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sinner-as-saint · 2 months

Text

stuck with you

Bucky x Reader au

Run-through: Alone, cold, and stranded in the middle of a small town on top of a mountain. Not the most ideal situation to be in when the weather starts getting bad. No motels or inns have room for you so the locals suggest you reach out to a man named Bucky Barnes for shelter. Apparently, Bucky is known to always help stranded people, or lost hikers. No matter how weird it feels to drive up to a stranger’s house and ask for help, you have on other choice but to do just that. The plan was simple: stay with the strange, kind man for a couple of days until the snowstorm passes. But then you meet him and you find yourself unable to stick to the plan.

Themes: age gap (reader is in her twenties, Bucky is in his early forties), strangers-to-lovers ish, smut, slight degrading kink, fluff

It felt like the start of a horror movie.

Unknown town, unknown people. You cursed yourself as you walked out of yet another motel who had no room left for you.

What the hell were you thinking? After uni, you thought travelling the world on your own would help you with learning the right lessons, having the right experiences, and all that before you joined the family business and began working with your parents for the rest of your life.

Instead of having fun though, here you were. Stuck on top of an icy mountain, in a small town, and nowhere to sleep for the night. With the snowstorm approaching, you had to find shelter quickly. But none of these motels or inns were free. Every hiker, skier, and tourist had already booked ahead of you apparently.

“Uh, miss?” A voice called from behind you right as you were about to step outside into the cold evening.

You turned to look and it was the owner of the motel. The same man who had just turned you down because he had no space left to accommodate you. He looked apologetic as he approached you.

“Hi.” You said, then patted your pockets quickly, “Did I forget anything on the counter?”

“No.” The man smiled and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry you can’t stay. But snowstorms in this area can be dangerous and deadly, and you wouldn’t survive the night if you slept in your car.” He pointed at the rented jeep you had parked right outside the motel. “But there’s a man who can help. His name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes. He often helps out stranded hikers and stuff, and I already called him and asked if he had room and he said yes.”

The motel owner proceeded to give you details about Bucky and how to get to his house. From what you’d just learnt, Bucky Barnes was a business mogul who preferred seclusion. He was wealthy, and lived alone in his luxurious cabin that, rumour has it, he built himself. He was in his early forties and had people running his businesses for him all over the world. He moved to this small town after living in lavish cities his entire life. He owned acres upon acres of land, so he was also the local lumberjack and spent his time manually taking down trees whenever anyone needed wood.

“Don’t worry, miss,” The motel owner reassured you, with a kind smile. “Mr. Barnes is a nice guy. Everyone around here knows him. Just follow the directions I gave you and you’ll find his house not too far from here. It’s a wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest.”

When you got back in your car, the first thing you did was google the man really quickly. And the headlines, as you scrolled and read them, made your eyes widen a little each time. They were all basically just about what the motel owner already told you. But you needed to make sure it was all real.

It was. Bucky Barnes was indeed a filthy rich business mogul who chose to come live all the way up here to get away from busy cities and journalists who always followed him around for quotes to put into their articles.

And then, you began searching for pictures of this man. Your heart skipped a beat upon finding them. Pictures of him at fancy dinner parties, galas, charity events. Pictures of him shaking hands and clinking glasses with famous faces. Pictures of him on business magazine covers.

Pretty blue eyes, handsome face, and a kind smile. You noted the crinkles by his eyes whenever he smiled or laughed in pictures. Whenever he was photographed with a group of people, everyone seemed charmed by him. He seemed tall too. Oh well, safe to say the man was drop dead gorgeous.

What if he was a serial killer and the people in this town directed victims to his house like he was some kind of twisted leader of this town?

You cringed at the exaggerated thought, shaking your head.

Usually you weren’t one to trust strangers quickly but it was getting darker, the wind was beginning to howl and the cold was making you shiver even beneath all the layers you were wearing. The snowstorm was expected to last at least three days, so it was either trust a stranger for a few days or die.

—

You stopped your car in front of what the motel owner called a ‘wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest’. And he was right.

The luxurious log home was situated higher up on the mountain, looking over the small town. Surrounded by towering trees, mainly pine, and the area around the house was foggier than the rest of the town. It would’ve seemed eerie if it weren’t for the warm, golden lights coming from inside the house.

The house was indeed massive, with intricate carvings on the huge front doors. The roof was covered with dark, polished slate, and what gave the home a more contemporary touch were the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. It looked like the perfect place for someone who sought seclusion and comfort.

Or a murderer, your brain added. You hissed at the thought, shoving it away as you got out of your jeep. It was beginning to drizzle, the wind howling louder than earlier. You walked up the front porch and knocked on the large doors.

Before you could check out the porch, you heard loud footsteps approaching. Then, the front door opened. And on the other side stood a handsome man, slightly different from how he looked in the photographs you’d found online, but just as gorgeous. Well, the photographs were all taken from years ago so it made sense that he looked different. Bucky Barnes hadn’t been photographed ever since he moved here, according to the articles, and it was a shame because he was truly a work of art.

“Hey,” He said with a deep, confident voice. “You must be the girl I just received a call about from the motel.” He opened the door wider. And for a couple of seconds, you didn’t move.

You were frozen in place. He was… too pretty. That same handsome face as in the photographs, except he had more facial hair now. And longer hair. So long in fact that he had to put it all up in a messy bun on top of his head. A few strands escaped the bun and fell on either side of his face, making him look beautiful in a rugged way.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander for just a second. He was just as tall as you imagine, but slightly more muscular than he seemed in the pictures. The white t-shirt he was wearing clung to him like a second skin, the jeans clung to his thighs in a way that should be illegal.

You quickly looked up and cleared your throat before you got caught ogling. “Um, hi Mr. Barnes. I’m sorry for–,”

He cut you off politely, “There’s no need to apologise,” He signalled for you to come in. And as you walked into his home he said, “And please, call me Bucky.”

You smiled at him as you stood near the entrance, waiting for him to shut the door. When he turned to you, he asked for your name and asked what you were doing here. While you answered, he led you further into the magnificent house.

If you thought it was beautiful from the outside, the interior was absolutely breathtaking. Spacious, with high ceilings. Most things inside were wooden, except for the rugs and the plush sofas. It was an open concept, and you could see the more farm-style kitchen from the living room area and it was just as pretty as the rest of the house. The more you looked around, the more you fell in love with the interior. Elegant curved staircase which led upstairs, massive fireplace, accents of stone and metals everywhere. It looked like a lot of thought went into building this home.

“This looks like a dream.” You commented, standing in the middle of the living room and taking it all in. The owner looks like a dream too. You sighed at the sound of your inner thoughts. It was true.

Bucky smiled, looking proud. “It took some years to build but…” He sighed, “It’s worth it.”

You smiled at him, noticing the crinkles by his eyes as he smiled. Fuck, this man was beautiful.

“Give me your keys, I’ll bring your bags in, then I can show you to your room.” He extended his hand out, waiting for you to drop your keys into his palm.

“Oh.” Your face got all hot when you realised you’d just walked into his home empty handed. You’d forgotten your bags in the jeep. “I can go get it, it’s–,”

“No, I’ll get it,” He cut you off again, stepped closer and took the keys from your hand. “It’s getting bad out there.” Then he walked away.

And you shamelessly watched him leave. His back muscles moved and shifted under the tight shirt as he walked and you felt a shiver travel down your spine. Think about how those warm, hard muscles would feel under your fingertips…

Shit. This man was being kind to you and here you were being a pervert.

–

Bucky brought your bags in, all four of them. Carried them through the front door like they weren’t heavy at all. Well, he cuts down trees for fun so maybe he’s used to carrying heavier things.

He showed you to one of the many guest bedrooms he had. And the room was just as beautiful and perfect as the rest of the home. King-sized bed, large chest drawer, private bathroom which was fully stocked with toiletries. Large windows, and a small balcony which overlooked the dense forest outside.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. See you downstairs.” He left with yet another smile which made your heart skip a beat.

–

You found yourself making your way downstairs after a long, warm shower. You wanted to unpack after your shower but then the smell of dinner cooking forced you out of the room. You followed the delicious scent of what seemed like pasta sauce, sniffing the air quietly until you made your way into the gorgeous kitchen. With an even more gorgeous man in it.

“There you are,” Bucky smiled at you as you approached the large kitchen island which was also the dining table. “Everything okay with your room?” He asked, stirring some kind of sauce in a pan before resuming chopping some other thing. He looked so comfortable in his kitchen, it was endearing.

“Yeah, everything’s good.” You answered, lingering by the kitchen counter awkwardly, “You need help with something?”

“Sure, if you want.” Bucky nodded and pointed at the other side of the kitchen with his knife, and said, “Can you be a doll and grab us a red wine from the cellar?”

You froze for a quick second at the sound of ‘doll’. It was sweet, but the way it sounded from his deep, smooth voice… you cleared your throat again before your thoughts got inappropriate, turning around and heading for the cellar because of course he had a wine cellar.

After grabbing what you hoped was a nice wine, you made your way back to the kitchen and found Bucky plating pasta into two plates. He had a slight frown on his face as he focused on the plates. If there was anything you had noticed about Bucky it was that he was very detail oriented.

Bucky’s frown disappeared the moment he looked up from the plates and saw you standing there. “Hope you like pasta and cheese.” He winked with a maddeningly handsome smile.

“I do.” You smiled back, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you handed him the wax sealed bottle of wine. For a brief moment, his hand brushed against yours and you could’ve sworn it felt like you’d been electrocuted.

A strange shiver danced down your spine as you took a seat at the table and watched Bucky break the seal, uncork the bottle and pour it into two glasses before pouring the rest into a large decanter.

