music. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to worrying about O.W.L.s and Quidditch matches."

"Hey, at least in the wizarding world, adulting comes with the added bonus of using magic without getting into trouble," James quips, twirling you expertly before pulling you back into his arms. "Although, I suppose dealing with an ex at a wedding could be considered a form of dark magic."

You playfully swat at his arm, unable to suppress a grin. "You're terrible, you know that?"

He grins back, his eyes alight with mischief. "Guilty as charged. But hey, at least I'm charmingly terrible."

As the song shifts to a more upbeat tempo, James takes advantage of the moment to unleash his dance moves. Except, instead of smooth and confident, his movements are more like a cross between a flailing Hippogriff and a clumsy first-year attempting a Transfiguration spell.

You can't help but burst into laughter at the sight of him, his arms flapping wildly and his feet stumbling over each other. "Merlin's beard, James! Are you trying to hex the dance floor or something?"

He shoots you a mock offended look, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oi, watch it! I'll have you know, I'm a dance prodigy in the making."

You raise an eyebrow, unable to contain your grin. "Prodigy? More like a disaster waiting to happen."

Undeterred, James continues to dance with reckless abandon, his movements becoming increasingly exaggerated with each passing moment. He spins and twirls, his limbs flying in all directions as if controlled by an unseen force.

"Alright, alright, I admit it," he says between gasps for breath, his cheeks flushed with exertion. "Maybe I'm not the next Fred Astaire, but at least I'm having fun. And getting to see that pretty smile of yours is worth making a fool of myself."

You can't help but feel a warmth spread through you at James's words, his sincerity cutting through the playful banter. Despite his less-than-graceful moves, there's an endearing charm to his earnestness that you can't help but admire.

"Well, in that case," you say with a teasing grin, "I suppose I can forgive your questionable dancing skills."

James grins back, his eyes shining with amusement. "Gee, thanks. I'll try not to let it go to my head."

As the music continues to pulse around you, you find yourself caught up in the moment, dancing with James in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. Together, you move in sync, your steps perfectly imperfect as you twirl and sway to the rhythm of the music.

Just as you're both getting into the swing of things, James's exuberant movements nearly send him crashing into an elderly witch who's been watching the dance floor with a bemused expression. You gasp, reaching out instinctively to steady her, but James, ever the smooth talker, beats you to it.

"Whoa there, almost lost my footing!" James exclaims, flashing the woman his most charming smile. "But don't worry, I'm as steady as a Hippogriff on a broomstick."

The elderly witch chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, steady or not, you certainly know how to liven up a party, young man."

James grins, his charm dial turned up to maximum. "Why, thank you, ma'am. It's all in a day's work for a dashing wizard like myself."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his shameless flattery, but the elderly witch seems thoroughly charmed, her laughter filling the air as James regales her with tales of his misadventures on the dance floor.

After a few minutes of chatting, you gently suggest that perhaps it's best to continue the conversation off the dance floor to avoid any more accidents. The elderly witch nods in agreement, bidding James farewell with a fond pat on the arm.

As you lead James away, the two of you share a knowing grin. "Smooth move, Potter," you tease, nudging him playfully.

James chuckles as he throws an arm over your shoulders. "What can I say? Charming old witches is just one of my many talents."

You shake your head in mock exasperation, but there's a warmth spreading through you at the easy camaraderie between you. Despite the chaos of the evening, being with James feels surprisingly natural, as if you were hanging out with an old friend rather than just an aquaintance.

At the bar, James orders a couple of drinks, and you find a quiet corner to settle into. The soft glow of the fairy lights creates an intimate atmosphere, and as you sip your drink, you find yourself relaxing in his company.

"So," James begins, leaning back in his chair with a playful glint in his eyes, "tell me something interesting about yourself that I wouldn't know from our Hogwarts days."

You ponder for a moment, swirling the liquid in your glass thoughtfully. "Well, I've developed quite the talent for baking since leaving school. There's something therapeutic about kneading dough and watching it rise."

James raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Is that so? I'll have to enlist you as my personal pastry chef sometime."

You laugh, nudging him playfully. "Don't get your hopes up. My baking skills might be up to par with your dancing."

James chuckles. "Well, I guess that means we'll have to stick to takeout for our first date then."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, Potter?"

James leans in, his grin widening. "Consider it a formal invitation. How about dinner at that new Italian place in Diagon Alley tomorrow? I hear they have the best tiramisu."

You pretend to mull it over, though your heart is already racing with excitement. "Hmm, Italian food and dessert? Sounds tempting. I suppose I could pencil you into my busy schedule."

James feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Penciled in? I demand top priority, thank you very much."

You laugh, the warmth of his playful banter melting away any lingering reservations. "Alright, you win. Dinner it is."

"Excellent," James says with a satisfied grin. "I'll pick you up at seven, then?"

You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation at the prospect of spending more time with him. "Seven it is. I'll be ready."

As you both finish your drinks, James suddenly feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see the elderly witch from earlier, a twinkle in her eye.

"Excuse me, young man," she says with a smile, "but would you care to dance with an old lady like me?"

James's grin widens at the unexpected invitation. "Of course, I'd be honored!"

He shoots you an apologetic look before following the woman onto the dance floor, leaving you chuckling at his eagerness. Watching James twirl the elderly witch with surprising grace, you can't help but feel a fondness for him grow.

As you observe them dance, you realize just how lucky you are to have him by your side tonight. Despite the chaos of the wedding and the presence of your ex, James has managed to turn what could have been a disastrous evening into one filled with laughter and joy.

After a few minutes, James returns to your side with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that. Couldn't resist the opportunity to show off my moves to a new audience."

You laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "No need to apologize. You’re quite the hit out there."

James beams at the compliment, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, I aim to please."

As you both make your way towards the exit and he bids you farewell with a cheesy kiss on your hand, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Tomorrow's date with James suddenly feels like the highlight of your week, and you can't wait to see where this newfound connection will take you.

James Taglist - @urmomsgirlfriend1 @remussbitch @starsval @whoknowsbut @gayforyelena @marauderswhxre @ravenclawprincess33 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @Yhiiil @themarauderswife7 @ihatemyexs @starsval @bath1lda @Allshitsangiggles @mildly-delulu @vcosette @rinalouu @agent-tempest @S0urw00lf @pinkestfloyd @l0v3do11 @Unstablereader @wolfstar-marvelsfan @captainstanksblog @pinktreee @ceehance @andrew-and-flower @cas-planet @csmt_m @poppysrin @camille-1019 @Laniirackssss @bshwrites @slytherinambitious @notyaslol @txzii @yourenogoodforme @starzioo @darkenwolfie @bunnyweasley23

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

Get Added To The Taglist

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauder x reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #mari writes

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Yandere Ex - Sensitive Reader

CW: NSFW, Obsession, Male Yandere,

Part One (Optional)

Note: Thank you @stuff6969fuckyou for the suggestion! Remember, requests are OPEN and I can do general requests like this ^^ Since I don't have much insight on BPD, they'll be hypersensitive in this one. When I get a bit more research done into BPD I'd love to write a yandere x reader with BPD for you!

You never asked to be so emotional. So soft hearted. Yet, that's what drew your ex to you in the first place. While he couldn't even muster a tear at a funeral, you were a bawling mess if the dog died in a movie. And God, he wanted all that to be his again...

You were the heart he lost years ago. The person who was slowly warming him up in those little ways. But... While you DID show you cared, he scared you. Terrified you, even! Arguments lead to you breaking down into pure sobs while he stands unchanged. He would never care for any animals you brought over, only spare them passing glances and shove them off if they wanted affection.

So you told him. You told him that he never cared and it scared you. When he first heard you say it, the words didn't even process in his mind. When they did? This man spent weeks trying to appear much more caring.

He adopted an orange cat and named him Buddy. Changed his home's decor from bland and beige into soothing greens and even hung (safe) houseplants all over. Some parts are intentionally messy as to come off more lived in. Even changed his look from sharp to messy yet charming. It lured you in all over again. It worked! This is the man you really wanted to see, and you played right into the trap.

Now he's got you pinned to the soft blue bed. Taking what was rightfully his. He spent weeks pleasing himself with that cold hardened hand of his- and now he had his soft cuddly lover back. Even with the home change, his rough ways of handling you never changed. He would go at you in any position- the only difference being how close he would hold you now. Keeping his icy body warm with yours. Something in you could just feel that same man that scared you, but it's a little late now.

"That... That was fun! I'm glad I came back-" You try to get up from the bed just to realize one of the restraints still held you back. "I'm glad you're back too. Would you like coffee? Tea?" This is the first time you've seen this man smile, but it still feels... Off. "I think you forgot to take one of the ropes off..."

"Oh, I didn't forget anything."

"I'm sorry...?"

"I didn't forget anything. You decided to come back, so that means you must want to stay this time, right? I even got you a friend to keep you company. Now, stay and wait while I get you something to drink."

He's kidding... He's kidding! He wouldn't keep you here! Despite trying to reassure yourself of his jokes, you knew damn well you played into his hands. You fell for this trap all over again- this act that he put on to keep little sensitive you here. Buddy leapt right onto the bed and curled at your feet, purring loudly and making little biscuits.

Cry all you want, but you're here now. You got yourself trapped all over again, and terrors rarely let prey escape twice.

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #imagines #x reader #reader insert #yandere crush #yandere

[divineidolatry]

CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER 1

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

tags: exes to lovers, it's complicated, slow burn but they're constantly fucking, manipulation, toxic relationship, power play, unprotected sex, bdsm, dom!coriolanus, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spit kink, bondage, pearl play, choking, shoe riding, degradation, dirty talk, brat taming, penetrative sex (piv), aftercare

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 4,352

just before our love got lost you said "i am as constant as a northern star" and i said "constantly in the darkness, where's that at? if you want me i'll be in the bar."

“Coriolanus…” You drop the silver cutlery on the fine porcelain, the sound sharp enough that he winces. Good. This should hurt him as much as it hurts you. “What are we even doing anymore?”

His face holds that cold expression you can’t read, beautiful and impossible, a question you saw the first day you met him and you knew you wanted to crack him open.

You always knew he had ambition, and you possessed plenty to match. Power called to you from an early age, you’d just gotten smarter about you grabbed it. Still, he made you better. He made you sharper. And in turn, you could make him look soft enough to please.

But the parts of you that slotted together like perfect gears before had grown jagged and mismatched now. His ambitions mean more than you. They come before you. A part of you thinks it would be okay if he still made room for you at the end of the night, but it’s all perfunctory and dutiful.

“We need to talk. Actually talk.”

It’s not for a lack of trying to understand him, but there’s walls in Coryo that shift position, closing him off when you’re not careful enough. Talking with him turns into talking to him. He never did share much, even when you made it clear that you supported his ambitions, never troubling him with your own. You’re big girl, after all, independent and capable, you can hold your own value and underscore his. You know how to charm the worst of them and flatter the best of them, you are an asset beyond compare and yet he’s losing interest. Galling.

“I’ve been loyal, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I’ve kept clean in public so you can defile me in private. I play your game so well, and yet…” You flick your finger against the crystal wine glass, lipstick stains rimming the edge. You dressed to the nines tonight, giving him a last chance to look at you, at everything you offered him as a partner in every sense of the word. “You make me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

His silence hangs heavy and painful in the air between you two. There’s something so pristine and perfect about the room that itches in your gut, that sometimes makes you want to take the knife and stab him through the back of his hand just to see if he’d even flinch.

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?”

Oh, how icy his gaze is. It cuts right through you, past all your defenses.

These dinners, once bubbling with conversation and excited plans about the next chance you’d have to shift the board, have turned to quiet and perfunctory affairs now. He meets your eyes less and less on the university campus. You spend hours waiting for him in the quiet hallways on the top floor no one goes to, doing your seminar readings in the same hidden alcove where he once liked to make you moan so high a rumor had spread of a ghost haunting.

It doesn’t matter to you that he is busy, it mattered that he stopped including you, that he didn’t even try. And you can’t get through to him. It’s getting sad — worse, stale. On top of that, people are talking. Gossip loud enough that you could hear it from the back rows in lecture halls, of discord between Panem’s golden future and his leading lady. Bad metrics for both of you… and it fucking stings too.

His heart isn’t in your mouth anymore, and you are beginning to starve. And he’d let you.

You fold up the napkin, dropping it on top of the half-finished meal, knowing the waste will irk him. Whatever hook you still have in him you will pull on. You must. You refuse to go down without damages.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? It’s easier this way, me deciding to leave you, that way you won’t have to clean up the mess. That’s why you’ve been so cold, right?”

He doesn’t speak. Pushing the chair out, you get up and walk the length of the table, your heels clicking loud against the marble. You move close to him, press your body against his and feel the heat of his breath on your skin… but his expression does not shift, and you shake your head with a pained noise catching in your throat.

“I don’t think you are this cold,” you whisper, slipping your hand in under his shirt, pressing your fingers against his chest. His heart beats hard and strong. “I hope you realize when I’m gone…” You trail off, struggling with the words.

Silence. Again. He’s leaning back in the chair, watching you try to reconcile this… and he is letting you flounder. Has he allowed you to ask for his time with the intention to give you nothing? The cruelty in that hurts even worse.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek, scraping your nails over his skin, hoping it stings as much as his icy silence does. You gather your bag and coat, and leave his penthouse quietly.

In the elevator, you wipe at an errant tear. The air around you feels crushing but you cannot give in under pressure. You won’t.

For a few days, you don’t cry. You had foreseen this outcome to the conversation after all, made your preparations to leave as little behind as possible, and fortified yourself to understand that no matter how perfect a match you seemingly were for each other, you still actively had to choose one another. Whatever had consumed him also kept him from letting you in as he used to, and it meant he was no longer choosing you.

The barb still lodged itself deep in your chest, leaking poison all the same.

You go through the motions, brushing your hair, washing your face, studying. It’s in one of the lectures, the professor slipping through the lackluster material, that it hits like a fist between the ribs, and you clutch at your side remembering how Coryo would have made this make sense to you. It hits all at once how he’s not there, won’t be, he’s not going to make even the dullest media history class shine bright anymore.

When the tears come, it is Clemensia who wipes them away, lets your head rest in her lap, and offers to fetch the rest of your things. She was his friend first; you’d been a year under them in the Academy. When she comes back she doesn’t say if he reacted, though you doubt he was even at home. She strokes your hair, assuring you she won’t pick a side. Through all her care of you in the weeks to come, she proves her words, not letting you flinch away in public.

“Just because he plays a good game,” she reminds you, “doesn’t mean you can’t make a better move.”

You slowly get back on your feet, keeping her words in mind. She helps with applying your makeup on days when your hands are too shaky, keeping your perfectly crafted mask in place. She glues herself to your side as you attend classes, keeping it cordial with Coriolanus while your gaze slips past him. You forgot how good it felt to be someone’s priority.

“Why are you being so nice about this?” you ask one night, exasperated as she’s getting you ready for a party, squirming in your seat. You don’t feel ready for re-emerging into society, but what choice do you have? Crawl into a hole and vanish? You’d never give him the pleasure.

She rolls her eyes and gets up off the floor to fetch a dusty bottle of posca from the shelves.

“It’s not that different,” she says, handing a glass over to you. “I was in his corner too, and it bit me. Hard.” She grimaces, scratching at her wrist before rolling down the sleeve over her hands.

“Did you two…” You have wondered, after all, jealousy flickering at times like a dangerous question mark.

“Not like that! I just needed him to show up for me, to do this one thing, and he was busy chasing his own greatness.”

It's a relief to hear, mostly because you have an easier time believing her than him. “But you got over it.”

“I can’t fault him. If you’re here, it means something, and it’s not always flattering.” She wrinkles her nose at the posca even as she drinks it down. “When you want something so bad because you need to make sense of the world, to bring some sense of order to the chaos of life… I know you get it. He’s always been this way, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Her words are just a whisper as she pins curls in place on your head, her hand lingering to trace your chin as she examines your face.

Clemensia had taken a liking to doing these little things for you, drawing from a deep well of knowledge she’d amassed. It had become an outlet for her, creativity to couple with her own ambition. She liked to practice different looks on you before paring them down to a more fitting style suitable to current trends, but each flourish of her brush warmed your skin.

You knew that duality well — of wanting to create and struggling to find the time and place. Ever since you were small, your parents had clung to the idea that singing lessons and dance classes were of utmost importance, even keeping them going during the war. They wanted you to excel, rise in standing, and it had honed you.  

Unbidden, one of his old comments floats up in your mind, making your breath stutter. ‘You have the prettiest voice of all the girls in Panem, do you know that?’ And while you scoffed then, your ego bloomed under his praise. ‘Tell me more about how much you love my voice, Coryo…’

“Hey… come back to me, you better not ruin the hard work I’ve just done, I don’t do hard work for just anyone, you know?” Clemmie teases, but you can see a stern look in her eyes. You don’t have a lot of time, and she isn’t keen to waste it. “We have somewhere to be soon, okay?”

You nod. She’s right. The Capitol’s numerous galas and grand events throughout the year had kept going despite your broken heart, and tonight is the Rose Ball, an extravagant gala held in the grand conservatory with an orchestra playing and the guest list consisting of only the names of the highest esteem in the Capitol. And your name was still on it. Tonight, you intend to make sure it isn’t the last invite sent your way, no matter what.

Clemensia finishes with a lipstick red as wine, smiling as she puts her hands on your shoulders and turns you to the mirror.

“Look at you,” she says, tilting your chin up so the light catches the pearlescent shimmer dusted on your skin. “Everyone will be falling for you. And he will have no choice but to watch what he lost.”

You shiver in excitement.

You share the ride with some people Clemensia knows, and while they gossip away, you sit alone with your thoughts, the mask wavering for a moment. This is the first formal gathering you’re attending since the split… Several months of picking up the pieces to pretend like everything’s fine, to recoup as much of your image as possible, while still doing him the courtesy to not hurt his. You have been so good, and still people look at you as if you made a mistake and not him.

Tonight would be harder to find a bathroom to tuck away into, an empty study room to make your safe haven. No cover to hide behind, so you needed to don the appropriate armor, to appear unaffected. To tell a tale to outdo his. After all, Clemensia’s right, everyone can be made to want you. You will move on, and you will make him regret it while you do. You will remind him that your heart isn’t a delicate plaything, but a fire furious enough to match his.

You play with the pearls around your neck, the matching gold and pearl earrings bouncing against your cheek as the car passes over cobblestoned streets. They are the very same Coriolanus gifted you on your first anniversary, and weighted with memories. You thought about throwing them away immediately after the break-up, but that would have said something about him winning, and you can’t stand that.

Clemensia, hawk-eyed as ever, notices your nervous fiddling and nudges your foot with hers right as the car pulls up to the entrance. “Shall we then?” Clemensia offers you her arm and you take it gratefully. You revel in the sync of your heels clicking as you ascend the hard steps to your most important battlefield yet.

Past the heavy gilded doors, the gala’s milling crowd slows down as you enter, eyes drawn to you. You hold your head high, gripping Clemensia’s arm tight. No one here will get the pleasure of seeing you flinch. They announce your names, and you smile, brilliant and beautiful. The corset underneath your rose-red dress keeps your back straight, reminiscent of old elegances that has the old garde softening for you.

You think you spot him on the far end of the room, but the shadows are long and the lights dimmed. His gaze feels a certain way though, and there’s a wicked warmth in your chest that only he has ever made you feel.