All that wood chopping did him good. The man was muscular in all the right places. But his hands… oh his hands. Large, veiny. Imagine those hands all over–

“So, tell me about yourself.” He said, taking a seat across from you. “And what are you doing on this icy mountain?”

The conversation flowed perfectly. You told Bucky about how you were travelling to all the places you wanted to see before you moved back home, and he told you all about his life here. He said he liked the peace and quiet. Even the snowstorms, he grew to love them.

By the time your plates and the decanter were empty, the two of you were laughing and exchanging life stories like you were old friends catching up.

“So wait,” You chuckled, “You built this entire place out of spite?”

Bucky nodded, laughing as well. “Well, I guess. My friend Sam came to visit when I told him I bought some land out here and he said ‘Well what are you gonna do here, Buck? You can’t just build a house in the middle of nowhere and become a lumberjack providing wood to the locals.’ and I thought, ‘Wait, that’s not a bad idea’, then I did exactly what Sam said.”

You laughed, the wine made everything funnier. Bucky’s cheeks were now pink, his lips stained due to the wine and you couldn’t look away from him. Fuck, he really was gorgeous. He must have changed before dinner because he was no longer wearing that tight white shirt. He was wearing loose, beige coloured loungewear and looked just as mouth-watering. His hair was just as messy, but made him look effortlessly handsome.

You eye-fucked him so more before realising that he was checking you out too, and neither of you had said a word for the past minute or two. But it wasn’t awkward. His blue eyes stared into yours and you were suddenly too aware of the thick tension in the air.

The way he licked his lips, the way he toyed with the stem of his wine glass, the way his hand–

Bucky cleared his throat and looked away first. You tried to blink away the tension too but it remained. Then Bucky asked, “So, you have a boyfriend or something waiting for you at home?” He gave you a playful smirk.

Oh?

You shook your head, “Nope. What about you? You came all the way here to live in seclusion, are you running from an ex or something?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that.”

That tension came back again, filling the air like smoke. You couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he, given how he fidgeted in his seat.

This is wrong. Isn’t it?

He was being kind enough to offer you shelter and you were being inappropriate. So before you did something you might regret, you said, “It’s late. I should head to bed. I drove all day and…” You trailed off, looking away and avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He said quickly, getting up from his seat. He went to reach for your plate but you grabbed it first.

“Oh I’ll load up the dishwasher, don’t worry.” You moved before he could stop you, grabbing your plate and then his. Then the wine glasses and everything else.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you carefully arranged everything in the rack before turning it on. You washed your hands, and wiped it on a tea towel while turning to leave but Bucky’s heated stare stopped you.

There he was, leaning against the kitchen island and looking even more yummy than the dinner he made. You were glad you had the tea towel in your hands otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do.

Luckily Bucky spoke up first, “If I had known you were coming I would’ve made dessert.”

Such a simple sentence yet it sounded like he’d whispered some dirty, filthy secret in your ear the way your body came alive. You refrained from clenching your thighs together. His voice was lower, deeper but just as smooth and it was driving you crazy just imagining how this man must sound in bed.

And now you were jealous of all the people who had had the chance of hearing what he sounded like, moaning and grunting, whispering out of breath… fuck.

“Uh…” You struggled to find your words, now that the image of him naked in bed wouldn’t leave your head, “That’s alright. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth anyway.”

You didn’t know when you moved, but you found yourself standing closer to Bucky now. He turned to face you completely and there were mere inches between your bodies. You felt… hot. Maybe it was the wine, but you were almost certain it was because of the way Bucky looked at you. Like he’d devour you if he could. You had sensed tension between you and other people before, but it had never been this strong.

“Shame,” He muttered under his breath, his hand coming up to gently touch your face. “I happen to like something sweet before bed.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

All you could focus on was the way he was touching your face. Gently, like you were made of glass. His hand was warm, but rough. You let out a shaky breath as you wondered how his rough hands would feel all over you–

“Go to bed.” He said in a voice that made you tingle all over. He didn’t let go of your face. His thumb caressing your cheek, and his eyes staring into your soul.

You blinked, wondering if you misheard. “What?” You asked softly, leaning into his touch subtly, obviously not wanting to move.

“Go to bed, doll.” He repeated, still not letting go of your face.

You frowned slightly, “But–,”

He cut you off by placing a gentle finger over your lips. His eyes couldn’t look away from where his finger touched your mouth. He leaned in a little, then said, “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” You asked, lips brushing against his finger as you spoke.

He gave you a soft smile and said, “I should be a good host, not seduce you.”

You shrugged, “Well I’m nice and seduced, now what do we do?”

He chuckled, leaning in until his nose brushed against the side of your neck. His simple touches were driving you crazy.

“You know what happens when there’s a snowstorm in this town, doll? It lasts for days,” He whispered, lazily kissing your neck. “And by the time that’s over, the roads are completely blocked. And this is a small town so it takes a while before the roads are functional again.”

Your heart fluttered, your body felt too hot and yet you shivered. You gently pulled away to look at him. “So you’re saying I’m stuck with you here for days?” You couldn’t help the smirk on your face.

He caught the hopeful tone in your voice. Bucky nodded. “And if I touch you right now,” He whispered, cupping your face in his large, rough hands, “I’m not sure I’ll let you leave my bed at all for the next coming days.”

It was risky because as beautiful as he was, you didn’t know Bucky. But you had never wanted someone this much before. This felt like a new kind of longing and need. You didn’t care what was right, ethical, or risky. “Then don’t.”

That did it.

Bucky stopped thinking why he shouldn’t and instead pressed his lips to yours, kissing you like he was tasting his favourite dessert. His tongue easing your own as he tasted you leisurely. “We’re sure about this?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Yes,” You whispered against his mouth, gasping as his hands trailed up and down your body, sliding under your sweater and fondling your breasts. “We are.”

Bucky smiled into the kiss, then spoke again. “Aren’t I too old for you, doll?”

You chuckled, your own hands wandering and sliding up and down his muscular back. You wanted nothing more than to just take off that comfy hoodie he was wearing. “Oh, what’s a decade or two?” You murmured.

Bucky’s hands dropped down to your waist, caressing your skin, fingers threatening to slip past the waistband of your sweatpants. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. The storm was picking up outside and it would surely drown out all your cries, not that there were any neighbours to hear to begin with.

“Will you be good for me?” He whispered, kissing down your face as his fingers slowly dipped into your sweatpants. One hand held you at the waist while the other inched dangerously close to where you craved him the most.

His touch, his words, it was all too much. “I’ll be good,” You replied, your hands sliding under his hoodie to finally touch him, exploring and curious. His body was incredible to the touch, hard muscles and warm skin.

He finally slipped his hand into your underwear, hissing as he found you dripping wet. He chuckled against your skin as he kissed and licked your throat, “How long have you been this wet, doll?” He asked, sounding cocky.

You gasped when you felt him sliding a finger inside you, gently. “Since you opened the front door.” You answered honestly.

Bucky laughed, his warm breath tickling your ear. “That long, huh? I’m sorry.” He cooed, “Let me take care of it for you.”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth when you felt him slide another finger inside you, fucking you slowly with both now. Bucky kissed your neck, your face, your mouth. Licking and biting your skin as he pleased while he finger-fucked you until you were right on the edge.

“Get up here.” He murmured, pulling his fingers and hand away and pointed at the kitchen island.

You didn’t move immediately. Probably because your brain was all foggy from his kisses and his touch that it took a second for you to register and process his words.

Bucky smirked and repeated. “Come on. Take your clothes off and get up here.”

You did as he asked. Taking off your sweater and sweatpants, followed by your underwear and revealing your bare body. Bucky took a second, letting his fingers trail up and down your stomach and chest before he pointed at the island again.

“Up.”

You hopped on the edge with a giggle, hissing upon feeling the cold surface against your warm skin. Once sat on the edge, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. Bucky smiled as he placed his hands on you again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you stared into his ocean blue eyes.

“Such a pretty doll,” He whispered, placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them further apart. He looked down at your wet folds, mindlessly dragging a finger up and down your slit, making you shiver all over again. “Now, lie down.” He said.

You wasted no time. You unwrapped your arms from around him and carefully laid down flat on your back, hissing at the cold again.

Bucky’s eyes trailed up and down your body, his hands caressing your skin. From your thighs, to your hips, to your breasts where he pinched your nipples, making you cry out again.

“Can I taste you, doll?” He asked, pulling your legs up to the edge and spreading your thighs as far apart as they would go. The island was high enough where he only had to bend down for his mouth to touch your heated skin. Lips brushing against your lower abdomen, he asked again, “Can I?”

Your brain was a mess. Yet you managed to mumble a firm, “Yes…”

With his mouth mere inches away from your throbbing clit, he said, “Keep your legs up just like that for me, okay?”

You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your wetness. He looked up immediately, holding your stare as he slid his tongue against, the roughness of his beard against your softness was driving you insane.

You held yourself up on your elbows as you watched him eat you out. The warmth of his mouth, the slow caress of his hands against your inner thighs, the intense look in his eyes as he tasted you. It made you feel like you were floating.

It was too much, it was not enough. You wanted him, you wanted more.

“You taste sweeter than any dessert, doll.” He whispered, kissing around your wet clit before sucking on it hard enough to make you come, your back arched off the surface, riding his face as you cried out in pleasure. “But it’s not enough.” He admitted, pulling away and kissing his way up your body. “Is it?”

You barely caught your breath, your heart racing as you laid there in front of him.

“Get down, and bend over for me.” He spoke in that enchanting voice of his which put you under his spell so easily.

You moved immediately this time. He was still fully dressed and you didn’t have a single article of clothing on and somehow that made you feel hotter.

You bent over the island in front of him, your front pressed against the edge. You placed your hands down and turned to look at him over your shoulder. You watched how he grabbed your hips and spread your legs, leaning closer to kiss up your spine.

“So beautiful,” He whispered against the back of your neck. “Now, are you gonna let me fuck you? Hmm? Are you gonna let me put both of us out of our misery, doll?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He pulled his hands away from you for a moment, lowering his trousers enough to free his cock. You wished you could see it properly. You wished you could kneel down in front of him and take him into your mouth and–

You gasped out loud when you felt the tip of his hard, warm cock pressing against you. Nothing mattered in that moment, not when he was gently rubbing his cock up and down your wet slit, parting your folds.

You squirmed against the hard surface under you, pushing back into him in need. “Please…” You whispered, desperate for him. You had never been this needy for a man before.

You braced yourself for his thrust, knowing it was coming.

Slowly, Bucky slid inside you, filling you up and stretching you out as he did. He let out a sigh of pleasure once he was seated deep inside you, gripping on your hips tightly as he gave you both a moment to get used to it.

You felt so full, like you’ve never been before. So full, you could barely form a coherent thought. All you knew was you wanted more.

You let out a quiet moan as he started fucking you gently.

“You feel so fucking good,” He hissed, “So warm and tight for me.” Bucky whispered, fucking into you with a pace that made you want to scream and shout because it felt so good.

Each time he filled you up, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot and you moaned as your walls clenched around him.

“Poor little doll,” He cooed, “This will be your new routine for the next few days now. Just getting fucked, and caressed all the time while the storm rages on outside.”

His thrusts got harder. Your moans got louder. His words made you clench around him even more.

“Look at you,” He growled. “Pretty girl letting a older man she barely knows fuck her like she’s a needy little whore.” His voice was deeper, and as menacing as his words were his touch was just as soft and careful. His fingers circled your clit gently while he pounded into you from behind. “Would you bend over for any man, doll? Hmm? Whoever offered you shelter from the storm, is this how you’d repay him? By letting him fuck your needy little cunt?”

You couldn’t help but cry out, moaning in pleasure as his words took you higher. You did have a little bit of a degrading kink, who didn’t? But never had anyone ever hit the spot like Bucky did. And given how your wetness dripped down his fingers, he could tell.

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Does that turn you on, doll? Knowing that I can selfishly take from you now that you’re stuck here with me?” His other hand came up to grab you by the back of your neck as he whispered into your ear, fucking into you hard enough that your body slammed into the kitchen island with each thrust. “Does it turn you on knowing you’ll have to be my little slut for the next few days? That you’ll have to spread those legs for me and let me fuck you whenever I want to?”

“Yes…” You whimpered as he pounded deeper into you. You didn’t want him to stop. Ever.

He hissed into your ear, “Is that what you are now? My little slut?” He chuckled, rolling his hips in a way that had you whimpering and squirming in pleasure beneath him. “Well, what a perfect way of repaying me for my kindness, hmm?”

“Please, Bucky…” You whimpered.

Bucky hummed, kissing your warm skin, “I know, pretty girl. I know, it feels good, doesn’t it?”

His words made you feel feverish, and wild. Lust-drunk more than ever. You moaned as he sped up again, a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in between your hips.

You whined, “I’m gonna come.” You cried, and you were pretty sure you had tears streaming down your face.

“Come for me, then. Come all over my cock, doll.”

Your brain was a foggy mess after that. You came hard though, clenching around him violently as you did.

“Fuck… look at you,” He whispered, his cock pounding harder into you until he came as well, spilling all over your lower back as he panted in exhaustion. “You okay, doll?”

You nodded slowly, pressing your forehead down against the cool surface and catching your breath.

“Come on,” His voice was softer now as he pulled you up and held you against him. Your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling your neck and leaving soft kisses all over your neck and the side of your face. “Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You asked in a shaky voice, “And then can we fuck again?”

Bucky chuckled, hugging you tightly before saying, “Yes we can, pretty girl.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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dinogoofymutated · 17 days

Note

ik you just wrote for Kurt but if I could request some sfw headcanons for him? 👉🏽👈🏽 he'd be such a cuddly man especially with that tail of his

Sfw! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

YES OFC!!! I was just thinking about this !! With how cuddly he was in the latest episode it had me all giddy and shit AAUGHH!! THIS MAN!!!

I also may or may not have gotten carried away with the fic half of this because I'm actually in love with him.

-Ps- @bl1ngringz You sent an ask for more Kurt, and I'm working on more but I figured I'd tag you in this one!

TWs: none that I can think of atm.

Touch is 100% one of Kurt’s love languages. If you're close to him, he's going to be touching you in one way or another

He really likes to wrap his tail around your waist to pull you closer to him, and it's always surprising because how is his tail that strong?? The sensation of his tail being wrapped around you in one shape or form starts to become such a comforting sensation.

If you're anxious and picking and your fingers in a social situation, he'll take hold of your hand and press a kiss to your palm, and if you're less comfortable with pda, he'll snake his tail in between your hands instead. Afterwards he always checks your hands and cuticles, just in case.

Sometimes he'll have really rough days and will just really need you to hold him. He'll teleport you out of your office if he feels like you've been gone too long and he starts to worry about you. It's surprising at first, but you quickly get over it when the furball snuggles into you, quietly pouting about how long you've been gone. It's easy to tell other things are on his mind, but you know he enjoys the silence when you choose not to press him, and simply hold him tightly.

Kurt isn't just a cuddle bug. He's a cuddle MONSTER. On the couch? He'll plop down on top of you, falling asleep on you like a cat who only ever manages to fall asleep right when you need to pee. In bed? Again, no pee breaks. He usually has such a tight grip on you, only able to fall asleep buried in your arms. It doesn't matter how hot it is, if you roll away he'll feel bad. He knows you don't hate him and that you're just moving in your sleep but :( come back. He can't sleep without you!

You wouldn’t consider yourself a morning person, but sometimes you’d wake up and simply be too restless to fall back asleep. Sometimes it was anxiety, other times excitement, but today you woke up simply content. Kurt’s arms were wrapped around you loosely, which was a surprise. He’s normally fully wrapped around you, limbs tangled tightly with your own, tail wound around your wrist, ankle, or hand in his sleep. You smile as you turn around, brushing hair out of his face. He doesn’t even stir, nor lean into the warmth of your hand. You’d be freaking out if it weren’t for his steady breathing, but the two of you had a rough couple of days. If he’s sleeping this deeply, he deserves the rest.

It’s easy to slide out of his arms, quietly padding out of the bedroom barefooted. You flinch when you reach the cold wood floors of the hallway, early spring still inconsistent with its bouts of cold weather. After quietly closing the door, you make your way to the living room on the search for a pair of slippers. You had a bad habit of losing them, sometimes stealing Kurt’s instead, but you find yours set aside neatly. You smile as you slip them on, knowing that you most certainly weren’t the one who put them there.

It’s still dark outside when you start to preheat the oven, and you know you must be up way too early. You laugh a little, with how early Kurt tends to rise, you can only imagine the time. You glance at the oven clock and notice it’s a little after 5 am. You grimace just a little, deciding to ignore it for now. Might as well make breakfast.

You feel like you’ve forgotten how to make breakfast food. Kurt always manages to beat you to it, waking you up in the morning with the smell of coffee and baked goods. You used to feel bad about it, telling him that he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have to go through with the effort. You felt guilty about such a simple thing, feeling like an inconvenience to him. That feeling didn’t last long, however. Kurt had insisted that you were worth the effort, worth his love, and much more. You don’t fight him on it anymore, having taken over lunch preparations instead. He still tries to beat you to that too, though. It’s become a competition as of late, and you smile in a giddy manner, excited to see his pout when he realizes you managed to beat him to breakfast.

The sun has risen by the time you’ve finished the biscuits and set them out to cool. You’re scrambling some eggs when a tail wraps around your waist and a warm chest presses against your back. Kurt nuzzles into your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin.

“Guten morgen.” His morning voice is groggy, and to be honest, he sounds like he’s about to fall back asleep right here in the kitchen, holding onto you like a pillow.

“Good morning,” You giggle, turning your head to kiss him sweetly. He’s pouting when you pull away, leaning his cheek on your shoulder.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.” Kurt mopes. You mimic his pout with a poorly hidden smile, kissing him a few more times. They were chaste, as you didn't want to get distracted and burn the eggs.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn't want to wake you up.” You turn your attention back to the eggs in the pan, and Kurt sighs dramatically at your words, beginning to smile a bit himself. You see an arm sneakily reach over to take the spatula out of your hands, but you’re quick to hold it away from him. He smiles widely when he’s caught, pulling you flush to his chest as he tries to snatch it again with his other hand.

“No!” You giggle. “Kurt, stop it! I’m not letting you finish the eggs!” You may have the willpower to keep the spatula away, but Kurt still has the upper hand with longer arms and an extra limb. His laughs are infectious and he fights you for the utensil.

“Penance, then! For leaving me in a cold bed, I could have gotten sick, you know?” You gasp as Kurt manages to slip the spatula from your grasp. He rejoices in victory, holding it above your head as he turns back to the eggs. He kisses you on the cheek, holding you squarely in his grasp as he finishes breakfast for you, as he always does.

Today was a good morning indeed.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler #nightcrawler Headcannons #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner #kurt wagner headcannons

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the-starlight-will-find-me · 3 months

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Day 1 Warm Up

What up my fellow followers, it me Dave and we're back with another test! So I have signed up for muscle growth muscle expansion thing whatever they call and it supposed to make my body bigger, especially my pec.

As you all already know that I'm a pretty big guy myself, spend most of my time training and working out to be this huge, apparently those guy give and single pill and in 20 day my body will double or triple it size. It sounds like bullshit and hard to believe but I willing to test it out for my followers since you guys recommend so much.