“I’m going to do reconnaissance,” Clemensia says as she gives your hand a squeeze. “Let me get the lay of the land.”

“Go, go.” You wave her off, confidently stepping into a circle that parts to let you in amongst them, laughing at the right time. If there is one dance you know better than any other, it is this: the social graces and manners expected of you in these cutthroat places, where the marble runs red with lies and blood. Your heels know where to step even when sleepwalking.

While your mask does not waver, you sure feel bare under all the scrutiny, hungry gazes roving over every bared slip of skin on your arms. After what feels like hours of compliments, cruelties and layered comments, you find a brief escape in an alcove on the second floor, rubbing at your sore ankles as you catch your breath, head spinning. Roses weigh in on all sides of you, enchanting and heady. If you had to say something nice, it’s that Coriolanus knows how to work with the best event planners the Capitol has to offer.

You rip off a handful of petals, crushing them until the fragrant oils spill forth, and press them down the front of your dress before you get up to continue mingling.

The night is long: a dance with the Featherpillow boy a year your junior who easily dances circles around most of the men here; a glass of champagne with the Fairweather twins as you chat about the latest fashion trends and they enviously compliment your pearls; Clemensia whisking you away to a polite and stiff conversation with the Ravenstills. The night goes on for some time in this manner, gliding between dances, advances, and gossip. No one can seem to keep you in one place.

And everywhere you go, you feel the constant, unrelenting pierce of eyes on you. Not just the masses… his.

You are showing him up. Everyone knows it. Coming to his event with seemingly no hard feelings, dressed like a classical painting, fielding every conversation with natural ease and charisma. Everyone wants to see you, talk to you, be seen with you. It’s a move that will have lesser men folding their hands.

Coryo isn’t.

There’s no shortage of attention in his corner, the constant requests for a word from important political seats and fellow society greats, and invitations to dance which he only takes when you do. The undertow between you is palpable. He is an inevitability, you can feel it when you draw close during dances, gazes brushing past each other.

He is throwing you off, little by little, his smile blistering bright and dangerous across the room, and he catches you looking. Just once. And once is all he needs.

You swipe a glass of posca from a passing waiter, knocking it back in one go. This wasn’t part of your plan.

It definitely isn’t a part of the plan that Coriolanus appears in front of you, taking the empty glass away from you with a cool smile.

“May I have the next dance?” he asks, voice perfectly warm and polite. Every single eye watches the two of you with rapt attention as he offers his hand out to you.

He knows you can’t turn him down now, and he is relishing in it. His eyes are lit up, a fire in them you have not seen in months. You put your hand in his, beaming up at him.

“It would be my pleasure,” you say, dragging out the last word until it drips like daggers from your lips.

The two of you assume the starting position, you with one hand in his, the other on his shoulder, and you can’t help but notice that it is all too comfortable a role to slip back into: the perfect pair, polished and primed for the show. A lone pianist begins to play, and you recognize the tune as one of your very favorites… one you played for Coriolanus more than once on the grand piano in his penthouse.

Maintaining a polite expression, you shoot him a look. “Did you request this piece?”

“It’s your favorite, is it not?” He keeps it civil. More than civil, he keeps it warm, saccharine sweet even as he continues to lead you without a single misstep while giving the audience a perfect dance.

“I thought you’d forget about me,” you say, testing the waters. “Like you do to everyone who no longer interests you.”

“You think I’d be that cruel?”

“I know you would be.”

A hum rumbles in his chest and you feel it against your body, heating your cheeks. The dance goes on, gliding and spinning, the room growing dizzying either from the drinks or the way he won’t drop eye contact with you.

This much attention from him was not the plan, definitely not the goal, and as the tempo slows for the twinkling end of the piece, you think you might fall over if not for the sheer adrenaline coursing through you… and the firmness of his grip, fingers digging into the back of your corset.

As the music falls quiet, there’s a brief moment where you could hear a pin drop, the tension in the air releasing as the audience applauds. You blush, bowing to him, simmering with the dual-edged feeling of having been made a spectacle of — and a part of you enjoyed it because it was him doing it.

He offers his arm to you and you hesitate, wanting to search out Clemensia in the crowd, but with the expectant eyes still on you, it’s hardly the time to turn him down.

Shit.

You take his arm with trepidation, chewing the inside of your cheek as he leads you to the upper level of the conservatory. As you pass by Clemensia you shoot her a pleading glance, but she cannot save you, and you both know it.

He knows the place like the back of his hand and leads you to a tucked-away alcove crowned with rose arches. The plush settee is comfortable but small, and you wind up pressed against his side when you sit down. Worse still, it’s like he delights in tormenting you as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in.

“Did you enjoy doing that?” With a gentle huff, you finally speak your mind, voice hushed. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath, of his entire body, and yours never forgot how good he could make you feel, aching for him like a traitor. “Did you want to make a fool of me?”

He does nothing to assuage the pained curiosity of your words, tutting as he reaches up to finger one of your earrings. “No need. You and I can both agree you made plenty spectacle of yourself all on your own tonight, darling.”

You hold back from chewing him out, refusing to align his glance to his. It always frustrated him back then and it still does, as he moves his hand to your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Hard time letting go?”

He knows just how to stoke the fire in you. “Of you? Never.”

“As you say.” He rubs the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. “You seemed all too comfortable letting everyone reach out to pull you around tonight, truly playing the belle of the ball, hm?”

“That’s how the Capitol landscape is and you know it. I was not trying to upstage you.”

He tuts at that. “You think that is why I’m upset?”

You furrow your brow. “What else would it be?”

“Because for all your flitting about tonight…” He lowers his voice, and you lean in instinctively. “You wouldn’t have deigned to give me the time had I not put you on the spot.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mental game board in disarray. “You’re jealous?”

You’ve learned to not cry over him anymore. Even when it hurts, when the three years down the drain remind themself like a splinter under your nail, you’ve learned better control than that. But this time, you feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes. When one slides down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb.

Damn it, damn him, damn it all. You swallow.

“After everything, you are jealous? I didn’t even come here with someone else.”

“You came here with Clemensia.”

“Yes, a friend.”

“She was my friend first.”

“Oh, don’t be a child.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his chest. He holds your hand there, and when the first feeling that runs through your heart is a sliver of hope, you know you’re done for.

“I’ve missed you.”

Check mate.

He wins again.

You try to pull away, but he resists, pressing you closer into him. For all that hurt, all the frustration, when you look into his eyes, when your gaze flits down to his lips, you still want to crush his lips with yours, to slot right into his life like you never left, and that thought gnaws at you. You hate yourself for it. And your mask is not that strong…

“You really could have thought about that earlier, Coriolanus. You had every opportunity.”

He seems content with not elaborating on why he froze you out, left you in the dark, and it frustrates you. His only response, in fact, is to act on the heat of the moment, pulling you into a kiss.

It’s greedy and hungry and he bites at your lower lip, causing you to whine. His lips are soft and taste of sugary pastries and finely aged wines and oh, it would be so easy to fall head first into how good it feels, how much you missed this, to climb on his lap right here…

You lick into his mouth, wanting all you can take before you part from him, unable to forget where you are, that there is no privacy in this place, and that you can’t risk everything for him — however badly you want to. When you pull away, you see the mess you’ve made of him, lipstick on the corners of his mouth, and it thrills to know he’s made one of you too.

“Not here,” you say. But it isn’t a no. It’s hardly a stop. It’s a challenge and you desperately want him to rise to it.

He waves over one of his attendants to assist in making you both presentable, leaving you in the seat once he is taken care of. You hold back a protest, ready to settle back into the shadows of his ambition, but then overhear him whispering about “ready the car” and “make sure they have a good time” before he turns back to you. There’s the fire that could burn the whole of the Capitol down if he wanted it. There’s the hunger that could have you willing to offer him of yourself just to sate him. It leaves you speechless. It leaves you burning.

He whisks you away out the back entrance to the waiting car and once seated in the back, partitions pulled up, you spare no time climbing on top of him, arms wrapping around his neck.

He fingers your earrings again, hand trailing down to your necklace. “Our first anniversary, hmm? Do you remember why I had the rose engraved in the gold?”

You aren’t interested in reminiscing anymore, you want the present moment, you want to burn your mouth on his. You kiss him again, rocking against him as you do, relishing in the way he tightly grabs your hips, helps you keep grinding down as he lifts up the skirt higher, skimming the top of your thigh-high stockings.

“Missed you too.” Your breath is hot and ragged against his skin.

You look over his face, bodies still slowly rocking together, and when your semi-glazed eyes meet his, you see nothing but fire, dangerous and warming, everything you have ever wanted from him. In a craze, you find yourself begging.

“Please… make me yours again.” It’s a romantic notion, and it will haunt you come morning, but now you are nothing but a bundle of nerves and want, all ripe for his picking.

“Patience,” he breathes against your neck, his lips on the pearls. “We’re almost there.”

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #corionlanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games

[lady-ashfade]

Through My Window. Pt.2

Day 17 of celebration marathon.

-♡Book!older!Percy Jackson x Fem!reader.

-£ this fic was very popular and I have been asked uncountable times to make a part two, some people will be disappointed but I hope I can please some!

-£ Part one.

-£ words: 1.7k

-£ warnings: angst, seeing your ex, crying, reader being rightfully upset, college reader & percy, reconnecting from the past, I had a hard time writing this, so poor writing.

You’d like to say you got over him.

That everything was placed in a box and forgotten and never thought of again. Tragically you couldn’t seem to get percy out of your thoughts. Late at night you’d see him fighting monsters, saw him running for his life, or the past moments you shared. But they were only dreams, and he wasn’t going to come back for you. The college life treated you well enough and even if you couldn’t get him out of your mind the new friends you made helped keep him out from time to time.

You could lied to yourself that the boys you spent time with at parties or your dorm didn’t make you feel special. But they weren’t him and you hated that. Percy was somewhere with someone like him— better for him then you and he was happier. He had it all while you stayed the same girl who longed to feel his love again, to see his smile and brush his hair.

You missed him. Everything about him was stuck in your mind like a constant playing movie on repeat. It was years you both knew each other, he was a friend before anything so your heart wanted him close again. Even though you knew it would sting to glance upon him once more.

Today you had extra time to yourself in between classes so you went off campus to get yourself something to eat. Thankfully the small shop you loved was empty and not overflowing with business. And it was a perfect day to eat outside and review your notes, so you did just that. Sitting underneath a tree at a bench and eating your lunch. It was peaceful. You liked the light breeze on your skin and rustling of the leaves in your ears made you smile.

“You’ve got something in your hair,” he chuckled and pulled out a leaf from your hair making you role you eyes. He smirked at your attitude and leans to press his lips to yours. And you couldn’t stay mad at him after that.

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

Suddenly the breeze made it easier for your spine to feel a shiver as you remembered the feeling of his hand on your cheek. It was like remembering a ghost of your past, making you cold and icy. The last words he ever said to you were him apologizing. It made your skin crawl, he was sorry? Time couldn’t heal you when all he said was “I’m sorry” like it was a simple fix for you. You weren’t enough for him, and you came to terms with that but he lied to you all that time, only to dump you before prom.

Now percy wasn’t happy with himself. He never wanted to leave you, he swore to be by your side even when odds weren’t on his favor and that’s exactly what he didn’t do. He left your side and broke your heart with something that wasn’t true. It was no secret that you were everything to him and he worshipped the ground you walked on. And that’s exactly why he had to leave you, you were his greatest weakness to his enemies. And the lie about annabeth made his head turn with regret and guilt.

But you brought it up and at the time it was a good coverup to make you hate him— which he was right. You did hate him and rightfully so. Each night he went to sleep with you in his mind, and then when he woke he was never left with your voice in his head. Percy knew you probably wouldn’t want him back but he’d never want anyone else. That doesn’t mean he would blame you for moving on, you deserved to be loved and he wanted you happy.

but that was all forgotten when he saw you now. just a perfect as ever.

“Excuse me,” His throat went dry as he approached closer to you. he should have kept walking, leaving you alone because he hurt you.

“Do you had to know anywhere around here that takes golden drachmas?” All the breath in his chest went away when you turned your head to look at him. He knew he missed you but he could cry on his knees right now upon seeing you again but reality reminded him quickly. Your eyes were shocked and wide like he was a monster of some sort only here to hurt you.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss and grab ahold of your notebook to ground yourself. Glancing around the place for any sign of anyone else, her for example. But you saw no sign of the blonde beauty anywhere.

“Honestly, I heard you moved here for college and hoped to run into you,” he spilled and walked closer with his hands sweating. “Which I now believe sounds crazy.” he gives you awkward smile which you don’t return, instead you get up from your seat and pick up your things in a rush. your books starts to fall and papers flying while you groan and try to catch everything. He wanted to help you but you held up your hand to stop him from coming closer.

“I told you,” once you had everything in your bag again you stomped your feet and glare at him, “I never want to see you again.”

Percy remembered those words like they had happened only moments ago. He also remembers the tears rolling down your eyes when you shouted at him to leave. He was haunted each day. What hurt him worse was how you stormed away from him leaving him like a sad puppy…exactly like he left you. But he wasn’t going to leave you thinking any longer that he would choose anyone over you.

“Wait,” he jogged behind you. he knew you heard him when you started to speed up to get away from him. “Please, Baby—” it’s been forever since he called you that and he knew his mistake as soon as he let them slip. You turned quickly with a fire in your eyes that could burn him down to ash with your hatred.

“You have no right to call me that!” Your voice echoes through the air as you point your finger at him. He stopped in his tracks just a few inches before you and his head hung in shame. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

“That’s what I’m here to see you, I never-”

“I don’t care for your reasons or apology— I want you to leave me alone.” And that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Not yet.

“Just give me a chance to explain why I left.” He pleads with begging eyes. You shake your head with no more control over your emotions to say no to him. Tears pool up in your eyes while trying to wave him away from you.

“You left me—even when you promised.” For the first time in a long time he got to feel you but not in the way he dreamed about, but by you hitting his chest. “You said you’d stay by my side no matter what. You said that I was enough.” Even after you continued to hit his chest you sobbed while he watched with tears of his own.

“You promised.” His arms wrapped around your trembling figure and pulled you close and you gave out in the fight and let him. You cried into his chest while he rubbed your back with no care for anything else but you.

“I never stopped loving you. I lied and I am forever sorry to be the cause of your pain but I had to, I’d rather you hate me then watch you die.” you breathe out and pull away from his chest and look at him. he could see the puzzled look at your face. “I lied about being in love with annabeth. I needed you to hate me so you wouldn’t be targeted and-”

“So you’re saying all of it— the constant feeling like I wasn’t enough…was all a lie?” he wanted to deny it but he couldn’t get anything out of his mouth.

Stepping back and throwing his arms off of you, “really? Now that,” you began to laugh and lean over with your hands wrapping around yourself. “is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. I pictured her kiss you, you telling her that you love her- when it wasn’t happening?” it was a mix of crying and laughing now at yourself, even a hint of anger.

“Hunny..” he reached out for you again but you moved out of the way. you whip you eyes of tears and your cheeks with your smile still on your face. It was all too much for you to handle, seeing him again and the him telling you the truth. So your outburst may have seemed crazy but it was natural for your body to be overwhelmed.

“That’s why you came? Go get it off your conscience,” you tilt your head.

“No, I came to tell you the truth…to see you again, make sure you’re happy.” you could tell by his eyes that he meant all the words. A frown on his face and he looked over you like you’d change in seconds again. 

“How could I have been happy without you? You’re a idiot,” you confess. again, there was not a day that has gone by without thinking of him. “Massive.” He agreed with you with his own smile creeping on his face. You missed him after everything he did.

“But if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.” His hand grabbed yours slowly incase you wanted to pull away from him but you didn’t. you wrap your fingers around his, moving closer to him.

“You have a lot of making up to do.” it was a peaceful moment between you both as you smile together.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken him back. Maybe you should have forgive him on the spot. But you knew that he was met to be in your life or he wouldn’t be here now. Slipping through your window with a wide smile into your dorm room and waiting for a hello kiss from you. And he would continue to come to your window until college was over.

“Someones going to catch you coming through my window.”

taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs

#percy jackson x you #older percy jackson #older percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson x reader #book percy jackson #book percy jackson x reader #percy jackson angst #angst

[eqt-95]

wip what is a wednesday

thanks @sssammich and @sideguitars for the double-team.

here is an excerpt from chapter 2 of to want and to have and to hold *rereads to make sure it's in the right order* (why did i pick this as the title)

- - - -

“Ok this… should… do it,” Kara huffed from the other side of the ship’s wall. 

Then there was a creak. Then the entire wall shifted. Then Lena felt a shot of pain and registered that her hand was now the filling of a metal sandwich. Then Lena did the irrationally instinctive thing and yanked. Hard. 

“Shit,” Lena hissed once freed.

Then she did the logical thing of shaking her hand to futilely flick away the ‘ouch’ raging through her palm.

Kara was there in an instant. She arrived with a burst of wind and a blast of sand. “What? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lena answered. The protective way she clutched her hand disagreed. <something something ‘object impermanence’>

“Was that-?” Kara rushed, hands hovering with the hesitation of a housefly. “Oh Roa, Lena did I-”

“No,” Lena interrupted. “I wasn’t thinking and-”

“You’re always thinking,” Kara mumbled. “I should’ve…” Her hesitation faded and two impossibly warm, impossibly strong, impossibly delicate hands traced over Lena’s hand and the harsh red and blooming purple spreading across her pale skin. 

“Kara, really it’s ok-”

“No it isn’t,” Kara replied, unable to tear her eyes away from the angry discoloration. “Here.”

Lena stared at the rag Kara picked up with worthy skepticism. ‘Skepticism’ became ‘dawning realization’ when Kara exhaled and the worn fabric glistened with icy crystals. Its normalcy looked so alien. 

Hand still clutched protectively in one hand, Kara wrapped the rag around Lena’s hand with a reverence that bordered on religious. The effect was instantaneous. Throbbing pain was muted by the coolness of quickly melting ice. 

It wasn’t the only thing melting.

Lena cleared her throat. Re-solidified.

“Y-you have freeze breath.” It was said matter-of-factly. Rhetorically. With a crack in her hushed voice.

“Oh, uh, yea,” Kara remarked with a tinge of red to her cheeks. She didn’t hear the ‘rhetorical’. 

“No, I mean, I know that,” Lena clarified. “I-I know you have freeze breath.”

“Right, right-”

“You know you have freeze breath.”

“Uh… yes?”

“You’ve had it the whole time.”

And then it clicked for Kara. Kara, superhero and possessor of extra-human strength and magical qualities like freeze breath, had gone weeks in the desert without water or air-conditioning. “Oh. Oh. I-I didn’t mean to-”

“And we forgot,” Lena observed. The trace of a smirk appeared. It was a silly thing.

“W-we-?”

“Does that happen a lot? In the field?” Lena asked, interrupting Kara’s confused stammering.

Kara’s jaw bobbed open and closed with the grace of a fish. “Kinda?”

Lena nodded. An opening. A hand still linking them.

“It’s just that…” Kara began then paused. Her gaze remained fixed on Lena’s hand. Her fingers fidgeted with the now-damp rag. Her lips let honesty tumble out. “Sometimes there are all of these things happening, a-and sometimes it’s overwhelming to like, think about who’s in danger, how many bad guys there are, what’s the context that I-I don’t really have time to pick the best thing?”