I already use the pill before the recording so if you want to know if it work or not, remember to follow and hit the notification so you won't miss it.

Day 8 Milker

Hey there guy is Dave here! so as you already know it been 8 day since I try out the growing pill and to my surprise, it really work!

I mean just look at my huge pec! they massive! It been quite hard to find clothes that fit my current stage but it doesn't bother me that much.

What do bother me is heaviness my pec are, when I squeeze them with my hand it felt really soft not as hard as I thought. Sometimes I even feel something wet at my nibbles but it could be me sweating the shit out cause the weather been hit lately.

Day 14 Sunday Morning

We are back with another blog and as you guys can see I having some difficult time finding a shirt since my pec are too big. And recently picked up some habits to be more healthy and keep fit that why my skin look a bit tan or darker, so in my last blog some of you assume that my pec started producing milk and believe me it sounds crazy but I did test it out by squeezing and massaging it and slowly milk starts to come out my nibbles.

I felt really good after that but there no way I'm living like this, people will call me a cow and teasing me for it. I report the situation to the place but they didn't respond so I'm kinda worried, you guy wish me luck.

Day 20 Final Day

GUYS!! You have to help me! it been a couple day since my last blog and just look at me! a completely different person!

I signed up for growing bigger muscle not becoming a horny cow person. My pec is just too big and heavy to the point I can't stand up straight anymore cause they are weighing me down and my skin are literally black now!

This morning I wake up and you guys know what happened? MILK was everywhere! but that not all, my cock is tiny now! it wasn't like this yesterday and when I try to touch it, no response but my pec was getting harder and sensitive like how a penis would act when hard.

I don't know what to do at this point, I try to send them a full email explaining what happened just to realize the site were gone like never existed in the first place.... Maybe it best to getting use to this situation.

Who know maybe having big muscular pec that can produce milk isn't so bad, on the bright side I could possibly sell my milk and gain some money.

#muscle tf #male tf #short story

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pedgito · 5 months

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter.

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different.

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows.

You care.

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.”

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you.

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol.

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around.

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles.

You’ll take it.

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart.

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart.

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same.

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood.

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away.

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse.

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible.

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation.

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it.

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat.

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave.

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air.

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You.

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea.

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do.

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul.

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know.

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #my writing #posting this and hiding for another six months #pedrostories

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eyesofshinigami · 2 months

Text

Gifts

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, fluff, minor sexual content

Prompt: For @forgottenkanji "Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy"

WC: 653

Written for Day 29 of @steddielovemonth

He tells himself it’s going to be worth it. Standing here in thirty degree weather, shivering his ass off, waiting for the ticket office to open. Steve can picture the look on Eddie’s face when he shows up on their anniversary with Metallica tickets and that almost makes it worth it.

Three hours he’s been standing out here. The line is getting longer and longer, so he’s glad he made the decision to skip work for the day to come.

Almost. His toes are still fucking freezing.

“Hey man, you in the right line?” a couple of guys behind him snicker, and Steve has to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Sure am. Friend of mine really likes the band and couldn’t make it out, so I figured I would grab tickets for him,” Steve lies smoothly. It’s not really any of these guys’ business, but he’s learned that it’s sometimes the best way to deal with people like this.

The guys are quiet and one finally pipes up, “That’s kind of awesome, man. Sorry.”

Steve waves them off, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. He checks his watch; eight o’clock, the box office should open very soon. He had felt a little bad lying to Eddie, saying that he was going for a run and then had to get to work early, but he’d make it up to him with kisses later on.

He hears cheers go up and the line starts moving, butterflies kicking up in his belly. The counter comes into view and the bored girl at the desk pops her gum as he gets the tickets. Middle seats, nothing fancy, but it’ll be enough to make Eddie lose his mind.

Steve can’t wait.

–

Two weeks later they’re laying in bed, sweaty after sex and full of Jim’s Chinese from down the block. It’s been one of the best anniversaries Steve can remember, and he knows it’s about to get even better.

“Got you a present,” he tells Eddie, reaching over to his nightstand to pull out the envelope he’s been hiding there for the last two weeks. He can’t wait to see the look on Eddie’s face; it’s going to be worth being cold for three hours and the subsequent runny nose that followed.

Eddie grins, eyes shining. “I got you one too.” He reaches over and grabs something from his own bedside table. “On the count of three?”

Together, they say, “One… two… three!”

They each hand the other a similar looking envelope. Eddie opens his first, and lets out a screech of pleasure. “Holy shit!!! Metallica tickets? I thought they sold out!!” He tackles Steve to the bed, kissing his face obnoxiously. “How?”

“Went and waited in line,” Steve replies, because yup, absolutely worth it. “I wanted to get them for you.”

Eddie’s eyes are a little wet and he pulls his hair in front of his face, delighted. “Okay, now you. Then I’m going to ride you into the mattress because I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Heart full, Steve opens up his own envelope, only to find a pair of tickets to go see the Bulls play next Saturday. His eyes go wide. “Eddie, what? You got me Bulls tickets? How-?”

“Asked that guy Jake at your work and I went down the other day and got them. I thought you would like them.”

“But you hate sports!”

Eddie shrugs, looking bashful again. “Yeah, but you don’t. I thought it would nice, you know? We could go together? Unless you want to take like… Jake or something, but-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence. Steve is pulling him close, kissing him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their bodies press together and Steve is so ready to show Eddie how much he appreciates him. Repeatedly, until neither of them can move.

All in all, a pretty great anniversary, he’d say.

#steddie #steddielovemonth #les writes things

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luna0713hunter · 7 months

Note

hii young!luffy x young!reader fluff inspired by the kiss scene in my girl? honestly u don't don't have to know the film you can just search up the scene! also it doesn't even have to be fully accurate all I'm really asking for is their first kiss

Author's note : hello there!so abt this request;i havent watched my girl ,but I've searched abt it and gosh they're so adorable?!?!maybe I'll watch it this week!

My Girl

Monkey d. Luffy x reader

Warnings : lots of fluff,young!Luffy x young!reader, you're both 10 btw

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Your mother always used to tell you that you'll find your true love when you grew up.

But you found love a little bit too early.

It was a sunny summer day. Those days where the weather is both too hot to go outside but staying inside is not an option either. So with small hands interlocked,you and your long time best friend,Luffy,go to your usual hanging spot : Shanks' ship.

The crew were all outside, perhaps that was the reason why the two of you had entered without anyone telling you that you're too young for being on a pirate ship. But when you sit down on the wooden surface and spread your small picnic basket that Makino had packed,you give Luffy a blinding smile and offer him a small sandwich.

And true to his fashion ,Luffy swallows whole the entire piece in one go.

You huff and smack his hand away from your share,and glare at him, "dont eat so fast or you'll get an stomachache!"

"nuh uh!i can eat the whole basket and still be hungry!"

"well too bad!!Makino packed this lunch for both of us!so you have to share!"

Luffy pouts but complies, choosing to grab an apple instead and munch on it slower this time.

There's a moment of silence before Luffy opens his mouth and the world stops.

"hey,y/n?'

"yeah?"

"have you ever kissed anyone?"

You loudly choke on your food.

Luffy jumps up and gives you a bottle of water,and with concerned eyes,rubs your back.

"you alright?!"

You cough and try to wipe your eyes from the tears that had formed.

"w-why would you ask that?"

Luffy sits across you crossed leg and shrugs.

"i saw some couple kissing in the bar last night,and it got me thinking," he then looks at you and grins, "so?have you?"

You shake your head furiously as you feel your cheeks heating up with each passing second, "of course not! I'm only ten!"

"but Makino says love has no age."

Your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open, "L-love?" You swallow and your voice suddenly drops;like you're scared somebody will hear you, "who do you love,Luffy?"

And he answers without missing a bit that it gives you whiplash.

"you of course!who else!?"

His answer makes you shut your mouth so fast,that you cringe upon the sound of your teeth clattering. You cant speak;what can you say to his confession? But when you see him staring at you expectedly,you swallow and gather your courage to speak again.

"Luffy," you wet your lips before continuing, "i think loving someone romantically is different than... loving your parents or..Shanks and Makino."

Luffy tilts his head,and you smile upon seeing his adorable puppy like eyes.

"but y/n,i know i love you. Why would i mistake it?"

"how do you know it's different?"

Luffy folds his arms against his chest and takes a moment to consider your question.

"its like," he wonders aloud, "when i see you its different from when i see Shanks or Makino. My heart gets all..mushy mushy,"

"mushy mushy?!"

"Yeah!" He grins and nods rapidly, " it beats really hard,and i want to share my foods with you!!i never want to do that with Shanks or others!!"

And to Luffy, sharing food is a big deal.

You shyly glance away and start fidgeting with your fingers, "so... you've been thinking about kissing..." You swallow, "me?"

Luffy nods again and skootched toward your until your knees are pressing together.

"do you...want to try it?"

"kissing?"

"mhm."

You give him a shy smile and with a final nod,Luffy leans forward with his eyes squeezed shut,and presses his lips clumsily against yours.

The kiss is sweet and short;the taste of the apple that he had earlier lingering on your lips even when he pulls away.

You wish you could taste it once again.

"so," Luffy nervously bounces his knee, "how was it?"

You giggle and leave a small peck on his nose,making him scrunch it up.

"it was...sweet."

"sweet?"

"yeah. I liked it."

The words seemed to make Luffy beam,as his grin becomes impossibly wider.

"I'm glad!!!"

Before either of you can say another word, there's the sound of another pair of footsteps and soon, Shanks' playful voice calls out for the two of you.

"you kids better not be here again!!"

And when Luffy takes your hand and with giggles ,runaway from the ship,you cant help but to feel your heart beating loud,and being warm just like the summer sun.

"hey," a snap of finger in front of your face brings you back from your daydreaming, "whatcha thinking about?"