Lena leaned against the wall of the ship, pondering for a moment. “That makes sense.”

“Really?” Owlish eyes blinked up from Lena’s hand to meet hers.

“Sure,” Lena answered. She shrugged. Kara stared. “Decision paralysis. You’ve got inputs and parameters changing in real time and every choice can impact life or death. It makes sense.”

“I-uh-”

“Can I get another blast of ice? This is going to swell.”

- - - -

i would LOVE to see wip bits and bobs from everyone, but I'm gonna tag a couple I haven't seen bits and bobs from in a while: @ekingston, @lovepotionnumber5, @vox-ex, @fabulousglitch, and @inkedroplets. as always, tagged respectfully and without pressure but i'll geek if y'all come out and play.

#this is not a great excerpt choice out of context but #allora #sssammich #sideguitars #supercorp fic #wip wednesday #2whh

[aectpen]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❆ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

m.list

pairing: sunghoon x ex figure skater->idol!fem oc

synopsis: 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩, 𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐇𝐘𝐁𝐄.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬.

chapter one: prologue

with chaerin and sunghoon finishing up their routine at practice, the only sound heard is their blades gliding across the smooth ice. the two worked together like oreos and milk. their coach always said that they were a package deal. they complemented each other so well that it was almost fate that they were partners.

"sunghoon, that was the best we've ever done." chaerin handed him his water bottle. she was always extra proud and showered sunghoon with complements.

he only nodded but something didn't feel quite right to chaerin. like he was hesitating. sunghoon was usually talkative after practice and very boastful. he always said that he would become the best male figure skater to come out of south korea.

"is there something wrong?" she could always tell when he was holding back something. it was usually when he would have fresh gossip from his school.

sunghoon takes a deep breath. "this is my last day."

"yeah sure. you play too much." she chuckled and brushed it off as a joke, continuing to take off her ice skates.

"I'm sorry, chaerin." his voice sincere.

she stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. she tried to read his expression, all she could see was genuine apologetic eyes. she could feel her chest tighten.

"i really am sorry, chaerin. i don't know what else to say." he rubbed his face.

"we had plans, sunghoon! we're supposed to make it to the olympics. i don't understand." her tone a mix of anger, sadness and confusion.

"i wanted that for us too, but i got an opportunity. i could be an idol. i want to take it now before it's too late and i regret not pursuing it." he held this from her in fear of her reaction to the news.

chaerin stayed silent for a while before asking, "how long did you want to quit?"

"for a while now. i don't find enjoyment in it anymore. it's like a chore, not a hobby or passion."

each of his words were like tiny daggers, stabbing her heart one by one. she thought they were having fun together, all of those four years. her favorite part of her days was meeting sunghoon at practice and showing him her newest trick. he would always try to replicate it, and fail miserably.

she couldn't envision working with a new partner.

"sunghoon! mom said it's time to go!" his sister shouted from the entrance.

"you're really leaving, aren't you?"

he slowly rose from next to her. "i'm really sorry, chaerin. i hope you can understand. you will do great with or without me."

sunghoon walked away and never looked back. leaving chaerin alone in the crisp ice rink. her tears slid down her face like an icy waterfall.

she caressed the blue beaded bracelet around her wrist. her and sunghoon had made good luck bracelets together with their initials.

the ice rink, once a place of shared hopes and dreams, transformed into a desolate, depressing setting.

the moment sunghoon got up and walked away, chaerin fell out of love with ice skating.

#sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #jungwon #enhypen niki #sim jaeyun #heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon smut

[frekydeki]

Birds of a Feather | Pt. 2

A/n | at this point I shouldn't even be surprised with myself for taking so long to get this second part done. For some reason I struggled so hard getting from point a to point b.

Pairing | (ex)Midoriya x Reader | Bakugo x Reader

Warnings | Lots of cursing.

Summary | In which Midoriya is the love of your life, but you’re not his. In this, you navigate the stormy waters of heartbreak, and at the eye of the storm, you find Bakugo… But you know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.

Masterlist

| Part 1 |✨Part 2 ✨| Part 3: In progress

            You’re running. There’s something biting at your heels; cold, looming, crushing. Your legs ache, and each step you take feels like you're wading through rushing water. A straight hallway with ugly grey wallpaper and water staining stretches out endlessly before you. Uneven floorboards that creak with each step and groan with the swaying walls. Old wooden doors are evenly spaced along the walls. You tried a few but found them all locked. The feeling of the icy water against your legs is rising higher, almost to your waist; yet there’s no water in sight.

            God, you want to scream, but you can hardly bring in enough air to keep yourself upright. Pressure in your chest and tears clouding your eyes, you struggle to keep your footing against the swaying floorboards. There’s a pinch in your ankle, and suddenly you’re blinking at the deep grooves in the floorboards. What are you running from?

            Doesn’t matter. You need to go. You try and push yourself up, legs scrambling to right yourself. Your body goes stiff as you’re consumed by a biting coldness, and slammed against the ground.

            You can’t breathe. A single gasp for air, and you can feel your lungs filling with that same iciness. You’ve felt this before. Pulled under the waves at the beach on a family vacation; this horror, the burn… It’s the same. You’re drowning in the middle of a hallway with no water in sight.

Your fingers scratch against the floorboards, and you strain to look up, your gaze becoming fuzzy. Surrounded by light, you see a black figure… A person? Someone, running to you. Your mouth snaps shut. If you could just get the words out, maybe they’ll be able to save you…

            Save you from what?

            Your vision grows fuzzy, then dark, and your head falls with a harsh thunk on the floor.

            You grunt as your fingers run over the cool wood floor. You feel the soft touch of a fuzzy rug and crack your eyes open as the sound of a door creaking open reaches your ears. The white ceiling above you has squares of pink and orange light cast across it from the window, and your sight is blocked by a familiar face craning over you.

            “You okay?” You blink at him, ruby eyes steadily keeping your own confused gaze. “Did you hit your head?” He kneels down and waves his hand over your face, “Anyone home in there?” Swatting his hand away, you push yourself up and cradle your head as it begins throbbing.

            “What the hell are you doing here?”

            “What do you mean?” He scoffs and then offers a cup of water; it’s in your favorite mug, one of the two that were hanging next to the coffee machine. There’s only one hanging there now. You turn your eyes away and mumble no thanks. “You invited me to stay, dumbass.” Turning your eyes over the room, the suffocating memory of crying yourself to sleep – strangling your sobs with your pillow so Bakugo could sleep properly – rushes back to you. You can only manage to hum back to him in response. You play with the sleeve of your shirt before mumbling the first thing that came to your mind to direct his attention from your dulling gaze.

            “Did you sleep okay?”

            “Once you finally shut up, yeah.”

            “I thought you were already asleep!” You squeak. “You were snoring when I left.”

            “Just cause I was snoring doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wake back up to you wailing in here…” Shoving the cup of water in your hand, he moves himself to the doorway and gazes down at you. “How’re you feeling?” Your nose scrunches and your eyes narrow.

            “Who are you?” He frowns at you.

            “Don’t.” The word comes out softly as he crosses his arms.

            “What have you done with Bakugo?”

            “Y/n, don’t.” His mouth lifts a little and the corners of his lips bury in his cheek. His eyes soften and almost take on a warm glimmer. “Let’s be adults for like ten seconds; are you okay?”

            “I’m okay.” You quietly say, tapping your fingers against the glass and staring at the ripples. “You?” It’s quiet.

            “I’m hungry.”

            “How?” Your stomach rolls and you swallow thickly.

            “I didn’t get shit faced. Get dressed. Let’s go to the store, I’ll make breakfast.”

            “Why do I have to go?” You whine.

            “Cause I’m wearing fuckin’ Garfield pajama pants!” He gestures to his pants; you hadn’t noticed. You blink and then scoff.

            “You went to the bar in them last night! What’s so different now?” You quip back. He grunts and turns on his heel, shoves his hands into his pockets, and stiffly walks down the hallway mumbling profanities under his breath.

            Heaving out a sigh, you pull on a sweatshirt over your t-shirt, and straighten out your sweatpants. You couldn’t let him go alone, especially if the only thing he escaped last night with was a pair of pajama pants… Can’t he just starve like everyone else who’s going through a hard breakup? You don’t even feel like being awake, let alone going to the damn grocery.

            “I’ll go.” He finishes tying his shoes and grabs his keys before meeting your eye.

            “Thanks.”

            You leave the house with a small piece of paper scribbled with Bakugo’s sharp writing tight in your hand; the list is small… It’s easy enough.

            Hand closing on the carton of eggs, you cast your eye to the two women on your left. You examine the eggs in your hand for cracks, but also consider the sneer placed on that ladies lips, amplified by the bubblegum pink lipstick painted on them. Usually, you don’t mind what other people have to say about you, but you expect them to not make it obvious they’re gawking at you… These ladies are definitely not considering the assortment of cheeses displayed in front of them. One with curly, short brown hair and deep lines under her eyes looks you up and down while her friend scrolls on her phone and casts piercing glances at you. You meet their eyes evenly before you take notice of the man across you shooting daggers. Heat spreads through your gut. You try and iron out your expression but bite the inside of your cheek.

Do you have something on your face? You lightly run your fingers over the corners of your mouth, push your hair from your face, and pat it down. It leaves your stomach a little heavier than before, and you’re grateful that you only have one thing left on the list. Some people don’t look at you while you pick out bread, but a young couple down the aisle point and whisper. You can’t make out anything they’re saying. You start toward them, set to keep moving past them, but then you meet their eye, and the words are suddenly pouring from your mouth:

“It’s so sad to see adults acting like children.” You look to the keys clenched in her hand, adorned with a keychain that says ‘#MomLife’; it actually makes your eye twitch. “I’m nervous for your kids.” You march away to the check-out.

            You’re not sure why so many people in the store shot you looks like you were their high school best friend that stabbed them in the back, but you’re grateful that the clerk didn’t. All you have to do is pay and then you're out of here; no more weird glances, no more grannies mumbling to their son in the checkout lane about you. Your chest tightens and throat constricts. You can’t make out all of the words, but as you collect your bags, you hear her whisper:

            “They’re dispicable.”

            You flinch at the words and hurry from the store. What does she mean? Why would she say that? How the hell does she even know you? You grab for the car door and smack your lips when you find it locked. Bakugo spares you a glance from his phone and unlocks the door.

            “Got it all?” He asks as he looks back to his phone, finishing a very long text with his lips pulled down into a thin frown. You nod, run your hands over your sweats, and turn your gaze back to the grocery store doors, flooded with people going in and out. You think of every eye that was on you, and wonder what would happen if you walked back in. Would they all stare at you like that again? Maybe you have something on your clothes? You pat yourself down, but – aside from a badly coordinated outfit – nothing is amiss. You flip down the mirror to double check your face for awkwardly placed drool.

            Just paled skin and your sad eyes staring back. You freeze up as your stomach rolls. Sucking in a deep breath, you push the mirror back up and turn your eyes away again. Bakugo watches you with pinched brows.

            “What’s wrong with you?”

            “Nothing.” You answer, running your hands over your pants again.

            “I don’t like liars.”

            “Who does?” You scoff back, keeping your eyes on anything except his eyes that you feel drilling into you from the driver’s seat. Of all the things you find wonderful about Bakugo, his intense gaze has never been it. It’s like he has laser vision, peering right into you to read your mind like a children’s book.

            “So don’t lie to me.”

            “’Kay.” He doesn’t move to start driving. “What does it matter?” You snap, sending him a glare, but it quickly fizzles out as you meet his eye. Your eyes fall to your hands. “Can we go home?”

            “Fine.” Bakugo grumbles at you under his breath for a minute. Your eyes flutter shut, and you rub your eyes.

            “Did he message you?” He asks through the silence that's fallen between the two of you.

            “No.”

            “Look, can ya just tell me?”

            “When you go out in public, do people look at you like you’re less than shit?”

            “What? No! Did-“ Bakugo glances between you and the road, “Did someone do something to you in the store?”

            “Nothing happened-“

            “You can’t say nothing happened! Look at you! What the fuck happened?”

            “Nothing, Bakugo. Everyone in there… They were just giving me weird looks.” You shake your head. “Maybe I was being crazy.” But that doesn’t explain the whispering. “When I was in line… The women behind me was whispering with her son and said ‘They’re dispicable’. And she was looking directly at me… Could I have heard them wrong? I don’t even know who they are!” He’s silent for a beat.

            “What a bitch!” He blurts randomly. “Who just fuckin says that about someone they don’t know?” His hands grip the steering wheel tightly and he speeds up.

            “Is my outfit that bad?” You wonder with a dry chuckle.

            “No worse than mine.” His gray pajama pants with Garfield eating lasagna and a plain red t-shirt puts a small smile on your lips.

            “I can understand why she said it if that’s the case.”

            The rest of your drive passes in silence. He stops his car near the building instead of parking; you send him a confused look.

            “Whatcha doin?”

            “Dropping you off. I have to make a phone call really quick. Head on in and clean yourself up. I’ll be up in a few.” You watch him and nod. Taking up the few bags of groceries, you wave him off. When did he get so nice? Maybe he’s always been this nice, just not to you. He must've bagged it all up and gave it to Uraraka this whole time.

            What a waste. It puts a bad taste in your mouth, so you swallow it and put the groceries away. You’re a little grateful for the silence in your apartment – even if it’s short lived – and decide a hot shower should put you right. You grab your comfiest clothes and head to the bathroom. You avoid looking at the mirror, light a candle, and flick the light off; the stupid vent turns on with the light, and you don’t feel like hearing all of that right now. You want a nice, hot, quiet shower.

            You stand in the shower, still as a statue, watching your skin become irritated under the water. Emotions pile up on you like dirt and sweat, and you’ve not given much thought to how disgusting you’ve felt. The feeling of the water stream pelting on the back of your head, almost blocking every sound from the outside world, lulls you into a mindless state. You forget yourself as you stand swaying in the shower with shut eyes. Before you know it, it’s been ten minutes and the front door of your apartment is slamming shut. You almost felt the floor shake from how hard the door was slammed, and it makes your stomach tumble right back down into hell.

            You scrub up quickly, dry and dress, then head out to the kitchen to see what the deal is. Bakugo is fast at work. His broad shoulders are visibly tense, and the longer you watch him, the more you notice how stiffly he’s moving, how hard he’s slamming the knife down onto the cutting board, and his uneven, heavy breaths.

            “You okay?” You’re tired of hearing that sentence; it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but you’ve heard it enough. Bakugo’s hands slow before he continues working away, switching between checking the food cooking on the stove and dicing vegetables. At his silence, you shrug and brew some coffee. “I feel better after the shower. You should take one, I’ll clean up after we eat.” He grunts back at you. “I have some big shirts I can let you borrow… I might be able to find a pair of sweats that’ll fit you somewhere…” You fill the silence with idle chatter, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and offer to pour him some.

            “More of a juice guy.”

            “Interesting.” You say. You snatch up the orange juice and pour him a glass.

            “What is that supposed to mean?” Your chest lightens as he seems to come back into himself a little bit, and you shrug.

            “Dunno… Figured you for a bitter drink man. You know, macho man, no one can see you eating anything sweet.” You set the table as he lays out the collection of small dishes he’s put together. “It’s amazing that you managed to put this together from the random assortment of shit in my fridge.”

            “Yeah, just don’t go telling everybody I made ya breakfast.”

            “Why not?”

            “Doesn’t fit the image.”

            “And drinking juice does?” He sits in the seat across from you with a hard look but a lift in his lip. “Anyways, what’s image got to do with being able to cook? Is it a bad thing that you can put together a great meal? Does it make you less of a man? Less of a hero?”

            “No.” He curtly responds. “I just don’t want the entire world to know me.”

            “Well, that doesn’t make much sense considering your life’s dream.”

            “Being number one hero is… Not being a celebrity with tabloid articles being written about every little fucking thing that I do. The littlest shit is fucking gold to those leeches. An accountant goes out to get drinks with his buddies, he just went out to get drinks with his buddies… But me? I go out to get drinks with my buddies and then suddenly I’m a fucking drunk, an alcoholic who went out on a rager and pissed on some grannies lawn ornaments.” You watch him somehow eat his food angrily. Blinking at him, you sit your utensils down, and try to meet his eye.

            “Bakugo… What is it?” He stops when you finally catch his eye. “Something is bothering you. You can tell me.” Bakugo tears his ruby eyes away, blinking quickly.

            “When you said that people were giving you weird looks in the store… Saying shit like that… I thought, there’s no reason anyone would know who you are.” He pauses, then adds, “No offense.”

            “None taken. It’s true.” People – as far as they know – know you’re in a relationship with Midoriya, but you’ve never been one to attend the galas or walking the carpet; the events scared you. Paparazzi never paid you much mind.

            “Midoriya tried to keep you from that. So… I had my secretary do a little digging…” Your heart flips in your chest like a fish out of water; you know where this is going, but you’re hoping to whatever god is listening that you’re wrong. Maybe, by some dumb luck, that you’re completely wrong. Bakugo unlocks his phone and drops it on the table, spinning it toward you. Pointing at the screen, he continues, “Published last night. The prick must've been up all night drooling over his laptop.”       

            “Dynamite enjoys late night fling?” The words almost taste like poison in your mouth. It’s a weak article of four, single sentence paragraphs accompanied by one dark and grainy photo. But anyone who knew Bakugo could recognize the spikey blond hair. Anyone who knows you would see your drunken face or recognize your apartment building. Your breath shutters from you, and you swallow. “Bakugo.” His name is the only thing you can squeeze out. This is bad. This is really bad.

            Not just for you, but for him. Especially for him. He has an image to maintain, but if the world thinks he’s the type of man to have a fling with his best friend’s partner… He could lose everything. His lips somehow pull themselves farther down, and his brows fall slack.

            “Bakugo, this… This…” He nods slowly.

            “I know.”

            “This is bad.” Now everyone is going to think you cheated. That it’s your fault things are like this. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Tears bubble into your eyes - what can you say, you're a crybaby for the week - while you try and force out a coherent sentence. The more you try, though, the more muddied your words become. Your heart clenches in your chest, “That’s not true. What do we do?” You heave in a breath, trying to keep your eyes on Bakugo’s worrying expression, but you look back to the photo, “It’s published on Super Gossip.”

            Bakugo nods, “Yeah, we’re trying to find who took the picture.”

            “It’s midafternoon, Bakugo.” Your lip quivers, “Half the fucking world has seen this already.” You watch his eyes shut as he lets out a heavy breath, and he worries his lip with his teeth.

            “I know.” He sighs and roughly rubs his hand over his face, “Best we can do is damage control.” Super Gossip is only the most useless, brain-dead, flaming piece of crap hero gossip magazine in the world. A lot of people read this magazine like the damn bible. You know for a fact that Midoriya has seen this article. Which means he knows that Bakugo went home with you last night. What does he think you did last night? Is he thinking what everyone else is? That you had a late-night fling with him just to get back at Midoriya? Where does Uraraka stand on this?

            Your insides are on fire, and somehow, you feel small. You want to cover up all your windows and check outside for some creep camped among the bushes; you didn’t even see anyone in the parking lot when you both got home last night… Violated. You feel violated. Your arms wrap around your quaking body, and you glance to the open kitchen window.

            How long were they camped outside of your apartment? Waiting and watching your window for the slightest movement? You heave in a breath and snap your gaze over to Bakugo; you're grateful that at least you had Dynamite sleeping on your couch, it gives you some sort of comfort.

            “What do we do?” You repeat. “My reputation doesn’t matter much, I’m just a florist and no one really knows my name unless they dig. But you-“

            “They’ll dig.” Bakugo is watching you carefully. A look in his eye, just below his furrowed brow, that tells you he doesn’t want to scare you, but he can’t lie. “They will dig up things you don’t want them to know, and before you know it, you’ll be on the front pages until we make it clear what’s going on.”

            “Oh, yeah. Easy enough.” You push your food away; your appetite slunk out the door as soon as you read the article. “I’ll just let them know that the number one hero who I’ve spent four years worshipping the ground he walked on left me for the girl he had a crush on in high school – who happened to be your fiancé – and in my drunk rantings I asked you to stay with me. It’s all just one big misunderstanding… Yeah, let’s just throw this pile of steaming shit on Uraraka and Midoriya’s reputation.” You spit out in a panic. If you just went out there and told the media the truth the fingers would start pointing at Midoriya. That’s if they even believe you – a nobody who grows flowers for a living – over their golden boy Deku.

            “It’s the truth.” Bakugo reasons. “I’m not gonna just let these little ants sit there and spread lies like this.”

            “They’ll eat Midoriya alive.”

“What do you care?” He snaps at you, stands from his place at the table, and snatches his phone up. “That asshole is the reason we’re all here.”             “Uraraka had a hand in it too, Bakugo. They’ll dig into her too.” Your voice is low as you stand from your seat and put yourself in the doorway of the kitchen; he’s started to clean up the barely touched breakfast.

            “And they’ll get what they deserve. They did this. I’m not just gonna sit around and let my career suffer for them.” You open your mouth to reason, “If they cared about their reputation, they wouldn’t have gone behind our backs like that.”

            “So, what? You’re gonna call the author up and ask him to coffee?” Bakugo stares at you blankly before nodding.

            “Yeah. I am.” You stand in silence, watching Bakugo until you near him and start to help pack the leftovers away.

            “Super Gossip will take everything you say and twist it into something you never said. Maybe you should talk to your manager first?” He shakes his head while putting the last of the food in the fridge. He takes up his phone.

            “No. I’m telling this asshole he’s an idiot and he’s pointing his finger at the wrong people.” His gaze is sharp as he stares at you – you know that anger is not for you, but it makes your heart flip to see it in his eyes – before he begins dialing a phone number.

            “Okay, okay… Look, maybe we need to call Midoriya and Uraraka before we do this?” You reason, pulling his phone from his ear.

            “You’re asking me to ask him for permission?” Under his suffocating crimson gaze, you feel your shoulders sag, just a little bit, but you keep your eyes locked on his. “To tell the truth?”

            “Not permission, Bakugo. Just because Midoriya acted like a piece of shit, doesn’t mean we should too.”

            “How is this,” He sends a glance to his ringing phone, “shitty?” His eyes narrow at you.

“If we’re going to the press, we need to consider what we say and do. We don’t need to ruin their reputation like this.”

“Ruining their reputation is shitty? Y/n, you’re kidding me!” He rounds the table to near you, bending slightly to match your height, “You have to be kidding me! They cheated. They fucking cheated on us and now we have a gossip article written about us?” His raised voice falls, “You think we’re the shitty ones?” You tap the screen to end the call.

“We’re not shitty. But what will pointing our fingers back do?” He shakes his head and continues.

“This is not shitty.” He waves the phone between the two of you. “You know what is shitty, Y/n? Sleeping with your best friends fiancé.” His voice begins raising, “Showing up to my house in the middle of the night with a few boxes and crying ‘Oh, Y/n left me. Let me stay best friend,’ is shitty. Smiling in my face, eating at my table, sleeping in one of my beds, and then fucking my fiancé while I’m trying to sleep?” His eyes have become irritated with tears, and they bunch up on his bottom lid. You’ve drawn back, gawking at him with your mouth opening and closing. "That's shitty, Y/n. Not this. Not me."

“Is that how you found out, Bakugo?” You whisper. His chest is rising and falling with heavy, frantic breaths, and you can see his hands shaking as he tries to keep control of himself.

“I wanted a glass of water.” His voice was so quiet compared to what it just was. A bitter smile pushes over his lips as he turns away from you and walks into the dark living room. “It’s all just a fucking joke.” Bakugo throws his phone onto the coffee table and his hands find purchase in his sandy blond locks. “It’s just a sick joke, Y/n.” You swallow, your lips quivering and stomach twisting. You saw Bakugo like this last night, and you don’t find it any easier to see now. With a deep breath, you sit on the opposite side of the couch.

You’d like to comfort Bakugo, but you're reeling in a storm of new emotions and thoughts you didn’t have last night. Finding out how Bakugo discovered all of this out; he probably didn’t even see it coming. Your heart is caving in for him. Also learning that even though Midoriya swore he was telling you the truth; he was still lying to your face. You’re considering every time that he pulled away from your touch, seemed to be so uncomfortable with even the slightest display of affection. It feels like your chest may burst if you don’t ask Bakugo the question bouncing around your head; how long had their relationship been physical?

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can manage. You’ve not got much in your cup. Hell, your cup is dry as a desert right now.

“So let me make the call.” He pleads, head rolling to look at you. “Look,” Bakugo breaks the silence again, leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees, “It’s not like I am happy to throw them both under the wheel like this… But I won’t lose my job for this.” His eyes are set, and his lips in a thin line. When this look crosses Bakugo’s eye, you know better than to try and change his mind. You sigh.

            “Even if you do call them, why would they believe you?” He draws back. “Anyone accused of being a cheat would have a story lined up just like this. You do this and it’ll just look like you’re pointing a finger away from you.” He’s quiet, for once. You’re a little surprised. “If we call up Midoriya and Uraraka, explain the situation, and ask them to set things straight, we might be able to settle this issue without any problems.”

            “You think they’re gonna want to admit what they did to the world?” You shrug.

            “I don’t know.” Bakugo rolls his head and rubs the back of his neck. You can tell he’s not too happy with the situation, but you can’t think of a better solution. “But on the off chance that Midoriya will do it, I think we should at least try.”

“Alright, but you call him. And if he refuses the first thing I’m going to do after I kick his ass is call this magazine up and air all of his dirty underwear.” He levels you with a stern look, “All of it.”

“At that point, Bakugo, I wouldn’t stop you.” A ghost of a smile pushes onto your lips. “I’ll get my phone.” It’s great that he is listening to you right now and all… But you never thought that you’d be the one calling those two; it just didn’t cross your mind. It makes your legs heavy as lead as you trudge back to your room. It’s the last thing you want to do. Staring at your phone on your bed like you’re superman and it’s kryptonite, you start to wonder if it really would be so bad to just let Bakugo make that call. Midoriya is the piece of shit that, after taking up five years of your life, fucked the woman that he said was just his friend and lied to you about it twice.  

            You take up your phone and head out to the living room anyways. Your skin has paled, and you give Bakugo a sideways glance; he’s onto you like white on rice.

            “If you don’t want to make that call I can just-“ You raise your hand to him and click your tongue.

            “Ah, ah!” You level him with a strong, yet watery-eyed look, and say, “A good friend wouldn’t tempt an alcoholic with a bottle; don’t give me an out.” He surrenders his hands.

            “Suit yourself. Personally, I’d let those two rot.”

            “I’m not doing this because I care about what happens to them,” That’s a lie and you both know it; Bakugo gives you a flat expression, “It’s because I’m a reasonable adult who wants to handle this so we can all make it out unscathed.” Your voice and fingers are trembling as you type in his phone number. Your throat tightens up when his contact pulls up… You haven’t changed his contact name yet, so it still has that stupid heart and the nickname you gave him long ago; and that stupid picture of him too. It has your lungs burning and tightening for more air.

Are you ready to hear his voice? Your body feels like it’s being torn apart; one end being pulled by excitement, longing to see him and hear him again, and the other being pulled to hell with rage, betrayal, and disgust. What will you even say? What if you stumble over your words? You know you will as soon as you hear him say hello; everything you have scripted out will fly from your head just like it did last night. Your heart is racing, and it feels like there’s syrup running through your veins instead of blood. It hurts. And it won’t stop until you just call him.

            You clench your jaw; you just have to call him.

            “Y/n? You okay?” Bakugo’s voice butts in like he’s calling you from the end of a tunnel. Your eyes are wide and unblinking on the phone screen as you nod and hum back to him. No, you’re not okay… Why are you saying you’re okay? You feel like your about to throw up your heart and the world might break in half.

Midoriya can’t know that though, so you take a few deep breaths and repeat over and over, “I’m okay.” You say it until your voice doesn’t crack, doesn’t waver, and isn’t thick with tears. You dial his number and bring the phone to your ear. Fingers tap your knees as you wait, and you can feel Bakugo’s eyes burning holes into the side of your head. Maybe he won’t answer – the thought makes you feel a little giddy – and you’ll be able to say you tried calling him when he's the one with an article written about him.

“Y/n?” You almost black out when you hear his voice come through the phone. So soft, shaking, like he thinks he could kill you with just one word. You’re sure he could do just that, and it scares you a little. “Hello? Y/n?”

“Yeah... Midoriya…” You’re quiet, and you look down as you begin to play with the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “Listen… You’ve…” You let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve seen the article?” The line is quiet, and you're left standing on pins and needles waiting for him to respond.

            “We saw it.” You nod; you knew that… God, what must he think of you? Why are you even worried about that? He cheated on you for fucks sake, you shouldn’t care what he thinks of you! Your hands are quaking all the same. “Is it true? That he went home with you?”             “Yeah, he crashed here tonight.” You clear your throat.

            “And did you-“ He stops short, and sighs. You wait for him to finish his sentence, and you know exactly what he’s trying to ask. You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes.

            “Did I what, Midoriya?” Your words are sharp and aggressive. He thinks you’d do that? After five years with you, Midoriya thinks that you’re that shallow…

            “Did you, you know…” It’s like he doesn’t want to say it, so you say it for him with a raised voice.

            “For fucks sake Midoriya grow up and just say what you’re thinking.” You snap. You didn’t know you had it in you to be so harsh to Midoriya, but your sharp tone continues on as you do, “Did I sleep with him? Is that what you want to know, Midoriya? Did I fuck Bakugo to get back at you?”

            “Jesus Y/n I didn’t mean it like that!” His words are wet with emotions.

            “Why would you even need to know? Hmm? What would it have to do with you?”

            “It has to do with me because you’re my ex and he’s my best friend-“

            “Let me be clear, Midoriya, you have no right to ever ask me that again.” Your words are stone cold. You can hear his heavy sigh over the phone.

            “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter.” You cast a glance to Bakugo, and he’s simply staring at you with wide eyes, watching you like some tv show that has him on the edge of his seat. “What did you need, then?”

            “The article… What are you and Uraraka going to do about it?”

            “I… I don’t know.”

            “You need to come forward Midoriya. Both you and Uraraka need to come clean with the press. It’s not right that Bakugo gets slandered like this.”

            “I know. I just don’t know what to say so that it doesn’t reflect badly on us.” His voice is high pitched.

            “You should’ve thought of that before you started fucking her.” Your words are dripping venom.

            “We never had sex, Y/n.”

            “Give it up. Bakugo told me everything.” He falls silent again.

            “It would be best if we can meet somewhere so we can talk this out.”

            “Why should Bakugo and I have to do that? This is your problem, so fix it.”

            “Y/n, please! The publicity will be bad for Uraraka-“

            “What about Bakugo? The world thinks that he’s going behind your back with me. They’re making him the bad guy. He doesn’t deserve this. Uraraka should’ve also thought of the repercussion before snaking into your pants.”

            “Come on.” Bakugo hisses. You send him a sharp look.

            “Can we all just meet so we can figure out the best way to handle this?” You burry your lips into your cheeks and look to Bakugo.   

            “He wants to meet… To talk about it.”

            “Why the fuck should we have to do that?” You shrug at the blonde.

            “Not sure. Guess he doesn’t want to admit he cheated.”

            “Y/n…” Midoriya whines through the phone; he must be crying again.

            “We’ll meet you for dinner tonight.” You promptly hang up the phone and let out a heavy breath.

            “What the hell do you mean we will meet them for dinner?” Bakugo throws his hands out, “I’m not going!”

            “Okay, whatever. Hide in the bathroom and cry about it, I have princess bandaids in the medicine cabinet if your ouchies get a little too painful.” You snap at him.

            “It’s got nothing to do with that. I just don’t want to see either of their fucking faces right now.”

            “And I do?” You snap back. “I’m just trying to get this over with.”

            “Alright. Whatever.” Bakugo stands and collects his car keys. You almost ask him where he’s going but realize you don’t really need to know. It’s not like you’re dating or anything. “I’m gonna go get some clothes. I’ll be back in an hour.”

            “’kay.” With the slamming of your front door, you lay down on the couch and close your eyes.

            You wonder, as you drift off to sleep, if maybe you’ll die while you sleep. Then, you wouldn't have to suffer sitting across the table from them.

Previous | Next: In progress...

Taglist: @eijiandkatspebble, @rykerluvsyou, @sagejin, @rinriii

#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #midoriya x reader angst #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bakugo x reader angst #mha imagine #bnha imagine #mha x reader #izuku x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugo x gn reader #midoriya x gn reader #katsuki x gn reader #izuku x gn reader #katsuku bakugo x gn reader #izuku midoriya x gn reader #tags suck i'm over this

[inneedofsupervision]

The Big Bad Wolf And The Itsy Bitsy Spider

As you can read above, I've got a prompt. I took the liberation to alter it since I'm not comfortable writing "reader insert" fics, so here you go with some Bucky, Steve and Peter being dorks and bonding over snow I guess?

Summary: It takes some level of boldness to attempt a snowball assassination of Captain America and the former Winter Solider, but someone has to be the one to throw the first snowball and step onto the thin line that divides braveness from recklessness.

(Or, how Peter thought it would be fun to annoy two super soldiers)

Read on Ao3

"On your left!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

Bucky grimaces at Steve's voice penetrating his ear, breaking the peaceful silence. He blinks a straying snowflake out of his eye before glaring at the back of Steve's head. When did the punk catch up to him? He doesn't try to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at his friend speeding up to jog a few meters ahead, shoulders shaking in poorly hidden laughter. Bucky should have shoved Steve out of the cold and locked the door like Sam suggested when the other asked if he wanted to join him on the running track. The snow-covered running track, he might add. Bucky effortlessly catches up to Steve and shoves him, snickering as it causes the other to stumble, clearly unprepared for getting hit in the side by solid vibranium. Steve huffs, quickly collecting himself before starting to level up from his jog to straight-up running, passing Bucky but not without pushing him in retaliation.

Yes, they are very mature for their age.

"I liked you better before the serum. You've become a show-off, Steve!" shouts Bucky after him before he starts falling into a faster pace. 

"Someone's gotta keep you in check, Buck," answers Steve, and Bucky frowns at the smug grin the blond's carrying. It is just like back then, Steve acting like a little prick. Not that he wasn't happy he could actually go for a run with his friend without the anxiety of an upcoming asthma attack sitting in the back of his mind. Steve just got a little too overconfident for Bucky's taste. 

"Like the little punk he is," mumbles the man as he watches Steve running, probably sporting a grin like usual when he gets to pass Bucky. He played with the thought of running up and shoving the man into the piles of snow lying next to the running track. He decides against it. Being friends with the man for years, Bucky figures it would end up in petty revenge plotting, and he didn't want to spend much more time in the snow than he needed to.

"You're not sleeping, are you, Bucky?" teases Steve, still running in front of him. They are reaching the end of the track when Bucky feels the overwhelming need to throw a snowball at his friend's head. Bucky bends down mid-run and collects a handful of white fluff from the ground, skillfully forming a dense ball. He was acting childish, but damn it, his toes felt like they froze off. Steve deserves at least that for dragging him outside at six in the morning at 24,8 Fahrenheit. Just because he was frozen once doesn't mean he enjoys staying out in the middle of winter in the daytime when the sun decides to grace the horizon. The man straightens up, hand drawn back and ready to smack his little work of art against Steve's back of the head when someone beats him to it. 

The ex-assassin's eyebrows shot upwards as he only caught the movement from the corner of his eyes. Before he could call for Steve to watch out, the snow projectile already hit its goal, the force great enough to let the ball crumple into pieces. Bucky grimaces in sympathy as a fair share of snow runs down the blond's neck and into his sweater, probably completing its mission to soak the backside of his shirt with icy water and causing it to stick against his skin in the most annoying way possible. 

A thick silence settles onto the running track as Steve's hand slowly reaches upward to get the snow out of his hair and off his skin. Blue eyes cold as ice pin Bucky in place. Bucky finds himself backing away slightly.

"So that's how you like to play, sore loser," says Steve, but the glint in his eyes betrays the soft tone of his voice. Bucky let out a short cough. Not because he was trying to buy some time and avoid answering Steve. 

It's not like he was intimidated by that punk or anything. 

Bucky inconspicuously glances towards the compound, measuring the distance between himself and the entrance. He drags his eyes back to the blond.

"Steve, I swear that wasn't me."

Steve gives him a pointed look.

"And what's that?" the other asks, nodding towards him. Bucky looks down and draws his eyebrows together as he catches sight of his hand still holding onto the snowball. 

Well, that certainly looks misleading.

"I know how this could come off as, but-"

"Good, we are on the same page then, Buck." interrupts Steve.

Bucky swallows as the blond starts pulling his sleeves up and going as far as to crack his knuckles. Oh, that dreaded smile. That smile tells you Steve Rogers wouldn't let go of this. Why did he have to befriend this punk again? If anyone asks, Bucky denies having taken a step back. He tries again to reason with his friend, squinting his eyes as Steve bends down to grab a fistful of snow.

"Steve, I didn't throw that thing."

"And I'm not about to push you face-first into the snow."

Bucky let out a frustrated groan. Steve was already closing the gap between them, and he wasn't close to taking a listen to his reasoning. It leaves Bucky questioning, where did that snowball even come from?  

Bucky was too old to wrestle in the snow. Literally. Why did this kind of thing have to happen to him? The man holds his hands up in defense, ready to go and push the other off if he needs to, when another snowball flies at the pair of super-soldiers.

This time, it hits Bucky.

Right in the face.

The explosion of ice transforms into cold wetness trickling down his jaw, chin, and neck before sickering into the fabric of his training shirt as the snow melts instantly on his slightly above-human-average heated skin. 

Without a word, he slowly reaches upwards and wipes the snow that has begun to melt out of his eyes. His face turns into a deep scowl as Steve's hearty laughter carries over to him.

"Stop laughing. I swear, I shove this in your face, Steve!"

Bucky narrows his eyes at the blond, still holding onto the snowball and contemplating throwing it in the blond's face but deciding against it. Before that, he has to figure out who would dare to throw a snowball at him. Bucky had to give the silent shooter credit. It took him a few moments to spot him. If it weren't for the slight color difference of the light gray accent on the guy's shoes, he wouldn't have spotted him in his thoroughly white outfit, blending in quite well into a blanket of snow. Successfully creeping up and keeping out of sight from not one but two trained super-soldiers was not an easy feat. Steve is busy chuckling when Bucky slowly puts a finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet. Steve raises an eyebrow, and Bucky slowly turns his head, jerking it towards their silent visitor. His friend catches on quickly, and Bucky can tell by the minimal widening of Steve's eyes that the latter has spotted the hidden shooter. The two soldiers held a wordless exchange of glances and came to a silent agreement before Steve let the snow fall from his hands.