You smile at the boy in front of you;his taller form and muscular arms and shake your head.

"just remembering some good memories."

"oh?am i in any of them?"

You glance at him and when you see his warm chocolate brown eyes,you close your own and sigh contently.

"yeah. You're the main character in all of my dreams and memories."

#monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #opla luffy #one piece x reader #one piece live action x reader #opla x reader

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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

Text

Bad Liar // katsuki bakugou

a/n: i got soooo carried away with this one lmfao no regrets though, i love bakubaby so bad and this is so self-ship coded no apologies :D this is probably my last piece before kinktober! i know i know boo hiss im sorry, im sorry, i'll probably still pepper in drabbles and headcanons just because :0

cw: suggestive, 16+ to read. bakugo is agressive as always, he has his own language lmao, possessiveness? friends to lovers, hiding it from the bakusquad!

wc: 2.9k

He can’t stand it. It was his stupid idea in the first place, but still, he finds himself knee deep in regret instead of ocean-water. And his friends make everything worse. Oh his stupid, stupid friends and their stupid gatherings and hang out sessions, just irritating him beyond belief. You weren’t included in this tirade, no. Never. You’ve never had a stupid idea in your life, other than agreeing to be his woman, he thinks now.

Denki and Mina would want to go to the beach. That’s so perfectly, stupidly, them. It’s the hottest day of the year, and Katsuki is miserable in so many ways it’s almost comical. Certainly he would laugh if it was happening to anyone but him. He’s already prone to hyperhidrosis due to his quirk nature, and the weather certainly wasn’t helping the matter. He looks like he’s been greased in baby oil or something slimy straight out of the sea. You on the other hand, look—he can’t look. You’ve been friends since your first year at UA, or as close to friends as one really can get with the explosive blond. You seemed not to mind his bristly nature, even when he got a little loud, you never flinched away from him or went out of your way to push his buttons like everyone else.

You were different. You invited him to read your favorite books and mangas with you, you introduced him to new video games and even offered to train together, something that anyone outside of Izuku ran away from. You were unafraid, he realized. He knows he makes it hard. He’s hateful and unforgiving, loud and brash. None of those are good qualities, he’s well aware, but you made him feel like they were. You laughed at his rude comments, only shaking your head or rolling your eyes playfully to disagree. When he got loud, you got louder, a tactic his mom first employed and something he hadn’t realized worked on him so well. No, you made those qualities feel endearing. It wasn’t long before he was inviting you to tag along with him too, teaching you how to make different dishes and even trying your hand at baking while he’s crouched over recipe books spouting the ingredients at you. He wants you to study with him, even if he hasn’t allowed anyone from the inner circle to join him willingly. He always invites you, and he never hides his casual requests for you to come back to his dorm for movies or the newest episode of your favorite anime. He’s completely smitten, clearly.

To everyone, really. It was obvious, even to you. Katsuki is nothing if not prideful, so you were certainly not going to burst his bubble, or allow any of the bakusquad to do so either. You knew he would work through his emotions and thoughts on his own, and he would come to you when he’s ready.

And yes, that took well into your adulthood. School was filled with tragedy after tragedy, you were happy to make it out of there with Katsuki, your friends, and your ability to become a hero still intact. The two of you worked for the same agency for the next couple of years straight out of high school, and that’s what helped him really understand just how different you are. You’re strong, the strongest woman he’s ever seen if he’s honest. Your abilities are insane, your motivation is inspiring, and your knowledge and instinct are only paralleled by his own. Perfect. You’re smart, beautiful, powerful, and so unique. He couldn’t stand it anymore, just watching from the sidelines as he tried to figure out why he was so enamored with you.

Turns out, jealousy is one hell of a motivator.

One day, when he was assigned a different route on patrol and you were sent off with a new male partner, it all made sense. He watched the guy put a hand on the small of your back, dangerously close to the elastic-wrapped mounds of your ass. His ass. He was fuming. The sidekick gave you an excited smile, championing himself lucky to be partnered with such a force–and beauty– as yourself. Katsuki saw it immediately, how the other sidekick was looking at you, it was painfully clear. He wasn’t worried, you would never give this extra your attention–hence how you throw the rando’s arm off of you and stomp away–what does piss him off though, is that other men cannot understand that you might as well walk around with his brand across your forehead. Was he not crystal clear? Even if he hadn’t known that you were unspeakably his, surely everyone else could tell? You two went everywhere together, never was one seen without the other, except for this fuckin’ dumbass patrol–and he was scary enough no one should even think about you in that way.

So he finishes his rounds as early as possible that day, making it back to HQ to meet up with you after your disdainfully different route. He’s pleased to see you alone, leaning up against a doorframe with your skin-tight hero suit still perfectly intact and clinging to your every curve. No drama, no danger, he smirks to himself in relief. The way you look back at him, though, that has his heart stopping in his chest. You look so at ease, your resting bitch face melting into a smile of succor. He can tell you’re just as relieved to see him, the way you jump from foot to foot in excitement tells him so. He can’t help but give you an arrogant half-smile, amused by and admiring your every move. The air is different, the space between the two of you spoke of something different than just friends. He throws his arm around your waist, and you can tell from the look on his face that he’s ready. His red siren gaze sparkles with a bit more intensity, his calloused fingers soothing circles into the curve of your side, even the smile playing at his lips says it all. You’re his now. He knows you know this, and you’re so good to him you won’t even make him say it, but it seemed that his little revelation was enough to change him in a way you didn’t suspect.

“Yer my lady now.” He says, no trace of annoyance, only a slight upturn to the corners of his lips.

“I know. Been your lady for a long ass time.” You chuckle, leaning your head over on his shoulder as you begin the walk home. You couldn’t wait to tell Mina–she would freak the fuck out that he finally made his move. Even more relieved would be poor Kirishima, the man on the receiving end of so many you-themed rants. Denki’s teasing may be endless–and Sero may be the only soul genuinely happy for everyone without making it a big deal. You know the last thing Katsuki wants is to make this a big deal. He was still working his way into emotional fluency, and you didn’t want them to stunt his progress–even though it was well intentioned.

It’s like he can read your mind, or more aptly the subtle knit of your brows and purse of your lips. He knows your brain is hard at work thinking, so he steers you home, his house of course. The weather was decent, cold like he likes. He lets you think, focusing on the sound of your boots crunching in the snow. “What’s going on in that fat head’a yours?”

You chuckle. “I was just thinking about how insufferable our friends are gonna be.” You say, icy fingers reaching for the solace you know awaits in his warm hands. He doesn’t fight you, cupping your hands in one of his. He furrows his brows, considering your sentence, yet his thumb still absentmindedly strokes your soft skin. He huffs after a time.

“We ain’t gotta tell ‘em. They’ll figure it out eventually anyway–let’s just enjoy bein’ us. Press’ll be stupid too.” He sighs out, not having considered the issues you two may face now, status and all. How annoying. He squeezes on your hands to convey his love.

You sigh. “God, so true. I didn’t think of that either.” You muse, smiling at the snowflakes collecting in Katsuki’s ashy hair and lashes while he stares at you. It can only ever be described as a stare, the intensity too much to be considered anything less. You slip your hands from his momentarily, and he frowns at the loss of you. He looks up and realizes you’re unlocking his door and sighing at the warmth that greets the two of you upon entering. Once the door swings shut, your hands find him again, though now you face him, and you dare to let your touch wander up his forearms and biceps before falling back down and reaching back up again. He enjoys the feeling, the soothing comfort of your strokes nearly causing him to sigh. He just hangs his arms around your waist instead, appreciating your beauty without fear now.

“S’ppose we’ll keep this ‘er lil secret then.” He drawls, gently pulling your body until it stops against his. You can feel his warm caramel-scented breath waft over your face, the heat in his eyes causing your own to rush to your cheeks. He smirks at that, cherishing every moment he can fluster you since it’s so typically the other way around.

You nod, unashamedly looking down at his lips. He doesn’t hide the sultry way in which he coats them, before letting them stretch into another, wider, predatory smirk. He forces your eyes back up to his with his two fingers under your chin.

“Sound good?” He asks with an arched brow. You nod again. He chuckles, one so deep it reverberates through his buff chest. He’s entertained, you’re absolutely falling apart just from standing so close to him now that all his feelings for you were confirmed. “Use your words and I’ll give ya a kiss.”

You force yourself to swallow, and then clear your throat, feeling frozen in place. He looks at you like you were the only person he could see. He looks at you with such insatiable desire, you’re rendered speechless just from a few touches and his carmine eyes dancing over your body. “Yeah–our secret.” You manage.

He nods his approval, sliding his hand to cup your cheek instead. His hand is so big his fingers reach over your jaw and into your soft, vanilla scented hair. He almost loses his confidence, your scent and the way you bat your eyelashes hitting him all at once. You always smell so sweet, even though you were actually spicy. He thought it fit you. You stand on your tiptoes to prompt him, your hands landing on his toned pecs. It brings him back to the present, and his heart actually flutters at what he was about to do. He swallows any nervousness and leans down, licking his lips a final time before he slots them over yours. You jolt him awake, the cool touch of your mouth sends warmth tingling through him, and you’re not doing much better. You feel like you’re melting as he pulls you closer desperately, unable to get enough of you.

And maybe, just maybe, that night ended with him becoming very acquainted with that beautiful body you proudly display today, at the beach, with all his friends, who still don’t know that you’re together.

That’s why he’s so impossibly frustrated, keeping his head turned and pretending to be entranced by the ocean waves. His friends are stupid, but they aren’t dumb. They’ve known for the longest that Katsuki’s head over heels for you, but upon your promise, they tried to give him less shit about it.