"Let's go back inside. It's too cold if we're only standing around."

"Sure. Wouldn't want you to turn into Stevie the Snowman."

Steve rolls his eyes before walking up to Bucky, sending him a silent nod. 

They start walking, pretending to end their little workout, and leave the running track. Steve's eyes hang on the lump of "snow" lying next to the track as they approach from the side. When the two reached the same high as the uninvited visitor, Bucky's left foot took a side step, shifting as he twisted his hip, repositioning his body weight. In a split second, his metal arm shoots forward, throwing the snowball with all his might at the person lying in the snow. The two men watch with more fascination than surprise how the well-camouflaged figure rolls to the side with a shriek, snow-projectile hitting and leaving a rather impressive hole in the snow pile where the person's head had been a moment before. The previously silent attacker is quick on his feet. His move to the side brought a small distance between him and the soldiers before coming to a halt in an uncannily familiar crouching pose. The person who had successfully kept their identity hidden until now slowly raises their head. Steve's lips twitch upwards on instinct while Bucky narrows his eyes at the sight of brown curls hanging over equally brown eyes that sparkle in a mix of unmistakable mischief and amusement. 

"Hey, Steve. Hi Bucky."

Peter has the nerve to give a small cheeky wave in their direction, still crouching and looking not an ounce apologetic. The two adults watch, with slight confusion, how the teen's positive expression changes into a frown, leaving the two adults confused about what could have caused the sudden change in Peter's mood. Bucky watches him slowly straighten from his position on the ground. He wants to roll his eyes as he feels Steve twitching next to him, the worry-wart. He can sense Steve's need to ask the kid what was wrong. Peter surprises them by drawing closer to them, towards Bucky, to be more specific, a frown still present on his young face. Before Bucky can react, Peter stands on his tip-toes and reaches his hand out to carefully peel a crumble of snow out of a stray set of Bucky's dark hair. Brown eyes narrow at the sight of the snow in his hands before they settle on Bucky. The teen tilts his head to the side, almost as if he were confused if it weren't for the minuscule twitch of his lips, giving his poorly hidden amusement away.

"Sorry, you've got some snow there. Steve got you good, huh?"

Bucky's fists clenched at the sound of suppressed laughter from the blond to his right. He elbows Steve in the side before he glances back, only to meet the face of a mischievously grinning Peter Parker. He swears that kid is full of shit. But Bucky will be the last to laugh today after he shoves that kid in the nearest snow pile. He feels a grin tugging on his lips at the panic taking over the teen's features as he strides forward, right into Peter's personal space, ready to grab him.

 

His plan doesn't work as the teen, in one swift movement, manages to dive under the incoming metal arm that took a swing at him. With ease, the vigilante emerges behind the older man, a winning grin painting his features. But the euphoria of escaping a pissed-off Bucky Barnes lasts only a moment. Bucky grins as the teen lets out a shout of surprise at the pair of very fleshy and muscled arms, almost tackling him to the ground. 

The ex-assassin turns around, a taunt for the Spider sitting on his lips, but the words couldn't leave his mouth quick enough before the kid began moving again. Steve didn't know what was coming for him, as from one moment to the next, the Spider-Teen vanished from his vision by jumping up. Peter skillfully escapes the bear hug about to send him to the ground by leaping and pulling his feet up to his chest mid-jump, feet hovering over Steve's head for a moment. Steve grunted in surprise as a foot set down on his shoulder, and he could only glance up, catching a smug grin that the teen had to have learned from none other than Stark himself. Bucky could only watch how his best friend gets abused as the kid's personified springboard, Peter setting a foot down on Steve's shoulder and pushing himself forward to perform a neat somersault over the blond's head. The sheer force of the jump is enough to send Steve tumbling. While Steve takes a dive face-first into the snow, the teen lands with practiced ease on the balls of his feet, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

That little shit. 

Peter's smug expression switches into shock-widened eyes and a surprised squeak getting pushed out of the teen as a metal arm slings around the back of his knees before a shoulder crashes into him. Gloved hands flail around before finding hold of the thick textile of Bucky's jacket as Peter tries to push himself off where he got thrown over the man's shoulder. A laugh escapes the teen, the latter involuntarily rendered in watching the world from upside down. Bucky unconsciously grins at the sound before he lets go of Peter's legs. He grabs the teen's jacket with both hands, ready to haul him into the snow. His hands are firmly on the teen's waist, pulling with strength, but, for some unexplainable reason, Bucky couldn't lift the boy. The body on his shoulder wouldn't move an inch, only shifting slightly along with the movement of his jacket. A short moment passes before Bucky tilts his head to get a look at Peter's face, eyes squinting with accusation. 

"Are you sticking to me?"

The disgust in Bucky's voice sends Peter into a laughing fit, not having expected the sheer horror in the man's voice. He couldn't even form a coherent sentence from how much he was cackling while hanging over Bucky's shoulder, the latter still glaring at him. It wasn't easy to get a genuine reaction out of Bucky, the ex-assassin carrying a neutral expression most of the time if he wasn't scowling at someone or showing a smirk. The surprised tone of the super-soldier's voice, mixed with a spark of horror and disgust, had caught Peter off guard.

Bucky and Sam always reacted rather strongly at the display of Peter's most spider-like trait. Solely for that reason, he used his ability more than once just out of spite to annoy them. Their reactions are hilarious, and although they tell him to keep the "freakiness down a notch" while putting a hand over their chest in Sam's case and accusing him of trying to give them a heart attack, Peter finds himself not minding the teasing. As the youngest of the group, he often has to live with the jokes thrown his way. If sticking to the ceiling at three a.m. is a way to hand back some of their medicine, Peter gladly let go of the chance to get some sleep. The teen made it his challenge to get the two men used to his abilities, and if that meant he had to freak them out until they grew used to him sticking to stuff, then that's what he calls a win-win on his side. 

"You, Peter Parker, aren't as innocent as you pretend to be." 

That's what Mr. Stark had told him with an amused tug of his lips as he had to call someone to repair the hole in the living room, a keepsake from Peter's last little prank on Bucky. 

Peter is still hanging over Bucky's shoulder, clinging to him with his hands efficiently sticking against the man's clothes. The latter can feel the teen shaking from laughter and shakes his head at the teen's antics with a little grin. "I'll get you off. Just wait, Parker," threatens the man playfully as he gives the body on his shoulder another experimental tuck. As expected, Peter wouldn't budge an inch, shaking his head at Bucky's words. Bucky rolls his eyes, having caught a glance at the large grin plastered over the teen's face. The kid was enjoying this way too much.

"Steve, get your frosty butt up. I need a little help here."

As soon as the words leave his lips, Bucky can feel the body on his shoulder stiffen. The man quickly fastens his grip on the teen. And he did so not too late because just a moment later, the struggle began. Bucky laughs. "What? Now, you don't want to stick close?"

He smirks as he hears Peter groan at his bad joke, the movement halting for a moment before it picks up again. Peter is pushing his hands against Bucky's back, trying to lift himself off. His movement grew more erratic, and Bucky raised an eyebrow. One glance at Steve gives Bucky an idea of why Peter's effort to escape is increasing tenfold. Steve frowns at the pair as he runs a hand through his short golden hair, wiping ice water and snow off. The blond had managed to climb out of the snow but gave off a comedic picture. Captain America covered from top to bottom in white, an unamused expression on his face. 

"Do you want to go first, or should I?" asks Bucky Steve, his grin widening as he feels the kid's fingers curl into his jacket, holding on for dear life and probably fearing Steve's revenge. Knowing Steve, the latter would, despite getting kicked into the snow and laughed at, go soft on the teen but said teenager didn't know about that. Steve playfully scowls at Peter, hands on his hips and giving him the disappointed-Captain-America-PSA-look that the kid had probably seen too often during school. 

"Hand the Spider over, Buck."

To the untrained eye, Steve looks convincingly pissed off, but Bucky could see past the stern facade. Steve is successfully messing with the kid. Said kid is easily fooled and starts pleading, nervousness dripping from every word, and Bucky notes with amusement that the hold on his jacket grows even tighter. The teen wasn't even realizing that clinging to Bucky wouldn't help him in any way. 

"Steve? Come on, that was not that bad, right? You were frozen before. Stuck in a bit of snow is nothing new to you."

Steve wears an incredulous look on his face as he raises an eyebrow at Peter's words. He glances at Bucky, silently asking the man if he misheard or if Peter just added fuel to the fire. Bucky shrugs his shoulders. Peter seemed to realize that his nervous stumbling over words wasn't helping him out of this mess. Bucky has to put some strength into his hold on the teen, throwing Steve an amused grin at the teen wriggling like a worm. 

"Whatever you're thinking of, please don't do it. Steve, I'm serious. Steve, no. Stop right there! Don't come closer!"

Despite his words and the evident panic in his voice, some nervous giggles are slipping between the teen's words. Bucky shakes his head at Steve, the latter wearing a stupidly wide grin as he draws closer, clearly amused by Peter's panicked rambling. 

"Stay away, Steve!" shouts Peter as the blond reaches out for the squirming teen, ready to fling him into the snow. It's a good thing they are at the compound, far from the eye of the public, because the scene unfolding on the Avenger's training grounds would have drawn various headlines in the news. It was quite a sight, the former Winter Soldier holding an unknown teenage boy captive while Captain America tries prying said teen off of his shoulder. 

"You're one sticky punk, aren't you?"

"Language, Bucky."

There is no real bite in Steve's voice, the blond too busy trying to avoid getting hit by a lanky arm that flails around while Peter tries to hold onto Bucky and simultaneously tries to push Steve away. Peter keeps shouting at Steve to leave him alone, threatening to stick to him if he gets too close, all the while laughing. His threats only last for so long before Peter lets out a yelp in surprise. His fingers let go of Bucky's jacket that was now lying on his lap, and he stared at it for a few moments, a puzzled look on his face. Peter slowly lifts his head, sitting on the snow-covered ground, dazed. His eyes fall onto Steve's and Bucky's faces. He swallows as the men smirk while looking down at him. In a blur of motion, Peter throws the jacket at its owner, successfully covering his head with it and earning a colorful curse. He uses the few seconds where Bucky is occupied with taking the jacket out of his face and tries dashing between the two men, choosing the fastest way back to the compound. 

The empathize is on trying. 

Steve stepped forward, grabbing the teen by the waist before Peter could run off. Peter let out a grunt as he was successfully tackled to the ground by a body twice his weight.

"Let's see how much you like playing in the snow."

Steve grins down at the teen pinned under him who, despite his earlier panic, throws back a challenging look at the super soldier. Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised at the smugness on the teen's face. It was typical for Spiderman to act confident, but he hasn't seen that look much in Peter Parker. It suits the kid. 

Steve's eyes widen in surprise as a small hand clamps around his wrists. With one powerful tug, their positions reverse, and the blond finds himself pressed into the ground, one arm pinned above his head. Peter leans over him with a wide grin on his face. Steve notices the teen's free hand has grabbed a good amount of snow, and it doesn't take a genius to guess what the kid was planning to do. The teen opens his mouth, probably to throw some witty remark at him, only to wipe his head to the side so fast it nearly causes Steve to flinch. He catches the widening of Peter's eyes.

"Don't!"

The command hits deaf ears, and before Steve knows what happens, he's not looking at a grinning Peter but at the cloudless sky above. He turns his head towards the noise on his right, and a grin spreads onto his face. Steve watches a ball of limps rolling a few meters with a chuckle. Bucky had successfully tackled Peter off of him, and he and the kid were now fighting for the upper hand. Steve grins at his best friend grumbling about hyperactive teens and Peter trying to shove the man off him, laughing at his complaints. He laughs as Peter lets out a shriek of protest when the older man starts to put snow into the opening of his jacket. 

"Stohohop, it's cold!"

"That's the point, punk."

Peter trashes under Bucky, who had made it to his challenge to shove as much snow as possible under the teen's clothes. Peter tries prying the icy fingers of his skin, laughing but shuddering at the coldness running through his body. Steve walks over, amused by his friend playing around like a kindergartener, watching the spectacle for a few minutes. In the beginning, Peter had been fiercely fighting back, but after some time, Steve noticed the teen growing tired. If it were anyone else, Steve wouldn't have wondered about giving up against the strength of a playful super-solider, but this was Peter. Spiderman doesn't grow tired this easily.

"Peter, are you alright?"

Steve's words cause Bucky to stop wrestling with the kid. He also had noticed the teen's movements become sluggish, but Peter hadn't earnestly told him to stop, and the older man hadn't put much thought into it. Now that he hovers over the teen, not holding him down anymore, he notices the complexion of the kid's face as unusually pale. Brown eyes glance up at them, a sheepish grin on the teen's face, and if Steve didn't know better, he would say the teen looks almost embarrassed.

"Too cold. Can't thermoregulate."

At Peter's words, Bucky turns his head at Steve, raising an eyebrow in silent question, hoping his friend knew what the teen was talking about. Steve wears a frown on his face, telling Bucky without words that his friend feels as much out of depth as he does with the short explanation. Peter must have caught their troubled expression as he tiredly tugged on Bucky's sleeve, gaining his attention.

"It's because of the spider DNA. I cannot regulate my temperature. My body struggles to create body heat like yours does. If it gets too cold-"

"Your body grows weak because it needs a certain temperature to function," finishes Steve Peter's sentence while looking down at the teen, the latter looking out of it but still nods at him with a small smile. Steve shakes his head at the teen, and Bucky doesn't feel like smiling at all, scowl deepening at the sight of a bluish hue on the boy's lips.

"Damn it, Peter, why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Before the teen could justify his lack of explanation, he finds himself bundled up in a jacket three sizes too big, the initials S.R. adorning the front. Not taking any risks of the teen being out in the cold for much longer, Bucky, despite the weak protests from Peter, throws the boy over his shoulder.

"Don't think we are letting you off the hook that easily," mutters the man under his breath as he carries the teen towards the compound. The automatic doors of the entrance already stand open when Bucky walks in. He kicks his running shoes off mid-step and hurries into the joint room. Despite his grumbling, the older man carefully puts Peter down on the couch. He straightens up, looking down on the freezing teen with a frown. Peter is cold, but the lack of shivering was a bit off-putting, giving little clue about what stage of hypothermia they are dealing with. 

The absence of shivering must have to do something with being unable to thermoregulate. Bucky had to ask Banner about that, not trusting the kid to give him all the information. 

"Friday, can you tell us Peter's body temperature?"

"Mr. Parker's body temperature currently lays around 94,64 °F. I recommend taking measurements to get the temperature up. It is beyond his average. A long-term drop in body temperature could cause health concerns, Mr. Rogers." 

"Thank you, Friday."

Steve turns towards Bucky, who controls the urge to roll his eyes at the kicked-puppy stare his friend is wearing. "He'll be fine, Steve. Go search for a blanket and make some tea or something. I'll take care of him."

Steve sends him a small smile. "Thanks, Buck."

Bucky shakes his head when his friend walks out of the room, not liking the guilty-ridden expression painted on the blond's face. Knowing Steve blames himself for not noticing something was up sooner was typical of the man. It made Bucky want to beat some sense into his best friend. He faces Peter again, the latter, at least looking relatively more aware of his surroundings thanks to Friday having raised the room temperature. He watches the teen fumble with the zipper of his jacket, a frown drawn on his youthful face as his fingers wouldn't work how he wanted them to. Peter stares at the metal hand popping up in his vision and pulls down the zipper he struggled skillfully. His jacket gets peeled off of him the next moment before a gruff voice causes him to lift his head. 

"Arms up, punk."

"Hmm?"

Brown eyes throw him a confused look, and although Bucky would have teased the teen for being not quick to take on, he swallows the comment. He had time to make fun of the kid after he got rid of the blue on his lips. 

"You need to put on dry clothes. If you get sick, Stark will throw a fit."

That coaxes a reaction out of the teen. 

"Not keen on Mr. Stark threatening to take your arm off?" asks Peter with a little smirk. 

Oh. Bucky grins. Seems like the teen isn't that out of it after all. He flicks Peter's forehead, earning a glare.

"I'll hear that every day. His threats don't work on me. Now, arms up."

Thankfully, Peter wore snow pants, which are relatively easy to pull off the teen. The thick sweatpants he wore under his outdoor clothes were dry, but Bucky couldn't say the same about the kid's socks and shirt. The gray shirt is soaked, sticking to Peter's skin all around. Thankfully, Steve wasn't here to see this, or Bucky would get an earful again. The soldier watches as Peter tugs at the front of his shirt, grimacing at the feeling of the wet fabric pulling off his skin, only to stick back when he lets it drop. 

Maybe he went a little overboard with the snow. With a sigh, he bends over and gets a hold of the end of the wet shirt. Peter made a noise of protest as Bucky pulled the undesirable article of clothing over his head, leaving him in nothing but his pants, but at least he was left with only dry clothes on his body. Bucky scans the room in search of the blankets he had seen other members of the compound use before the voice in the ceiling spoke to him again. 

"If I am allowed to interfere, Mr. Stark has arranged a range of special clothing for Mr. Parker in cases of a temperature drop."

"So Stark is aware of this problem of yours," says Bucky, glancing at the teen. Peter caught him looking and nodded.

"It wasn't fun when he found out. Mr. Stark caught on mid-February with winter almost over." The kid's expression is solemn as he talks. Bucky almost reaches out to ruffle his hair, amused by the seriousness with which Peter was telling him this as if it had been one of the worst days of his life and not his mentor being rightfully concerned. Instead, he gave a little shake of his head, a corner of his lips tugged upwards while walking over to a closet. He hears some shuffling behind him as he pulls out a set of blankets, almost throwing them at the kid in frustration as he sees the teen has stood up.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Peter sighs as he gets pushed back to sit on the couch with Bucky standing before him, sternly looking down on him. A person shouldn't be able to look as intimidating with an armful of baby blue blankets. 

"I was about to get the shirt Friday told you about."

"You will sit here and wait while I get that shirt. It's in your closet?"

Peter nods while pulling the blanket around his shoulders but not without rolling his eyes, letting out a small yelp as Bucky flicks a finger against his forehead. The teen glares up at him, but Bucky merely raises an eyebrow at him, a silent dare. Bucky gives him one last glance, checking that the teen is bundled up tightly and behaving, not wandering around on his own before he retreats. With Stark's AI speaking to him and giving directions, it is relatively easy to find the clothes despite the chaos in Peter's room.

"This looks pretty tight."

The man eyes the almost plain-looking textile in his hand. Bucky wasn't sure what he had expected, but knowing Stark, he thought whatever this was, it to be more eccentric as he took in the dark gray clothing. Maybe the billionaire held back on his desire for extravagance to accommodate the young vigilante's preference for simplicity. He had noticed that aside from throwing in some colors and graphic shirts, the teen likes to dress easy on the eye.

"It is, but it does a good job. Mr. Stark made several of these. They are great. Maybe you could ask him to make some for you and Steve too?"

Bucky refrains from telling the kid that he and Stark weren't on the level for him to ask the kid's mentor any favors, although the hopeful sparkle in the kid's eyes tells him that Peter thought about that matter differently. Shrugging his shoulders, he skilfully avoids giving him an answer. The man stretches the sleeves to form an opening and holds it out for Peter. 

Peter tilts his head to the side, his eyes wandering up to meet Buckys, giving him a look before settling back onto the clothing held out for him, confusion evident on his face. Feeling merciful, Bucky takes Peter's wrist. "You do have to put this on to work, you know?" teases the man while pulling the teen's hand through the sleeve, noticing with a smirk how a hue of pink spread over the teen's ears. Maybe he should start acting more like this if it's this easy to make the kid sputter around in embarrassment. Oh, he has to tell Sam about this. The kid tugs at his wrist, checks growing red as Bucky tries to pull his other hand through the second sleeve. When he was about to pull the shirt over Peter's head, the teen had enough. He pushes the hands away, sending a frown at the man.

"I can do this on my own!" 

Catching the smirk on Bucky's face, it dawns on the teen that the ex-assassin was doing this on purpose. Peter quickly realizes that protesting wouldn't work on the man. Bucky had the mission to embarrass him, but Peter wouldn't let that happen. He was Spiderman, for crying out loud. Peter was perfectly capable of dressing alone. Getting cold slowed the process down, he had to admit. But still, Peter's sixteen years old. 

He knows how to wear a shirt. Not planning to play along with Bucky, the now slightly frustrated teen leaned back into the couch and slid down to avoid the hands pulling further on the long sleeve. He uses the new-won distance to roll to the right, trying to make a run for it.

"Get back here, punk," scolds Bucky, but the playful twinkle in his eyes betrays the stern tone of his voice. 

"I won't let you mess with me."

It would have sounded more convincing if Peter wasn't kneeling at the end of the couch, both arms stuck into the shirt but glaring instead of pulling it over his head, wearily observing what the man a few feet away from him was planning to do. Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, amused.

"Doesn't look like you do a good job."

Peter squints at the words.

"If I pull this over my head, are you leaving me alone?"

Humoring the kid, Bucky acts thoughtful before grinning a shit-eating grin that Peter has seen too often. 

"Why should I do that? I've got to make sure you are wearing it correctly. I cannot trust you to keep yourself warm."

The teen deflates at the words, almost sounding petulant now.

"I would have told you and Steve! Sooner or later..."

When the man raises a single eyebrow, the teen huffs in frustration. But he is not making a move that shows he agrees to let Bucky help him. The tension hangs thickly over the room as the two hold a stare-off. Both are waiting for the other to make the first move, Bucky watching the teen with rapt eyes while Peter's muscles are bulging under his sweatpants, ready to jump over the couch at any second. Bucky was the first to move. Without looking, his arm shots to the side, grabbing a hold of a stray pillow and throwing it at the teen while rushing forward. Thanks to the room's raised temperature, Peter wasn't as sluggish as before but still nowhere near his usual speed. His spidey sense prevents him from being hit in the head, raising his arms along with the thermo-shirt around his wrists to block the flying pillow. Peter's brows draw together in confusion as his spider sense still acts up, even after keeping the pillow from colliding with his face. 

"Holy-"

The rest of his sentence gets lost in a high-pitched squeak as a metal arm wraps around his middle, tackling him successfully into the couch. Dark strands fall onto Bucky's face, the man grinning down at the teen who glares up from his position under him. It's a little insulting how easily he got him pinned on his back, straddling him by sitting on his tights and throwing him a winning grin that irks Peter just by looking at it.

"Get off," whines the teen and is about to push at Bucky's chest to shove him off, but the older of the two catches the shirt hanging between Peter's wrists and presses it down, forcing Peter's hands away. 

"You're not in the position to make claims, kid."

While forcing the teen into the shirt, Bucky grins, an occasional chuckle leaving his lips at the glares sent his way. By the end of the ordeal, Peter let his head fall back onto the couch in defeat, looking absolutely done with everything. His hair is a tousled mess of brown curls hanging in his eyes, the tips of his ears red again from embarrassment. The teen rolls his eyes at Bucky when the latter asks if he is still feeling cold with a mild dose of sarcasm. The man catches Peter's expression, poking him in the now finally covered stomach. "Don't get sassy, punk," he threatens with a grin promising no good. He is about to poke Peter a second time, for good measure, when his hand gets caught in a firm hold. Peter lifts his head, sending him a glare.

"Don't."

Bucky raises an eyebrow.

"What? You're ticklish?

When the teen doesn't answer immediately, Bucky pokes him again, this time in the side, eyes trained on Peter's face. Peter's jaw is clenching under the pressure of trying to keep his facial expressions under control, but the unmistakable nervousness creeping on his face is almost too easy to detect. Without batting an eye, Bucky frees his hand out of Peter's hold, ignoring the confusion written all over the teen's face as he places his hand over the teen's middle. He just let it hover there, a few inches over the teen's tummy and not moving, never taking his eyes off the teen's face. Peter glances from the hand up to Bucky's face and back to the hand, eyes widening as he sees a single finger twitch. He observes with the morbid curiosity of someone watching a horror movie how the rest of Bucky's hand stays motionless while one finger moves as if independent of the rest of the body. Peter wasn't sure if it was because of the prosthetic, but somehow Bucky managed to wiggle just one finger, then two, and then three, while the rest stayed static. Under other circumstances, he would be fascinated by this observation. In this instance, it merely serves to freak the hell out of Peter. All of the vibranium fingers are moving now in a manner that only indicates one specific outcome of what happens next, and he is not ready for it. 

When the hand starts to descend, he breaks. Before the wiggling finger could close the gap, Peter loses his will to pretend to be tough in front of Bucky. 

"Okay, okay, I admit it. I'm ticklish, alright? You can stop now. You don't have to prove anything!"

Bucky merely raises his eyebrows in amusement at the panicked words stumbling out of the teen's mouth, accompanied by a pair of hands gripping his wrist, hindering his hand from moving further down. 

"After your stunt from earlier, I'm not sure to believe you. Better check this out myself, just to be sure."

"You don't have to do tha-AHAHA! NOAHAHAH BUHUHUCKY!"

"I'm not convinced, Peter. Does this count as ticklish?"

A grin grows on Bucky's face as he watches the teen under him squirming like a worm on a hook. He had not even touched the teen before nervous giggles slipped out Peter. As soon as his fingers actually dug into the flesh of the kid's stomach, Peter's resolve had broken. He didn't try to hold his reaction back, fueling Bucky's curiosity to see what other noises he could coax out of the teen. His stomach has to be a rather good spot by the way Peter threw his head back as Bucky focused his wriggling fingers to dig into the sides of his tummy. Slender hands tried to catch his, but it was too easy to bat them out of the way to get back on skittering his fingertips over the smooth material of Peter's shirt. The shirt clung tightly against his lean body, making it very easy for the metal digits to glide over the middle of Peter's tummy, earning him little jumps whenever he traveled towards his belly button or his lowest rib. 

"Is that a bad spot?" The answer was obvious, but it was too fun to pass the opportunity to watch Peter struggling to answer. Bucky grins as he watches the teen trying to form a coherent sentence between his laughing fit.

"Yes, yes, yes, yehehehes! It's sohoho bahad, it's bahahahad Buhucky!"

"It's that bad?" asks Bucky, acting surprised as he sends ten fingers onto the small patch between the teen's waistline and belly button, feeling the muscle contracting under his fingertips as the teen tries to curl into himself with a shriek but is unable to. His hands get shoved off by flailing arms.

"It's that bad," confirms Peter with a glare, taking the chance to catch his breath while the super soldier had mercy on him.

"That's too bad. I like that spot," muses Bucky as he looks down on the said spot, catching the nervous look Peter throws him out of the corner of his eyes.

"Don't you dare," warns Peter, failing to sound intimidating while grabbing onto Bucky's wrists. 

"Oh, scary," mocks the man before letting himself fall forward. Peter lets out a panicked squeal and throws his hands up to catch the heavy body that's about to collapse on him. Bucky lessens his fall just in time with one arm probed against the back of the couch while using the chance to get a hold of the teen's arms with his free hand, wrestling them over Peter's head and pinning them there. Brown, wide-blown eyes stare up at him before Peter shakes himself out of puzzlement. 

"You tricked me!" 

"I thought you're smarter than that."

"And I thought you don't use dirty tricks."

"Seems like you've got some things to learn, punk. Now, where were we?" Bucky asks with a grin, challenging a Cheshire cat as he wriggles his fingers in Peter's face before focusing on the teen's stomach. 

"No, nohohoo, Bucky pleahesehe, anywhere but there!" begins the teen to plead, tugging at his captured wrists, lifting his head, and trying to see what the man was doing. Bucky grins.

"You want me to try a different spot? Sure."

"NO! Thatahat's not what I mea-AHAHAHAH STOHOP! YOu know thahahat's nhohot whahat I meant! You ahahre suhhuch ahahahan. Suhuch ahahan-NO! DOHOHON'T!"

Peter's legs hammer down on the couch behind Bucky's back. The ex-assassin worries for a short moment if the furniture would withstand the constant abuse of a spider-kid kicking his legs around uselessly. His focus is back on Peter when he hears a high-pitched squeal escape the teen before a wave of hysterical cackling fills the room. Bucky raises an eyebrow at the reaction, concluding that he found the second worst spot on the teen. His right hand hovers between Peter's armpit and highest rips, fingers digging into the place with vigor. 

"I'm almost convinced you told me the truth about being ticklish."

"Almohohohst? Whahahat do yohohu mean almost?"

Bucky stops tickling, eyes trained on the red-faced teen who tries catching his breath, body shaking when occasional after-giggle slips past his lips. 

"Just saying, when I do this," he pinches Peter's hipbones, earning a full-body jump and a cackle, "or this," Bucky claws his free hand between Peter's ribs and let his fingers skim over the space between the bones to send the teen back into a high-pitched giggle fit, "I would say you are ticklish."

"Are you kidding me?" asks Peter. He wears a bewildered expression. "I've told you from the beginning, I'm ticklish!"

"You could have been lying," retorts Bucky. 

"Are you seriously not believing me anymore because of earlier?" asks Peter. The man had another teasing remark already sitting on the tip of his tongue but halted as he caught something akin to hurt playing on the teen's face. Bucky feels thrown off. He knew he should do something, but looking at Peter's face and seeing the wounded expression, he caught himself out of depth for a second time that day. That's why he needs Steve. Steve is better at this kind of stuff. 

Peter is still looking at him, but as the man above him doesn't answer, the younger man's expression turns hard. Bucky's eyes widen as he gets shoved off, unable to withstand the power behind the thin arms that were now easily pulled out of his grasp. It seems that the spider-kid had his full powers back in play. Watching the kid silently collect his belongings, Bucky blinks slowly before getting a hold of himself. As Peter was about to walk out, he called after him.

"Peter, please wait!"

Whatever the teen heard in his voice, it had to be convincing enough for him to stop in his tracks and turn around to send him a questioning look, daring him to give a good explanation. 

"Can we sit down and talk about this?"

Bucky nods at the couch. There is a spark of hesitancy flickering on Peter's features, and the teen is about to open his mouth to answer when Steve walks into the room. Steve glances at his friend standing behind the couch. Something must have happened for Bucky, who looked troubled with his eyebrows pinched into a frown, and Peter, the latter holding his wet-dripping clothes in his arms, wearing an expression far from the cheerful smile Steve is used to seeing on his face. 

"I made you some tea, Peter. Would you like to sit down with us?"

Steve watches Peter throw a glance at Bucky, the latter having not moved from his position behind the couch before letting out a small sigh that Steve wasn't sure he was supposed to hear.

"Okay," mumbled Peter, sounding defeated, but walks back to the couch, leaving his wet clothes on the floor next to the couch table. 

Steve throws Bucky a questioning glance before putting the tray on the table and handing Peter a cup of tea. 

"I also found these," Steve said and pulled a bundle of fuzzy Captain America-themed socks out of his pants pocket, letting them drop on Peter's lap.

"Nice try, Steve, but I won't wear these around the tower. I like the lab privileges."

"Could have worked," says Steve and slaps his knee in faux disappointment to lighten up the mood. Peter's lip twitches at the reaction before he takes a small sip of his tea. "It's good. Thank you, Steve."

"I'm happy to hear that, Peter."

While Peter takes another gulp of his softly steaming mud, Steve subtly nods towards Peter, telling Bucky to fix whatever he has done. Bucky rolls his eyes but gingerly sets his cup of tea down and leans his forearms on his knees before addressing the teen sitting between them.

"Peter, I want to apologize. I was worried about you earlier, but I wouldn't stop believing you because of what happened, even if I were still upset about it. I meant to tease you a little, but I overdid it. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or make you believe I don't trust your words. I'm sorry." 

Bucky glances at Peter, who sits still, looking at the cup in his hands with a thoughtful look. "I guess I should have told you about this earlier," began the teen, cutting both soldiers off when they opened their mouths to protest. "I trust you to have my back. It's not like I believe you would use that information against me. We are a team, after all," Bucky watches Peter's thumb absentmindedly running along the edge of his cup, halting as the teen continues. "I guess I was too embarrassed to tell you."

"Embarrassed?" asks Steve, head tilted to the side in confusion. Peter nods before directing his eyes at him, a shy smile tugging on his lips.

"Isn't it kinda silly? I've got all these powers through the spider bite altering my DNA, but when it gets too cold, I become fatigued. Meanwhile, you are this strong, and the cold doesn't bother you two.

 

I know you can't compare the changes of the serum with my enhancements, but sometimes I think about it and, you know, feel kinda useless." 

Steve hums, fingers drumming against his leg as he thinks about Peter's words. Before he comes to voice his thoughts, a voice on his right beats him to it. Bucky's eyes are trained on the young vigilante sitting between them. 

"You will never be able to beat that flaw of your powers, but stressing about it will get you nowhere." Steve frowns at the harsh words, but when he glances at Peter, he finds him paying close attention to every one of Bucky's words. The latter puts his hand over Peter's knees, hovering there before putting it down, giving it a short squeeze. "Knowing your flaws is one of your biggest strengths. Just keep that in mind." 

Peter sends the man a soft smile. 

"Thanks, Bucky."

Bucky glances at him from the side, the corner of his lip tugged upwards. 

"Don't mention it, punk."

#ticklish! peter parker #ticklish spiderman #marvel tickle fic #marvel fanfic #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #tickling #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #winter soldier #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #marvel

[cialovesklopp]

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — in which amara is done with being nice and decides to sue her ex-boyfriend for defamation with the support of her friends and lover

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @aechii @lorarri

masterlist

Hold onto your seats because it just got messy and we are expecting a lot! Just when we thought Amara Imani had closed the old chapter with ex-boyfriend Evan Henderson, she takes him to court for a captivating legal battle. So buckle up, dear readers because lawsuits always have include unexpected twists, emotions and ugly truths.

Yes, you heard right— pop queen and music star Amara Imani is not holding back and is suing her the millionaire heir for defamation. We all remember that particular interview Evan gave about the break up— well, it seems as if not only did it cost her a lot of money, but she is also blaming him for the fallout that led to the heartbreaking cancellation of her tour.And let's not forget the web of lies Evan spun, further adding salt to her wounds. Ouch!

And that lawsuit couldn’t have come at a worse time for Henderson. Still fresh from the heartache of his spilt with model Kaia Gerber, he had even confirmed that he had played with the idea of rekindling with ex Amara Imani — and just like that she serves him the manila folder. They do say, revenge, is best served icy cold.

And yet the pain runs even deeper for Henderson as he watches his former sweetheart enjoy the power of love. While Evan Henderson finds himself entangled in a web of failed relationships, with more break-ups than fingers on hands, Amara Imani is reeking and blooming of love. From adorable Instagram stories that drop a few hints about her mysterious new love interest to being spotted numerous times in the romantic streets of Paris, Amara has the world swooning.

But that's not all – get ready for even more music! Imani has teased fans with snippets of new music that is about to come, including two more songs for the deluxe version of Mon Amour. It seems that her new found inspiration is nurturing her well with motivation.

A world wide hunt is on to find out who Amara Imani’s new beau is, with fans dying to know who she declared her love to. The internet turned into detectives, trying to piece together the clues and whispers to uncover the identity of this lucky soul. After Imani posted a picture, where she quoted Taylor swift ‘karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight how to me’, we now find actor Timothée Chalamet (Imani was rumored once to have a fling with), singer Harry Styles (that already expressed his admiration for the black singer) and F1 driver Pierre Gasly (who Imani was seen partying with) as top contenders. We’re all for sure curious as we wait for the revelation of Imani herself.

But don’t worry dear readers, we will update you regularly with news and hope to soon find out who captured Amara Imani’s heart.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛.𝐠𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩

liked by evan.news and 2643 others

hollywood-celeb.gossip just after breaking up with evan henderson, kaia gerber was seen on several dates with newly single actor austin butler. seems like there’s a new star couple

view all 352 comments

username wasn’t it reported that evan was proposing?

username all the evan fans now jumping from the amara hate train to the kaia hate train

username i’m just glad that everyone understands now that amara was never the problem

username FR they were dragging her name when it’s clear that he’s the one with issues

username another fame gold digger after evan, look how fast she switched

username kaia was never a gold digger, she’s also a nepo baby

username i swear to god, no one can keep up anymore with the amount of girlfriends he changes

username i just wanna know why kaia even decided to break up with him

username we all know no one bought their mutual break up shit with the way kaia’s already dating austin butler

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢

liked by liyah_clark, graceywood and 18.037.462 others

amara.imani gracey appreciation post because she’s better than yours (do not ask me what i was wearing in the last picture, idk myself)

the user turned her comments off on this post

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe fanfic #mon amour #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe imagine #amara imani #kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe x black reader #kylian mbappe x black oc #kylian mbappe x black! oc #kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe fanfiction #kylian mbappe x singer! oc #kylian mbappé x oc #kylian mbappé series #kylian mbappé x singer! oc #kylian mbappé x black! reader #kylian mbappé fanfiction #kylian mbappé x amara imani #kylian mbappe x amara imani #kylian mbappé x reader #kylian x oc #kylian x black! reader #kylian x black! oc #football fanfics #footballer x reader #football player x reader #footballer x oc

[kashi-prompts]

a little moment with protective Kakashi and his friend who is more than a friend but no one has the balls to admit it with the prompt being “don’t look now but my ex just walked in”

Title: Deserve Better

Prompt: Above

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

Rating: T

TW: Emotional manipulation/emotional abuse, overall emotionally abusive relationship.

A/N: My brain decided to visit today. 4.5 hours later, I finally have a finished wip. Sorry it's long? I got carried away. Thanks for reading <3

***

Crickets sang their mid-summer song like a melody in your ear, chirping through the hazy aura that hung in the evening sky. Beside you, your boyfriend's sandaled feet stepped out of unison with yours, his gait a millisecond behind you, enough for you to notice.

"Everything okay, Rayuu?" You asked, feeling his clammy hand sweating beneath your lazy grip on his fingers. You glanced over at him, feeling suddenly uneasy as the two of you traveled the path back to your shared apartment. A warm breeze picked up and spun a strand of your hair from its bun. You used the moment as an excuse to let go of his hand, pushing your hair away from your eyes. 