But Denki just can’t hold back this time. To think that he can’t see Katuski’s “sunburn”, the noticeable way he’ll look anywhere but you, and his overly sensitive nerves today is an insult to Chargebolt. He scoffs loudly.

“Hey Bakugou, you allergic to sexy?”

The blond’s head snaps to him and his eyes narrow in confusion. “What?!”

Denki chuckles smoothly. “You won’t even look at Y/N–and she is definitely sexy. That bikini is working overtime–”

“Say one more word about her.” He dares, sparks collecting in the palms of his hands. At the crackling sound, Kirishima decides it’s time to intervene. He holds his arms out like someone approaching a wild horse to saddle.

“Woah, woah–easy bro!” He chuckles nervously, but it gets Katsuki’s attention, at least enough that the threat of violence dies down. “I think what Denki’s trying to say is, normally you and Y/N are side-by-side. Is everything alright?”

Great. There was no way to win. If he looked at you, he’d surely pop a raging boner and that would confirm everything they’ve ever thought about him and his thoughts about you, but not looking at you resulted in their suspicion anyway. He huffs through his nose and scowls.

“Yeah? Just tryin’ not to be a perv like you two fuckers. Stop lookin’ at her–”

“Right. Okay.” Sero rolls his eyes at the longtime friend. “You know none of us give a fuck if you guys want to get together, right? In fact, we’re literally praying for it so you stop being so goddamn intolerable.”

“So you admit you have to fight looking?” Denki snickers. Katsuki eyes the two with the wrath of hell.

Kirishima gives him a defusing glare, sighing at his hot-tempered buddy. “I second Sero, but either way, we want you to have some fun, man. We know you can’t be having a good time sitting in the sand like this. Come play some volleyball with us!” He insists, dragging Katsuki to his feet.

Bakugo wrenches his way free of him, but follows nonetheless, scowling even deeper when Mina calls out, “Three on three! I want Bakugou and Denki!” She giggles, leaving you to team up across from him with Kirishima and Sero. He convinces himself that beating your ass in volleyball should keep your friends off your scent.

All goes well, for a while. That is until the rotation puts him directly across from you.

Denki was right. You are so sexy. And that bikini…how could you set him up like this? The fabric clings to your hips, disappearing into the folds of your dimpled and sand-covered ass. God, he shoulda never let you out of the house. His eyes finally move up toward your bust, almost laughably stuffed into your top. It’s so unfair. You’re ridiculously stunning, and he can’t help but think you did this on purpose. He can feel his blood rushing all at once, and he knows he must be staring hard. Before he can comprehend anything else, you’re running towards the net, beautiful body glistening in the sun, your sea-textured hair swaying in time with your chest as you jump and smack the ball right in his face.

Kirishima can’t stifle his laugh, and Denki nearly collapses in laughter beside the explosive man. Mina just puts her hands on her hips, trying to hide her knowing smirk.

Katsuki is prideful, arrogant, brash, unforgiving, loud, and hateful. You made sure to love and accept those qualities to an extent, and help him grow out of them in some others. One thing you’ll never be able to change is his competitive spirit–and you just took a cheap shot in his rulebook.

“That was a low blow. It doesn’t count!” He groans, swiping some of the kicked up sand from his tanned abs. He goes to pick up the ball when Sero challenges.

“How so? She just spiked it. That’s legal.”

And to his dismay, you play right into it. “Yeah, why’s it a low blow, Suki?”

Goddamn you. Batting your lashes and all. You’re challenging him too, daring him to keep lying or to come clean to all his friends. He snorts at you, clearly you underestimate who you’re dealing with. He’ll fuck you on the beach if you wanna push buttons–but he decides he’ll take a more moderate approach only because he doesn’t want anyone else to see you naked. You can’t back him into a corner without doing the same to yourself, so he just juts his chin at you.

“Because you wore that bikini just to piss me off ‘n make me tell our friends yer mine.” He growls, arching a brow and folding his arms over his chest. The friends in question are unusually quiet and deathly still, exchanging knowing and relieved looks.

You shrug, blushing a bit. He caught you, but it worked anyway. Only because he allowed it, but still. You hum your acknowledgement and motion for the ball back.

“You got me, baby. That counts as a point though. Ball’s mine.” You wink, that smug grin of yours enough to make his heart pound like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. You’re most definitely somethin’ else, but he loves you to pieces, and he feels a lot better about being able to be just as pervy out loud as he wants to be.

He slings the ball back over the net, mirroring your smirk. Once again, he’ll never let you best him. His eyes shine with mischief as he winks and says for your embarrassment, “Oh yer still goin’ down, sugartits.”

#kyleewritesmha #last piece before kinktober works omg #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou drabble #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #mha x you

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st-el-la-luna · 3 months

Text

Syrupy Sweet: Nasty Baker! Soap x Reader

tumblr deleted the orgininal for whatever reason. Luckily I tracked down a reblog. Edited and added some new stuff (love tumblr for deleting my most popular post, rip my 600+ notes 😔)

NSFW 18+

Soap is forced into an early retirement. He gets a job at a small bakery. And that's where he meets you

➔ gn!afab!reader (described as having boobs & wearing a bra), creepy soap, pervy soap, obsessive soap, lust at first sight, non/dub-con cum eating, dirty thoughts, fantasizing, humping inanimate objects, coming in panta

After so many years working in the military, serving his country. Protecting the people of the world from danger. The last thing Soap expected waas tyo be discharged so suddenly and with so little warning.

Too much time working with explosives has affected his hearing. A bad knife wound, or a torn Achilles tendon. A bad break that never healed right. A couple of head injuries too many.

"An early retirement," they'd called it. Forced retirement more like it. They won't even tell him why, just that he's, "no longer fit for active duty," and that he should be grateful that they, "got him such a nice deal. That he gets to keep his pension."

He’s bitter about it, understandably, He likes his job. He’s good at it. They can’t be serious about this! His performance hasn’t been hindered.

Regardless of the reason, in spite of his arguments, Soap is benched, permanently. Price is apologetic, Ghost is... Distant, though that's to be expected. Gaz promises to keep in touch. And he does keep in touch, they all do.

But it’s ot the same. Soap still feels lonely. Bored. He doesn’t know what to do with himself or all the time he suddenly has on his hands. Doesn’t know how to operate without the adrenaline rush, without something to occupy his hands and minds. He figures that, maybe, he should get a job. A civilian job. Not one of those cushy desk jocky jobs Price had offered him out of pity, Soap wants a job far removed from the military. Really reintegrate himself into normal, civvie life.

After a bit of searching along the drizzly cobbled Glasgowian streets, Soap finds a little coffee shop and bakery nearby. A tiny, quaint little thing, run by a sweet old woman who just doesn't have the energy to keep the doors open on her own.

The place is situated on a street corner, tucked away from the busy traffic-filled streets. A soft bell jingles when the door opens. The sign is hsand painted. The place, though clearly aged, is well looked after, loved. The wood floors and counters shine; the tables and chairs, though antique, are comfortable, well made; plants hang from the ceiling; and a couple bookshelves line a wall, a leave a book take a book community library.

Soap applies for the position and despite his lack of experience, he gets the job. Something about him reminding the old woman of her own son.

At first, Soap worked there with her. Learning the ins and outs of the trade. How to make meringue and bread and macrons and creme brûlé. It's not easy, not at first, but with practice and time, he gets the hang of it.

He figures it's because of his experience with explosives and chemistry. Baking is... Kind of the same thing.

Eventually, he's left to tend to the day-to-day affairs of the bakery. The woman still writes all the recipes and makes some of the breads. But he's the one managing the front of the house.

It's where he meets you.

Sweet. Kind. Polite. Breathtaking. Irresistible. Sexy. You.

You come tumbling into the warm bakery on a day when the weather is particularly bad, even for Scotland. Strong winds, cold rains threatening to turn to hail, thunder rumbling in the distance.

You're soaked to the bone. Hair dripping. Shoes leaving puddles in your wake as each of your steps is announced by a wet squish. Your full cheeks bitten by the cold, fingertips numb, you offer him a blinding smile.

He's more focused on your tits though. And your bra. Visible through your thin, now see-through, shirt. Black lace. He can see how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take. He can even see a small mole, or maybe a birthmark, on the swell just above the cup of your bra. He wants to sink his teeth into you. Wants to suck that mark into his mouth, chew and lick at it, make it bigger. Make it his. Make you his.

He's drooling a little, he realizes absently.

"Hey," you say softly, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. Hands curled into adorable little sweater paws as you try to wipe your wet hands off on your equally wet pants.

Soap just stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Shell shocked. He... He’s never... You’re so... He... Holy fuck.

Eventually, he clears his throat and manages a smile, stepping a bit closer to the counter so he can hide the growing tent in his pants. He forces himself to meet your eyes, rather than stare at your chest.

But they’re staring at me, his innermost thoughts whine, wanton and airy in his mind. So desperate for attention... for love... ready to be suckled and bit and groped and pinched...

Johnny leans forward, elbows resting on the counter and chuckles, flashing you an easy, charming smile. "Hey... Looking for something to warm you up?"

Please say you've already found what you're looking for. Please say you want him to warm you up. With his hands. His mouth. His cock. Please say–

"Yeah... Do you guys do hot chocolates?"

"It's not on the menu, but I've got my own stash in the back," he says as he looks you up and down. But how could you blame him? What with your... everything! This is your fault, honestly. Dirty, dirty, little thing, wearing a white shirt in the rain. You know what you’re doing. Something sinister and heated bubbles in his gut. A thick, molten, syrupy desire, a primal need. A sort of instinctive pull, a fish lured in by the soft glow of an angler fish. A moth to a flame. Helpless but to stare, slack jawed, and fighting back drool, as you stare up at him expectantly, He smiles, his lips spreading further as he notices your flustered state, how you shift under his stare, biting your lip as he looks you up and down. Logically, it’s a nervous reaction. But, in Soap’s quickly spiraling mind, it’s a clean indicator that you want him too. "I'll make one, special for you, darling."