"Fine," he murmured, his gaze settled on the ground beneath him. He didn't reach back out for your hand. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck, pushing down the brown locks at its nape. He had been quiet all day, but you had just assumed it to be exhaustion from his last mission. Now his expression seemed to go beyond a fatigued demeanor. Something was bothering him. Perhaps you had said something over dinner this evening? Or maybe you had forgotten to do something he had asked? You frowned, tipping your head quizzically at him. 

"You seem distant today," you pointed out calmly, "something on your mind?"

Rayuu looked over at you, his blue eyes soft under the golden light of the setting sun. You met his gaze, feeling your chest tighten as his eyebrows lifted slightly. Was that pity in his eyes?

"Can we sit?" he motioned to the bench close by, and you suddenly became apprehensive. Had you done something wrong? 

"What's this all about?" you sat beside him, your voice quiet as he stared out into the distance. He avoided your eyes, choosing to watch a pair of children play in a nearby field instead. He pursed his lips, pressing them together as he drew in a deep breath. 

"I don't know how to say this - so I guess I'll just come out and say it. I've met someone," Rayuu said all at once, his elbows balanced at his knees as he continued to avoid your gaze. Your stomach twisted, a strange icy chill spinning down the center of your spine at his words. Your world careened to a stop. 

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed, his head sagging, "it all happened so suddenly. I didn't mean for it to be like this."

His shoulders tensed under what he knew was an icy gaze staring back at him. If he had chosen to break up with you because of something you had done, that would be one thing. But choosing another woman? After two years together?  

"How could you - .... ? You're leaving me? Have you? Have you already slept with her?" you asked him coldly, your voice steady despite your hands shaking in your lap. Your fingers twitched in your legs, vanquishing the urge to not shove a kunai directly into his eye. He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his gaze away from you. Coward.

"How long?"

His shoulders lifted as he drew another deep breath in, his eyelashes settling on his cheekbones as he closed his eyes. How could someone you love turn into a complete stranger in mere moments? 

"How long, Rayuu?" 

"4 months." 

Another punch to the stomach. Your mind went blank. 

"How could you do this?" you asked quietly after a few incredulous moments passed where you searched for the words in your mind. Your thoughts rode on a carousel of abuses you wished to hurl at him, your tongue sharp with acid and malice. You wanted to hurt him just as he had to you. Yet, you knew it would do you no good. He had made up his mind.

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage again. 

"Who is she?" you prodded, standing up. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms so tight it very well may have drawn blood. 

"I can't say." 

"Tell me." 

A beat passed as you hovered over him, his eyes staring at the cobbled street below his sandals. You wanted to shove his head back, to make him look at you. 

"[y/n], it doesn't matter. I told you what's going on - isn't that enough?"

"Tell me who she is," your voice was shrill, but you couldn't help it. Years of your life squandered on a man who didn't even have the decency to look at you as he broke your heart in favor of another woman. Shock. Anger. Disgust. It all whirled in your mind and made you delirious. Like a bad dream that you couldn't wake yourself up from. 

"Mai," Rayuu whispered, shame on his lips. You unintentionally took a step back from him, your face contorting in a way you didn't think was possible as your hand covered your mouth. You felt shattered. Your old teammate? The one you had spent so many years training with, the one you had lived with before you had moved in with Rayuu, the one you had trusted your life with. Not only had your boyfriend betrayed you, but your friend? 

You spun around on your heel, unable to say anything more. You wanted to kill him- to kill her. It takes two to tango, does it not? You started to walk away when he called out to you. Tears brimmed at your waterline, quickly spilling down your cheekbones. 

"[y/n], wait," Rayuu called, his expression mournful despite it being his fault, "I'm sorry." 

Your gaze was pointed, features allowing nothing barring malice for someone you once trusted so profoundly. You shook your head, incredulous that he would even believe for a moment an apology would make anything better. Your heart was shattered, torn from its cavity, and burned at the stake. 

"I want your stuff out of the apartment by the end of the week. I don't ever want to see you again."

***

"One more, please," you asked the bartender as politely as possible despite knowing you were becoming sloppy. He looked over at you from the end of the bar, sympathy in his gaze as he carefully shook and poured you another fruity drink.  

"I'm closing your tab, miss," he replied, sliding the drink across the bar to you, two fingers at the stem of the glass. You looked up at him, knowing how bad you must look at this moment. Yet you didn't protest, sliding money out of your pocket and counting it quietly. How pathetic you were. 

The bar behind you was surprisingly quiet for a Friday evening, you thought. You wondered if most of the shinobi were out on missions. Clearly, you weren't a good enough ninja to be on a mission right now like the rest of them. You weren't a good girlfriend, you weren't a good ninja - what else were you bad at? You took another sip of your drink. Even the alcohol didn't numb your thoughts. 

The end of the week had come and gone. When you returned to your apartment earlier that evening, it felt like you were walking into someone else's living room rather than your own. Rayuu had taken all of his belongings, leaving very little for you. Sure, he made more money than you, and most of the furniture belonged to him, but he could have at least left you the chair you loved so dearly. The one you curled up in late at night to read your books. 

Had he moved in with Mai, you wondered, your finger tracing the rim of your glass. Had they made plans to live together before you had even known? Was their pillow talk just laughing at how stupid you were for not noticing the signs you now realized were blatantly obvious? The late nights out, the whispering phone calls, his distant disposition towards your relationship? He was a higher-ranking shinobi than you were, and you had simply assumed his career was taking a more considerable toll on him recently than before. 

Still, nothing lessened the betrayal you felt. You hunched over the bar more, feeling your eyesight begin to shift if you turned your head too quickly. 

"[y/n]?" You heard beside you. "How are you?" looking up, a turf of silver hair stood before you, a single dark exposed eye crinkling in a smile as your old teammate tilted his head at you. You felt his hand gently slap your shoulder, squeezing your trapezius muscle as he smiled at you.

"Kakashi?" you felt a smile creep on your lips for the first time in a week. 

"It's been a long time," he told you. You looked over his shoulder, noticing your old friends wandering in the bar behind them. Something tugged at you at the sight of them. 

"I don't want you hanging out with guys, is all," Rayuu had told you late one night. "You just can't trust them, you know? It would make me feel better if you stopped hanging out with them." 

It hadn't been easy letting go of your friends. But Rayuu had convinced you it was for your own benefit. As the years went on, you slowly loosened your grip on your friendships, heartache in your soul but warmth in your heart as you knew it made Rayuu happy. Now, you saw through the manipulative tactic he had placed on you to control you, as well as the irony of it all. Bitterness rose in your throat. 

"You okay?" Kakashi's thin eyebrows knitted together, seeing the glazed-over look in your eyes as he settled beside you on a barstool. 

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling your chest tighten at the sight of all your old friends calling out to you as they wandered toward the bartender. You smiled softly at them, wondering how many memories you had missed out on just like this because of how naive you had been. 

Kakashi had been the hardest one to let go of. He was your friend, your true friend. Someone you knew you could rely on regardless of the circumstances. Your friendship went back as long as you had a genin headband wrapped around your forehead. Maybe a crush as well, but you would never admit it. Despite the longevity of your relationship with him, you had obeyed your boyfriend's wishes.

Kakashi was the one Ryuu was most jealous of. Rightfully so, you supposed. He would eye him cautiously at every event where their paths would cross, holding you closer to his hip as you wanted desperately to fall back into old habits of cracking jokes with him and Gai, but you had remained casual. 

Still, Kakashi was your friend. And maybe something more, if you had pursued it. You were too shy to tell him how you felt, so instead, your feelings fell to the wayside, and your relationship with Rayuu filled the void. 

"Where's Rayuu?" Kakashi dipped his head, trying to catch your wandering gaze as he let go of your shoulder. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you felt like a levy had been opened. How you missed everyone, you realized. How you missed Kakashi. Tears threatened your waterline once more, and Kakashi's gaze softened immediately. 

"Hey," he called softly, touching your shoulder again. There was no pity in his eyes like everyone else who knew gave you. Only genuine concern for you. "Let's get some fresh air." 

You agreed, downing the rest of your drink in one swift gulp. He turned to ensure you could walk on your own, although barely. The world shifted slightly, and he steadied you as you reached a bench outside. It was similar to the one further down the cobble path where the beginning of this mess had all begun. You wiped the tears from your cheek as you sat down, trying to grasp your slipping emotions. 

"What's going on?" the silver-haired Jonin asked. His body turned to you, starkly contrasting how Rayuu had shielded himself from you earlier in the week. You shook your head, your chin quivering as you looked up, trying desperately to keep the tears from escaping. They slipped beneath your lids and down your cheeks despite your best efforts. 

"Rayuu cheated on me. With Mai," you told him, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt wrong to say it out loud. As though it weren't real if you just kept it in your head. But it was real, and your apartment was empty now. 

Kakashi's expression darkened, "he what?" 

"Don't make me repeat it," you breathed, exasperated. You knew he didn't want you to repeat yourself, but the effort it took to say it to begin with was enough to break your heart again. He looked away, his jaw set as his finger tapped against his leg. 

"He took his things today," you continued, a hiccup threatening at the back of your throat. Your tears cooled the warmth on your cheeks from the alcohol. Kakashi closed his eye, shaking his head as he looked back over at you. 

"[y/n]," he began, "I'm sorry you're going through all this. You don't deserve to be treated like this. He doesn't deserve you." 

You looked over at him, the street light above illuminating his features despite most of them hiding behind a blue piece of fabric. He seemed genuinely troubled by your news; how he looked at you caused you to fold. 

You couldn't help it. You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you were wracked with quiet sobs. You held a hand over your mouth to muffle your cry. 

"[y/n]," he murmured to you wistfully, his breath warm against your neck. Although preoccupied with your cries, you couldn't help but notice how he hesitatingly wrapped his arms around you. No one would have ever suspected "Friend-Killer Kakashi" to be so gentle in such a tumultuous moment in your life. But the warmth of his body was the first you had felt all week. You melted into him, clinging to his shoulder as more tears fell onto his shirt.

"I'm sorry, I'm getting your shirt all wet," you pulled back sometime later, your breath shuddering from crying. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

"That is so like you to care about my shirt when you're the one that is crying," he smiled softly at you. You laughed lightly, pushing your palm against your eyes to rid yourself of any more tears. 

"I'm sorry, though," you said again, looking away in embarrassment, "for crying." 

"[y/n]," Kakashi said to you quietly, shaking his head slightly, "I've known you longer than I've known most people in this village. You can cry on my shoulder any time you want." 

You smiled at him through another hiccup, a blush creeping across your cheeks at his comment. Had he always been so caring? Yes - of course he had. You had just been blind. 

"But I haven't even spoken to you in so long," you told him sadly, remembering how you avoided him whenever you were with Rayuu. 

"It's fine," he told you, "I know the reason." 

"The reason?" You stiffened, wondering if he had known about your crush all those years ago.

"His jealousy, and all," he waved a dismissive hand, intentionally not saying his name.

You frowned, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it's as so obvious. Rayuu's jealousy was always targeted at you in particular." 

"Well, understandable, I suppose." 

Your eyes shot up to him, and he quickly back peddled, "I- uh - it was just some rumor Gai had accidentally started a few years back. There is no truth to it." 

"A rumor?" You narrowed your eyebrows, confused. Had someone found out about how she felt?

Kakashi waved a dismissive hand. Was he blushing? 

"It's nothing." 

You pursed your lips, leaning forward, "tell me, Kakashi. What are you talking about?" 

"[y/n], why would you care about some stupid rumor? You're too bright to care about what other people think." 

You cocked an eyebrow, seeing him dance around the subject. 

"It's about me being with someone? Me and who?" 

Kakashi looked away, feigning inattentiveness by watching a group of younger shinobi exit the bar, sloshed. Blush prickled at the tips of his ears. Realization hit you.

"About you and me?" You asked. His eye swiveled back to you, searching your face. The two of you blushed furiously. 

"It was years ago, [y/n]," he shook his head, leaning back in his seat in an attempt to appear uncaring, "we were just kids." 

You nodded, looking down. Kids, yes. You sighed, watching him look away still. He was a master at hiding his emotions, unlike you. 

"Right, kids," you repeated, looking down. The pair sat silently for a few beats as you digested this new information. Was it new? Not really. You looked over at him, the way he leaned back against the bench so nonchalantly a deep contrast to Rayuu's perpetual uptight demeanor. You welcomed Kakashi's calm presence. Something familiar. Something you had forgotten you loved. 

"I should get going," you stood, wobbling slightly on the spot as you pushed your hair from your eyes. Kakashi looked up at you, turning his head back at the group of men that had just left the bar. 

"Let me walk you home," he offered, standing up. He towered over you, his build wider than you remembered. How long had it been since you last saw him? 

"I can take care of myself," you lifted a defensive hand, remembering how Rayuu would always demean your skills as a kunoichi. 

"I know you can," he replied sincerely, "I've seen what you are capable of. I'd just like to make sure you get home in one piece before you fall in the river or something." 

You laughed, pushing your hair away from your eyes once more. You had forgotten how much he made you laugh. Or the way he made you feel capable. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be defensive," you said quietly. 

"It's okay," he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, "I understand the place you're coming from." 

He hesitated, looking at you, "I don't mean to share my opinions, and I hope you don't find this offensive, but you deserve better than him, [y/n]." 

You looked up at him, unsure of how to respond. Over the last week, it had become more apparent just how ignorant you were to the circumstances Rayuu subjected you to. His controlling nature had dominated your life, leaving you vulnerable and weak to his rules, so you didn't end up alone. And yet, here you were anyway. Alone. 

But were you? Kakashi's eye crinkled in a delicate smile, the kind you used to receive when you would tell him a bad joke, and he felt bad for you. This time, something different was behind it, something you hadn't seen before. Your chest tightened. 

When neither of you said a word, you both began walking, your stride in unison with his, falling into an old rhythm just as your relationship with him had. Your limbs felt heavy from the drinks, but your heart felt lighter. 

"We should spar soon," you offered suddenly, looking over at him, "like the old days."

Kakashi nodded, his eyebrow lifted as he contemplated your offer. 

"We should," he glanced down at you, "your wind technique is always a hassle against my lightning. It always served as a catalyst to improve my skills." 

You smiled, "tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow." 

***

The cool seasonal air of fall nipped at your cheeks as you entered the bar, tired from your week-long mission. Since your break up, your mission rating had gone up significantly. Maybe it was the amount you were training now, or perhaps it was the quality of your training that had improved, ergo, enhancing your skills and confidence as a kunoichi. Regardless, you felt like a different person. 

"Give the lady a drink, will you?" Asuma called to the bartender, slapping a palm between your shoulder blades as Kurenai smiled proudly beside him. "She just got back from her first S-Rank mission." 

"How did it go?" Kurenai asked, her chin balanced in her palm. Her ruby lips smiled at you, and you couldn't help but feel prideful for a moment. 

"Smoothly," you nodded, taking the drink from the bartender's hand, "the Hokage was pleased with our report." 

"And where is your teammate now?" Asuma asked without looking, his fist wrapped around the handle of a large beer. 

"I'm here," Kakashi appeared behind you, sitting beside you on the barstool.

"Always late, this one," you shoved a thumb over your shoulder at him, and he shook his head, lifting two fingers at the bartender. A glass of sake appeared before you moments later, its clear contents sloshing around in a shot glass. You looked over at Kakashi, your eyebrows lifted in surprise as he held the glass up between you both.

"Cheers," he said, handing you the shot, "to your first successful s-rank mission. You earned it." 

You licked your lip as you tried to hide your grin. 

"Couldn't have done it without you," you told him earnestly.

The glasses clinked, and you quickly took the shot, your glasses slamming in unison against the oak bar. You giggled, looking back up at him as he chuckled alongside you. You pushed your hair from your face, your cheeks flushed already as you looked over his shoulder. 

Suddenly, your body froze, and you quickly averted your eyes. Rayuu had walked in alone, his eyes scanning the bar as you looked away. Heart pounding, you leaned against the bar and shielded your face. You heard a quizzical noise come from Kakashi's throat as he leaned closer to you. 

"Was top shelf too strong?" He jested, not realizing the heat radiating off your ears. 

"It's not that," you moved your hand to your mouth, wondering how you could get out of here without him noticing. You cursed under your breath. You hadn't seen him since that day on the bench. It was a relatively small bar, frequented mainly by shinobi after missions. How you had avoided him this long was unknown to you, but it stung extra for him to walk in while you were celebrating. 

"What is it?" Kakashi asked, his tone changing. 

"Don't look," you told him through gritted teeth, "my ex just walked in." 

Kakashi quickly sat back up in his seat, his spine straight as you continued to hunch over the bar. You shook your head. Were your hands shaking? You glanced over, realizing he was trying to shield you from view with his body. 

"Hey," Kurenai appeared beside you, whispering in your ear, "do you want me to see if the bartender will ask him to leave? He already looks drunk. I doubt they'll serve him." 

"No," you waved dismissively, "He'll know I'm here." 

"Mhm," Kurenai nodded, looking over your shoulder, "he's alone. I wonder if the rumor is true."

"The rumor?"

"Kuranai-" Kakashi warned, looking past you. 

"She should know, Kakashi," the black-haired woman gestured to you as you looked between them.

"I don't think now is the time-" 

"Mai and Rayuu broke up," Kurenai stated shortly, "there. See? That's all." 

Kakashi sighed heavily, looking down at you. Kuranai squeezed your shoulder before Asuma pulled her away. 

"I hope he doesn't try-"

"[y/n]?" 

Your blood ran cold in your veins, your hand jolting as you knocked over the empty shot glass. Behind you, Kurenai and Asuma looked over, their eyes on you. You took a moment, collecting yourself before you lifted your gaze. He was disheveled, hair brown hair greasy and unkempt. 

"What are you doing here, Rayuu?" Was all you could manage. You should have just ignored him. You should have just pretended you didn't hear him over the noise of the chatter in the bar. Still, you folded. Weak.

"I was jus' looking for a drink," Kurenai had been right; he was already drunk. You held your head in your hand, looking away. The chair beside you swiveled, and Kakashi's eye connected with two blue ones. 

"Ohh," Rayuu cooed mockingly, "the rumor has finally come to fruition." 

Asuma stepped in, his hands held up in front of Rayuu, "Rayuu, maybe you should leave." 

Rayuu's arm pushed Asuma aside, taking a step closer to you. You shook your head, pleading with him not to do this. He was about to make a scene, you could tell. You looked at the back of Kakashi's head, his calm demeanor like a lighthouse to you. 

"No, really," Rayuu continued, "I knew it all along. I knew it would happen. You both always had eyes for each other." 

"Nothing is going on, Rayuu," you told him, "it's not what you think."

"She doesn't owe you anything," Kurenai gestured to you, shaking her head. 

"[y/n]," Rayuu's voice softened suddenly at your acknowledgment of him, "let's go talk outside. Please?"

Your eyes widened, unable to respond suddenly. Embarrassment enveloped you. Was this really happening? Right in front of everyone? 

"I'm sorry, baby," he said to you, taking another step, "I made a mistake. Mai and I are through. I shouldn't have done what I did." 

You shook your head, disgusted. His blue eyes remained locked on you, pleading with you. He took another step, and his chest was met with a sturdy extended hand. 

"That's enough," Kakashi advised him. Rayuu turned his attention to the silver-haired Jonin, his expression melting into contempt. 

"You don't speak for her," Rayuu pointed at you, and your cheeks flushed. 