Your eyes sparkle, your smile tears the breath from his lungs. "Really? Oh my god, thank you."

Soap grabs a mug from the shelf and twirls it around his finger. He pulls up his sleeves, bunching them around his mid biceps. He flexes, purposefully, showing off the hard-earned muscles in his arms, the scars, the prominent veins, his big, strong hands. Hands that would look so perfect around your neck. Or holding your wrists. Or deep between your shaking legs reaching deep and good, far past anything you could reach on his own. He wonders if you’re a crier. He hopes that you are.

Soap notices the way your eyes fall to the newly exposed skin. The way your jaw drops a little. The way you close your mouth. The way you glance away before quickly looking back. The way your throat bobs when you swallow...

Holy shit.

He can give you something else to swallow if you'll let him. Please let him.

He rolls his hips against the counter and lets out a stuttering breath through his nose. His lips part. His tongue feels thick and leaden in his mouth.

A moan bubbles in his throat, he disguises it as a cough. "Can..." He swallows another noise as he shifts his stance, achingly cock pressed against the teeth of his zipper. He makes a show of dusting the counter off, acting like he's tossed something into the bin so he can adjust his pants. "Can I get you anything else?"

Your eyes, gorgeous eyes, scan the menu and the display. "A cinnamon bun?" You ask, pointing to the delicacy through the glass case. "Please and thank you."

"You're in luck," he says, rutting against the counter again, as quick and harsh as he can without drawing attention. A part of him thoough, a sick, twisted, part of him that quickly spreads his mind like a weed, corrupting and poisoning, wants you to notice. Wants you to catch him. To punish him. "Just made a fresh batch... I've just got to head back and ice them."

"Oh, I'm fine with one of them from the display, you don't need to trouble yourself."

Oh, and how sweet you are...

You keep chewing on your bottom lip. Part of him wants to stop you, tell you that that’s his job. Wants to bite your lips until they’re raw and swollen.

He's fucked. Well and truly fucked.

He smiles. You’re blissfully ignorant of the darkness lurking in his eyes. "No trouble at all... It's my pleasure."

And it is his pleasure. Very much so.

He comes out a bit later, a little out of breath. A little red in the face. A couple buttons undone on his shirt.

"Hot in there," he says with a smile, setting the mug and a cinnamon bun on the counter in front of you. He sets another little plate down, a doughnut. Chocolate frosting with a cream filling, the sticky white substance still pouring from the hole.

"I uh, I didn't order that," you say with a little, awkward laugh. "The doughnut."

"I know you didn't, sweet thing... It's a new recipe I've been trying out. Trying to get right... Mind telling me what you think? It's free of charge, promise."

"Oh," you blink, staring up at him with those wide eyes. God, how he wants to see those eyes watering. How he wants to see those eyes tearing up as you choke on his cock. How he wants to see you cry as he fucks you. You smile. "Thank you!"

You pay for your drink and dessert and blink up at him from under your lashes. Your smile turns shy as you chew your lip. Stop it. Stop it. You’re going to make him lose his mind. You have to know what you’re doing to him. You have to. "Keep the change."

He smiles. "Thanks."

You find a seat in the corner and settle in the corner with a book. Soap keeps an eye on you the whole time. Watches you as much as he can without attracting unwanted attention.

His cock throbs in his pants when he sees you take your first bite of the cinnamon roll. When you wipe at the icing with your thumb and lick it clean. He watches with delight as you eat and drink, rolling his hips against the counter in time with the bobbing of your throat as you swallow.

Soap watches you with rapt attention as you enjoy the desserts. His lips parted, jaw slack, drooling. He wonders if he could convince you to lick it away. He is so glad that he stopped by the office to record the security footage. He’s going to be watching this over and over and... Fuck!

With a final grind of his aching cock against the counter, his boxers are flooded with a wet, sticky warmth. He mourns it going to waste like that. His cum belongs in you. Your tight pussy, round ass, past your full lips.

"How was it?" He asks, breathless, when you return your dishes to the counter. He shifts his stance, hiding the wet spot in his pants. He's not embarrassed that he came in his pants just from watching how your throat moves as you swallow. At watching the way that you lave your tongue over your fingers, licking the thick glaze away with a spit-slicked tongue.

He just doesn't want to weird you out.

"It was amazing," you say. "I really liked the balance of the sweet with the salty... Sometimes the sugar is just... Too much."

"I agree," Soap says, breathless. He swallows a lump in his throat. "I agree."

You become a regular from then on. He always gets you freshly baked items, from the back. No matter how busy.

He's not supposed to alter the recipes. But he doubts the lady will mind that he made a change. All he did was put a little love into the recipes. A little bit of himself in the sour cream glaze.

Keep your eyes peeled for a part 1.5 involving what soap did in the back room!

Comments and reblogs help motivate!

Masterlist!

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #x reader #dark fic #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #nastybaker!soap

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amomentsescape · 3 months

Note

The shirt headcannon was great, but what if the slashers had matching shirts with their S/O reader? Also if ya in one of the snowy storm states stay safe! ❄ 🧊 ⛸

Slashers React to Couple's T-Shirts

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Feat. Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, & Stu

You can find the OG T-Shirt request here.

A/N: Such a cute request! And yes, those dealing with the crazy weather, please stay safe! (Also, I couldn't find a better GIF option so I just went with the same one again)

Freddy Krueger

Yep, he wears it over his sweater

Can you expect anything less from Freddy though?

He really enjoys matching with you

He even let out some chuckles when you showed them to him for the first time

"I'm gonna need to make myself a closet if you keep up with this"

He definitely finds the shirts a tad bit cheesy, but he's not complaining

He happily wears the shirt with pride

He becomes a bit upset if you show up not wearing it though

Michael Myers

What even is this?

The first shirt was already bad enough, but this?

He doesn't even like cats

Just gives you a deadpan look

Will let you put yours on, but absolutely refuses to wear his

Barely even wants to touch it to be honest

You quite literally have to force it over his head

And even then, he just complains the whole time

Embrace the moment while you have it, because there's absolutely no way you're going to get that shirt on him again

Jason Voorhees

He smiles wide at these

One of the things he loves is the size difference between you two

It makes him feel like a protector

So you gifting him MATCHING shirts just makes him feel all giddy inside

The fact that they point out the size difference is a plus

He arguably likes this one more than the last (since he actually understands what it means)

He only wears the shirt when you wear yours though

If your washing it or don't have it on, don't expect Jason to be wearing his

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas absolutely fell in love with Beauty and the Beast when you first showed it to him

He didn't think he'd ever find someone like you, but here you were, and that made him relate to the Beast quite a bit

So when you showed him these, he was ecstatic

Immediately puts it on and refuses to take it off for a couple days

Even in the blistering heat of Texas, he wears it

Will always give you a hug when he sees you wearing yours

By the end of the week however, his shirt is noticeably much dirtier than yours

They barely match anymore, but the meaning is still there

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is all giddy when he sees these

He just thinks the dinosaurs are absolutely adorable

And he honestly gets the joke pretty quickly!

Will insist you both put them on at the exact same time, doing a little spin for each other

He's clapping his hands and bouncing up and down

Will become pretty protective of the garment though

If anyone besides you gets a little too close to him, he puts his arms out as if saying "don't touch the shirt"

He truly finds the shirts a symbol of your relationship, so if any stain or tear occurs, he will literally have a meltdown

Brahms Heelshire

He doesn't find them as funny as you do

But he likes the idea of you matching together, so he allows it

Will try to put your shirt on instead in hopes you don't notice

You do

He thinks you look cute, but he won't admit it

He's still mad that you think you're the boss

I mean, who makes the literal rules around here??

But the moment you baby him and tell him just how good the shirt looks on him, he gives in and accepts his fate

He does wear the cardigan over it, however

Norman Bates

You know Norman isn't one for loud garments

So you thought something simplistic and meaningful would be the best bet

When he first sees the shirts, he smiles and says they look extra comfy for you two

But when he sees your anniversary on the sleeves, he melts

Thinks it's super romantic and gives you a sweet kiss as a thank you

He wears the shirt all the time

Under his button ups, going to bed, lounging around

And you can tell he becomes extra happy when you have yours on too

It's just like having a cute reminder of your love for each other

And Norman is all about that

Billy Loomis

Billy had been talking about getting a new sweatshirt for forever now

So when you came across these, you knew you had to get them

Billy isn't usually one for cheesy things, but he can't stop the small smile that forms on his face

"You're a lifesaver, babe"

Will try it on and practically melt into it

Doesn't specifically ask, but he'll give you a look basically telling you to put yours on too

When he sees you both matching, he can't even lie that he likes it

Will snuggle up with you and thank you

Stu Macher

Stu immediately lets out a big laugh when he sees them

His amusement is quickly deflated when he fully reads the shirts

"Hey!"

You know he's just joking though, since he still has that huge grin on his face

"You're clearly the stupid one, right?"

You just give him a joking slap to the arm

Will make you put yours on with him and pulls out his camera

Takes a million pictures with you and the shirts, finding them hilarious

He definitely insists on wearing them in public since it makes it even more obvious that you're his

He just doesn't want to wear them around Billy

He'll make fun of him

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sturn-wrld · 4 months

Text

🪼 watch it in bed

pairing: matt x reader

summary: matt helps reader to fulfill all her romantic dreams

genre: fluff!!!

warnings: nicknames, that's it!

a/n: my next couple parts are going to be all the little things, these will all be generally short. i might release a cutey little post of the list. 😻

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------

ever since my heart wrenching love confession, matt has made it his personal mission to do all the things i had dreamed about doing with him. This was simple things like watching tv shows together or going out on the weekends but there are some more niche like pancakes for dinner or ph13 things like dressing up for him to undress me.

this all started a week after we started dating. "hey baby, can i ask you something?" he said walking up to me from his desk "of course" i said wondering what in the world this could be.