"That's right," Kakashi stood from his chair, "I don't speak for her. Something you weren't real good at." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rayuu's eyes narrowed, his lip curling. 

"Rayuu, just leave, please," you stood beside Kakashi, "It's over between us."

"No, really," he continued, looking up at Kakashi as he remained passive, staring down at him, "what do you mean by that, cold-blooded Kakashi?"

The bar had gone quiet, a lingering chatter in the corner to the few that hadn't turned their gazes to the commotion in the front of the room. The bartender gave a warning, knowing well that he would not be able to stop two shinobi from duking it out in front of him. 

"Just means she deserves better than a dirtbag like you." 

"Kakashi - I don't need y-"

Rayuu threw a left hook at Kakashi, his arm bracing in front of his mask. Before Rayuu's arm even made contact, a fist landed squarely on his jaw, throwing him into a cluster of chairs behind him. 

"Kakashi!" A hand flew to your mouth, your eyes wide as other patrons gathered around Rayuu, pulling him up to his feet. He wiped a drip of blood from his lip, trying in vain to get back to Kakashi as Asuma and the other patrons ushered him out of the bar. Your eyebrows narrowed as embarrassment bubbled within you. You grabbed Kakashi's wrist, pulling him past a shocked Kurenai and toward the bar's back hallway. 

"Why did you do that?" You asked him pointedly. Clearly, he was flustered by the interaction as well. The usual calm collected Kakashi had disappeared at that moment. "You don't need to fight for me, Kakashi. I can do it myself." 

"I know you can," he replied quietly, pushing his hair back. He avoided your eyes. 

"Then why did you do that?" You took a step closer. 

"I don't know. I-" 

You had never seen the copy-ninja lost for words in all the years of knowing him. The way he looked around the room, pushing his hair from his eyes habitually, a nervous tick he did when he felt embarrassed. Still, you pushed him.

"If you think you need to step in for me, you're just like him-"

"It's not like that," he said, his eyes meeting yours. 

"Then what is?" 

It all happened so quickly that your mind barely registered the reality that had suddenly unfolded. There was a hazy sense of his large hand grabbing your waist, pulling you against his hips as he stared down at you. Your hands landed on his chest, staring at his expression, a tender, affectionate gaze hiding behind a mask of apprehension. 

You blinked at him, taken aback, as his eyes flickered to your lips. Your face flushed, and your lips parted, a vague set of words hanging on your tongue that you couldn't find the brain power to speak. 

Whispering his name was all you could manage as the modest distance between you both began to shrink. Your ears rang loudly, heat sweeping up your spine as you felt his palm slide up your back. You couldn't breathe, you thought. You couldn't think. What was happening? Was this real?

The question hung in the air between you both, your noses brushing as his eyes clung to yours, searching for your consent. You lifted a shaking hand to his jaw, barely nodding before his mouth pressed boldly against your lips. You exhaled against him, arching your spine to conform to his body while you slid your arms around his neck. 

His body pressed against yours, feeling your back hit the wall behind you. You felt his bare lips against yours a moment later, the taste of sake on his tongue and you must have gasped. Quickly, he began pulling away, but your hands were at his cheeks, pressing his mouth back to yours desperately. 

A clatter of a glass beyond the hallway pulled you both away. You still held each other close, turning back to look at one another under the dim light of the bar hallway. What a strange place for a first kiss, you thought. It wasn't your first time seeing his face, but it was certainly your first time seeing it at this distance. Still, your heart beat wildly in your chest, a smile surfacing on your lips as you looked up at him. He smiled too. 

A hand lifted to your cheek, the side of his thumb ghosting over your skin as his tender gaze stared down at you. Rayuu had never looked at you like this. Such warmth didn't come out of nowhere, you thought. He had to have been harboring these emotions for you for some time. 

"How long have you been waiting to do that?" You whispered to him through the darkness. A smile crept on his lips. 

"Longer than you'll ever know." 

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x original character #kakashi imagine #hatake kakashi #kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #my brain visited today #I could actually write? #idk what happened but I'm so happy #probably will never happen again #rip my brain #naruto fandom #naruto fanfiction #naruto shippuden #naruto #kakashi hatake

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i've seen some other people do this, so let me share some songs that remind me of catradora.

Adora's POV:

“Her eyes and words are so icy

Oh but she burns

Like rum on the fire

Hot and fast and angry as she can be

I walk my days on a wire.”

[…]

The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine

Open hand or closed fist would be fine

Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.”

�� Cherry Wine, Hozier

•

“L-O-V-E damn 4 letters

You sugar-coat it with L-O-V-E every time

Selfish, I will never be enough

Even when I pour out all of myself for you.

[…]

As long as you love me

The good or the ugly

Everything is alright

It’s like you control me

Without you I’m lonely

But you don't feel the same.”

— Gunshot, KARD

•

“You said it was true love, but wouldn't that be hard?

You can't love anyone cause that would mean you had a heart

I tried you help you out, now I know that I can't

Cause how you think's the kind of thing I'll never understand.

[…]

I used to think I was smart

But you've made me look so naive

The way you sold me for parts

As you sunk your teeth into me.”

— Vampire, Olivia Rodrigo

•

“You only think of yourself

As if that’s natural

I’ve been foolish enough to try to please you

It tortures me, keeping me lonely till the end.

[…]

I have to adjust to you

Every time, that’s okay

It repeats like this every day

If you're taking advantage of my kindness

There's something wrong with that.”

— Egotistic, MAMAMOO

•

“The stars, the moon

They have all been blown out

You've left me in the dark

No dawn, no day

I'm always in this twilight

In the shadow of your heart

[…]

I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map

And knew that somehow I could find my way back

Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too

So I stayed in the darkness with you.”

— Cosmic Love, Florence + The Machine

•

“Hey girl, wake up

There are better people out there

But even though he acts like that

There's still some good in him.

[…]

So foolish, I'm being manipulated

So stupid, should I break up or…?

This is the end, yes, bye bye

I want to say it but I can't

I'm frustrated but I'm stuck on you

I'm still into you.”

— TRAP, AAA (Misako & Chiaki)

(just replace “he” with “she”)

•

“I can’t stop, I found you

But feels like I’m the only one who feels this way, it makes me mad

I don’t understand

But hurting this much? I’m used to it

[…]

Don’t pity me, no, do as you always did

Because that’s you

Even if you break my heart

And spit out careless words

It’s only you for me.

[…]

I don’t want to be obvious

What if you think I’m weak?

I’m so pathetic, pathetic.”

— Love & Hate / Worthless, Moon Byul

•

“If it was for you I could

Pretend to be happy even when I was sad

If it was for you I could

Pretend to be strong even when I was hurting

[…]

Love you so bad

I molded a pretty lie for you

Love it's so mad

Try to erase myself and make me your doll.”

— Fake Love, BTS

•

“I’m falling endlessly

And you’re playing with me

You got me losing my mind, you intruder

It’s so dangerous I want it

Even if it costs all the pain.

[…]

Oh god, why are you leading me into temptation? Is it a call from hell?

Can’t stop, how am I going to escape from her?

The self-control you gave me has torn in pieces in the dark black hole

Can’t control myself, it’s like sugarcoated poison.”

— Oh My God, (G)I-DLE

•

“My sensitivity making me tense

Your honesty stabbing my heart

Why does this only apply to me? It’s too unfair

[…]

I’m not easy I hate that

I adjusted to you

I loved you more than me.”

— Easy, Wheein

Catra's POV:

“I'm breaking every rule

I want to keep tormenting you

[…]

Hate me as you want, I don't care

The more you break, the more you'll want me.

[…]

I swear I need you, my desires are growing

I’m playing with you like a kid

Hovering like your shadow and whispering to you

I’m your light and your darkness.”

— 28 Reasons, Kang Seulgi

•

“I don't want none, I just want you

If I can't have you, no one should

[…]

I might kill my ex, I still love him though

Rather be in hell than alone.

[…]

Now I'm in the basement, planning home invasion

Now you laying face-down, got me singing over a beat.”

— Kill Bill, SZA

•

“I’m creepin’ in your heart, babe

I’ll flip you over, break you down and swallow you up

I’ll steal you and indulge in you

I’m gonna mess you up

[…]

I’m a bit impatient

I’m not that gentle (I hated you)

But I want you

That’s right, my type

My heart doesn’t lie.”

— Monster, EXO

•

“You fuel my jealousy

Growing everyday

Following your shadow

I’m with you, in every breath you take.

[…]

Call me evil

I'll show you more

I get what I want,

but I can't get enough.”

— Propose, Dreamcatcher

#there are a lot more but i don't want this post to be an entire essay lmao #HIGHLY RECOMMEND all of these songs btw go check them out! #also yes i listen to kpop a lot #spop critical #spop #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti catradora #anti catra #anti c//a #anti spop #antic//a #anticatra #anticatradora #songs

[edensrose]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕but in after days he rose like a shadow of morgoth and a ghost of his malice, and walked behind him on the same ruinous path down into the void.

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ he can't help it, you're just so pretty to look at ꒷꒦ imagine  ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ he just so happens to walk in on you crying ꒷꒦ imagine ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧◞ꕥ 

꒰ oh does he love and hate it that you're just as cocky as him ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬◞ꕥ 

꒰ you decide to play the 'I want a baby prank' on him ꒷꒦ texts ꒷꒦ ft. valar ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ how the dark lord kisses you ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶?◞ꕥ 

꒰ the last thing annatar expects is for you to recognise him ꒷꒦ drabble ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘯𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴?◞ꕥ 

꒰ you adore messing with him, so you decide to dodge his kisses ꒷꒦ imagine ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯◞ꕥ 

꒰ he really tries not to, alas he can't help but get a bit jealous ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft.ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ every once in awhile, mairon enjoys spoiling his lover with a date ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. melkor ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ mairon finds himself fascinated with his s/o's modern world ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft.mairon ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ mairon learns how to act around a s/o who stutters ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦?◞ꕥ 

꒰ he knows it's silly, but he can't help to see green with your ex around ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶◞ꕥ 

꒰ mairon with a s/o who has sa trauma ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ he's so comfortable, how could you not fall asleep on his lap? ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘯𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰surprisingly enough, mairon is quite the cuddler ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘵◞ꕥ 

꒰ you gift him the news of your successful pregnancy ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. valar ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘯𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ angband was always typically cold thanks to melkor's presence. the least he could do was compensate for the iciness you have to deal with  ꒷꒦ 1k follower event ꒷꒦ 0.8k ꒷꒦ ft. melkor ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ what if the dark lord had a daughter? ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘰𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ the dark lord is, indeed, capable of being soft with his s/o  ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 ◞ꕥ 

꒰ it's something that he has always feared, losing you ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ throughout your eons before and during arda, you found yourself in a friendship between two particular maiar. but what happens when you find yourself falling for one — and then the other? ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. eonwe ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧◞ꕥ 

꒰ you were the lover of mairon, one of the most precious things in his life. how did his love become his only weakness ꒷꒦ 1k follower event ꒷꒦ 1.5k ꒷꒦ ft. melkor ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ accidents happen, unfortunately, this is not something that the dark lords can ever fix ꒷꒦ ft. melkor ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯◞ꕥ 

꒰ long have you lost mairon to darkness, yet when you meet him again on the battlefield - your heart still yearns for him ꒷꒦ drabble ꒷꒦ backstory ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳?◞ꕥ 

꒰ mairon lost his physical form during the war of wrath and has had his fëa trapped in limbo for centuries. all until an unnamed maia performs a ritual to summon him in such a way that mairon has control over this new form — only to find out that you have moved on ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦  ft. eonwe ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯?◞ꕥ 

꒰ you decide to surprise your lover by asking him to join you in the shower ꒷꒦ imagine ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ surely your beloved wouldn't mind a few dirty texts while he's a work, right? ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱?◞ꕥ 

꒰ he just so happens to stumble in on you touching yourself. . . and decides to watch ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳◞ꕥ 

꒰ it was supposed to be a simple visit to your lover whilst he worked. the last thing you expected was to be the item which he worked on ꒷꒦ 1.1k ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ he couldn't help it, when you're riding him like that how could he not fill you up? ꒷꒦ drabble ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰ he's obsessed with you, and now you're pregnant with his child ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ yandere!mairon ꒷꒦ ft. melkor ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳◞ꕥ 

꒰ mairon finds out that you aren’t as innocent as you let on to be, you have a particular love for elven flesh ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 &  𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ yandere alphabet with mairon ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ part 2 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ 

꒰ seems like the conniving strategists of one of the most renowned mercenary syndicates in arda takes an interest in you ꒷꒦ dark!mairon ꒷꒦ multiwork ꒷꒦ ft. ainur ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴◞ꕥ 

꒰ perhaps you should have felt honoured that the dark lord saw potential in you, yet sometimes it felt like a crushing curse. but what can you do? other than let him pull the strings as he always does ꒷꒦ 2.1k ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

˚◞❀˳ 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦◞ꕥ 

꒰after being captured along with your lover, you had the unfortunate twist of fate by catching mairon’s eye ꒷꒦ headcanons ꒷꒦ ft. maedhros ꒱ ₊˚⊹ 

#˚◞❀˳ 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 ﹕ mairon masterlist ꒱ ₊˚⊹ #tolkien #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien x reader #mairon #mairon x reader #sauron #sauron x reader #x reader #reader insert #writing

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Burn The Ships (1/5)

THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.

NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL COVER ART BY @snowbellewells

AO3 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Summary: Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.

Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.

Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it.

@anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @pirateswhore, @stahlopp, @teamhook, @tiganasummertreee, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

Author Note: This little fic is a birthday gift for the always encouraging and absolutely wonderful @kmomof4. I was initially drawn to Moonlight Sonata because it is also one of my favourites and the story behind the song felt like Killian meeting Emma for the first time. (I also love Für Elise but it doesn’t make me think of CS as much as Snowing and I cannot really explain that.) Then, I thought “oooh, CS PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!” for about thirty seconds before realising that maybe I did not want to take that on while I was trying to finish up Witchy Woman and plotting the CS Miraculous Fic and that one Bridgerton-based CS Fic. But, then, I listened to Burn the Ships and read about the inspiration behind those lyrics and absolutely knew that was the one. What is more Captain Swain than battling demons (internal and external) and enduring together? Anywhoosies, HAPPY BIRTHDAY (this month)!! Thank you so much for all the flails, the sanity checking, the gifs, the cheerleading, and for just generally being one of the brightest lights in all of our lives. (Edit: atge birthday is on the 15th, I know. This whole thing happened where this was a two-parter and now it is a whole long thing and the posting schedule SHOULD work out so the whole thing is done by the 15th.)

Emma woke to the harsh sunlight infiltrating the discoloured curtains hanging limply over the large window her lumpy mattress had been pushed against. This was the worst part of her day - these moments in which the lie of her dreams, even the worst of them, gave way to the nightmarish truth of her reality. She fought against the dread seeping into her heart and tried to hold on to the last remnants of her dream, but it faded away as the scarred wardrobe came into clearer focus before her.

Despair, however, was less easily shaken. That endless emptiness accompanied her as she started toward the water basin to splash cold water on her face. Her gaze lifted to meet the empty emerald eyes she knew would stare back at her. She had watched helplessly as the hope drained from them, over the last several months, taking with it the anger and defiance that once glimmered behind them.

Fantasies, like hope, were for those with people or a pack, who cared. Lone wolves, orphaned at birth and betrayed to the monster who ruled this island by their shitty ex-fiancées, weren’t missed. And without any to notice your absence, who would know to rescue you?

“Cheer up,” a cheerful boyish voice chirped from behind her. She jumped and spun around - having your back to the demon was never a good idea. Pan was there, in the middle of the dreary room, looking at her with a dark sort of crazed humour dancing behind his eyes. That look meant he had a new twisted game to play. Her stomach fell and icy fear gripped her heart - losing came at a high price in Neverland and she always lost.

“As you doubtlessly know, the moon will be full tonight.” Pan paused and waited for her to respond. As if any wolf would be oblivious to the phases of the moon, she buried her annoyance at the patronising question and nodded for him to continue. “Tonight, I am letting you out of the garden. You’ll get to run the length of the island.”

Emma knew there was a catch, but after spending several transformations pacing the tiny gated garden, the prospect of running had her heart racing with excitement.

“As you lead us in tonight’s hunt.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. She was going to die tonight.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

“OOOHHHH, CAPTAIN!” A sing-song voice called from somewhere high on the main mast.

“Pan, to what do we owe this unexpected visit?” Hook called back genially. He swept his arms out wide, in a welcoming gesture, discretely sliding the small vial into a hidden pocket of his coat.

Pan flew lower, hovering just above head height, forcing Killian to look up at him. A sweet scent filled the air between, something soft and warm. Killian couldn’t hear Pan's next words as the wolf within tried to locate the source of the scent. With the change coming so soon, Killian knew he would struggle to fight the impulses of the wolf. He had to get away from this enchanting distraction before Pan noticed his attention was elsewhere.

“Let’s discuss whatever business you have away from listening ears.” Hook gestured toward the ladder leading to his quarters, hoping the breeze would not penetrate the boards.

“As you well know, the hunt will be tonight. I do hope you and your crew will attend.” Pan started, as Killian filled a glass with rum in an effort to steady himself. The room around him was saturated with the warm - Vanilla? No, not quite. What is the point of being a bloody wolf if I can’t determine a bleeding smell? - scent. Could a scent be alluring and inviting? Because Killian felt an inexplicable sense of contentedness, something cosy he was drawn to like the heat of a fire, that seemed directly related to the sudden arrival of the scent. Was this possibly a new torture device derived from this cruel realm?

"What do you say, Captain?" Pan sneered, the last word sounding as an insult rather than a well-earned title.

"I'll not be joining your pack of savage, cruel beasts as they set out to torment an innocent you have captured for a barbaric ritual of bloodlust and cruelty."

"We're all wolves, Hook," Pan responded. "You can keep to your ridiculous code, acting as though you are a gentleman despite the tasks you perform in your service to me. But, you cannot deny that the same blood-thirsty animal lives under your skin. One day, you'll relish letting the darkness play alongside my pack. We're the same at the heart of it."

"I am nothi…"

"Ah, ah, Captain, you wouldn't want to say anything regretful, now, would you?" Pan smiled his cruelest smile and Killian swallowed down his annoyance. The last time Killian had crossed Pan still hurt as fresh as the night Pan’s pack had stolen Milah’s pup from his ship. Killian heard Bae’s weak howls from the depths of the Mermaid Lagoon and raced toward his ship as quickly as possible in the dense jungle. When his paws landed with heavy thuds on the wooden gangway, the overly sweet, coppery smell of blood filled the air - air that was notably barren of any of the sounds or scents that had made the Jolly Roger home. Without even a single survivor to share the burden of grief and burial, laying his sailors to rest had taken days - purging the Jolly of all evidence of the massacre had taken much longer.

“Aye,” Killian growled out.

“Good, lad.” Pan evaporated, leaving him alone in his cabin. The sweet scent that had entranced him moments before faded away. Realisation dawning, Killian swore but did nothing to soothe the sudden rage burning hot through him.

The bloody demon had his mate.

#a gift for kmomof4 #Emma x Killian #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Swan #killian x emma #ouat captain hook #cs fanfic #ouat #ouat fanfic #cs ff #fic by Jas #inspired by songs #inspired by Burn the Ships #werewolves #some horror elements #some hurt/comfort