"what were those things you were saying when you were confessing to me." i sighed wondering when he would bring them up. they were all pretty specific scenarios so i was sure they would come up. "umm, ok, i'm going to try to explain this in the least lame way possible" i looked down to my lap trying to think of a way to say it. "i mean they were all kind of things i would see or hear about my friends doing with their boyfriends and me having never really had a good enough boyfriend, i never did any of those things so every time i would i guess remember that i liked you, these things would kind of pop up in my head or like me doing them with you" he started at me and i knew at that point that i had said too much.

"i'm so-sorry i've said-"

"shhh. no you haven't. that's really cute" he said cutting me off. "we can do those things if you like" he said looking at me softly. "knowing you, I'm sure you have a list somewhere" i just giggle as i pull up the note in my notes app, 'right person, right time'. he leans over my shoulder to read them. as i scroll through the small list he finds one he likes. "watch a tv show together" he says starting to read it, reading the continued dot point, "and then watch it bed when the weather is bad or we are sick" he said finishing it. "the first part is easy enough but the second part will come eventually" he looks to me moving from his spot beside me to grab the controller for his tv.

we scrolled through netflix for what seemed like an hour before deciding to watch money heist. it was never either of our first picks but we've watched almost everything else.

1 week later

i woke up instantly feeling the freezing cold biting at my skin as my boyfriend is wrapped up next to me in all the blankets. i tug at the blankets until one is loose trying to capture some warmth. i feel matt shift next to me. "morning beautiful" he says in his groggy morning voice as i turn towards him "morning handsome" i mutter before he placed his hand in mine bringing my hand to his mouth to give it a kiss. "it is way too cold today" matt says crossing his hands over his chest. i give him an 'are you serious face' "oh, let me tell you, i know" i say pulling the blankets more. "i'm sorry baby it's a habit" he says rubbing my face trying to make me feel better "one you better solve fast" is all is said before he gets up to grab the controller for his tv. "what are you doing? we have to get ready for the day." i say genuinely curious.

"it's too cold outside. we are staying in and watching tv. how else will we complete the list?"

taglist

@ermdontmindthisaccount @its-jennarose @ilovemattsturn @frozenvegitableoil @meme2003

#strniolosworld #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut

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seriesxwriting · 3 months

Text

I can’t get you off my mind <3

- w Rafe Cameron

Series: outer banks

warnings: Swearing, kissing, female objectifying (by topper).

Summary: topper stirs the pot by lying about what rafe was doing at the party last night. Do you believe him or not?

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 <𝟑

“What are you doing later? Do you wanna stay?” I mumbled into his top. I was laying on his chest and we were wrapped up in my green flowery covers. His arm was around me resting on my hip, he was wearing a black T-shirt so I could see his muscles where the sleeves ended. My right hand was on his bicep. I liked just holding onto it. “You want me to stay already, I’ve only been round twice” he giggled making me look up at him. His blue eyes staring deep into mine.

“Not to do anything” I shoved his face jokingly “I just like your company- you ever had a girl say that to you before?” I raised my eyebrow when he looked back at me with his famous smirk. “Something similar, but I’ve never reciprocated that” he told me dragging his thumb across my jawline. “No? Never?” I smiled showing my teeth, his head bent down. “I’ve never liked anyone like I like you” he licked his lips before pressing them against mine hungrily.

Me and Rafe were in what the kids call today a ‘talking stage’. He claims to have these deep feelings for me and I know I have them for him. Who on figure eight didn’t have those feelings for Rafe Cameron. He was in the year above me and everyone in my year creamed over the sight of him, I know it was the same for the girls in his year and even probably some of the boys. But with the reputation of Rafe Cameron I asked him to keep us on the low down.

We’d only told our friends really and we never went to crowed public places together. I wanted to just share this with him right now, so I can build trust with him and see if there is any room for a relationship.

“So, are you staying?” I questioned pulling away from him and running a thumb across his lips. “As much as I’m tempted right now, I’ve already rsvp’ed to a party” he told me tucking my hair behind my ear. My stomach sank. The weather had been crap recently, it had been storm after storm after storm. There hadn’t been any party’s not since me and Rafe started talking. “I know, this is the first one huh” he raised his eyebrow as if he could read my mind. “Yeah” I answered smally. “I told you that I’m going to prove to you my reputation don’t apply to you”.

“I hope that’s the case” I smiled taking his hand in mine and playing with his fingers. I rolled over onto my back so I could look at the ceiling. “I promise you, no drugs, no hoes, just me, the boys and a few beers” “but what if they egg you on?” “Babe I have my own mind, you’re all that’s on it” he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back towards him. His arms wrapped around my torso and his head in the crease of my neck. “Okay Rafe” I kissed the top of his head. He kissed my neck and then my jaw in response.

We stayed wrapped up just talking for a couple of hours before Rafe left me with a long kiss to remember him by before he went to his party. I didn’t know who was hosting it, but the fact that I wasn’t invited meant it was probably one of rafes drug friends that hadn’t gone to school with us. His replies weren’t too bad at the beginning of the night. But around eleven ish he stopped replying to my texts. I gave it two hours before I rolled my eyes and went to sleep.

In the morning I woke up to rays of sunshine slipping through my blinds and onto my face. I rolled over after rubbing my eyes and snapped my charger out of my phone. Rafe had replied, and also added a good morning text on the end of it. I smiled to myself forgetting all the worry and negativity I was feeling last night. I answered him back before getting up to go and brush my teeth. He asked me what my plans were for the day and seems I never do anything on a Sunday I told him I was free. He invited me round his and seems the weather was nice, told me to bring my swimming costume.

I quickly showed and got myself all ready to go to rafes. He lived a five minute walk away so I chose to not take my car and soak up the sun as I made my way to his house. As I turned the corner topper was driving past me. He slowed down stopping next to me and looked me up and down. “Hey y/n, looking good these days” “you alright top?” I nodded at him gripping my bag tightly. I felt uncomfortable under his gaze. “Not too bad, just heading down to the beach to meet kelce, where you off to?”.

“Going round rafes, think we’re just going to chill by the pool” l shrugged looking around the street. “Oh? Didn’t realise you guys were still on tings” his eyebrows slammed up and this shocked look spread across his face. It looked so genuine. “Why’d you think that? Has he said something” “no- no he hasn’t said anything, just thought well- the things he was doing last night didn’t exactly scream happy in a relationship”. My heart sank. “What- what things top?” I questioned walking closer to his car.

“I don’t wanna mess anything up y/n- look maybe it was all just- an accident because he was high” topper but his hands up in defence. “but he told me he wasn’t going to do any drugs” my eye slimmed as my heart kept cracking. It was getting closer and closer to shattering. “Maybe I should just stop talking” “no topper- please tell me what happened” I begged with my eyes, they were probably glossy in the moment. “You wanna know more? Or I can take you back to mine and I can show you how a real man treats a girl like you” he shinned at me.

“You’re a pig” I stepped back scowling at him. “Let me know if you change your mind babe, I can be a rebound” he winked at me before pulling away from the curb and driving on. I watched as his car got smaller and smaller down the road. My eyes were fighting back the waves right now. My heart physically hurt. I turned back the way I’d come and went straight back home. I bravely walked past my parents but as soon as I reached my bed my eyes started leaking. I didn’t bother changing I just flopped onto my mattress and cried into it. My covers still smelt of Rafe. That made everything worse.

—————————four days later————————

I’d avoided Rafe for four days. He’d spammed my phone for the first two, the texts got less and less over the next two days. Probably because he came to my house and I got my father to turn him away. Nothings more scary than the dad of the girl you’ve hurt. I’d seen him around school but I dodge him and was able to hide anytime he saw me. I’d turn the other way, drive off as quickly as possible. Left no room for him to start conversation. I didn’t want to talk to him, look at him, fall for him again by him waving a wand and saying sorry.

I had to be strong. But it was day five now meaning we’d reached Friday. And this Friday was the film night. Me and my friends had been planning out the snacks and the chairs and the pillows and the blankets we were bringing for months now. There was no way I could get out of it. There was a possibility Rafe would be there, it wouldn’t be a hundred percent but there was a chance.

The car stopped in the car park and the girls got out with all our stuff, ready to find a space and set it all down. “Y/n do you wanna go get the drinks?” One of my friends asked with a big smile. I nodded feeling slightly hesitant. They wouldn’t let me use Rafe as an excuse, none of them were surprised when I told them what happened. It was kind of disheartening, I thought my friends would be way more supportive. I wondered towards the drinks table before hearing a “y/n! what’s up”. I turn around to see Rafe walking away from his boy group and towards me. He tried to do it calmly acting like he didn’t care in front of his friends “Rafe- um- not much” I turned from him giving him my back. But I could see the panic on his face.

He raced in front to catch me so I was looking at him “how are you, why are you avoiding me?” He questioned looking down at me. Our bodies were almost touching and he was leaning in close to my face whispering. I got goosebumps. “I should have known you were playing a game Rafe” I folded my arms creating space between us. “What are you talking about y/n, I can’t get you off my mind, what games” his hand flew up to his temple as if he was desperate. His eyes looked sad as he stared directly into mine. It wasn’t like that day he was at mine, they were desperate now not flirty. “Uh it’s such a shame Rafe- I really thought we had something” I shook my head stepping backwards.

“Top told me what happened at the party Rafe”. The words felt like I was being stabbed in the heart all over again. I wanted to melt into the floor. His eyes widened and his teeth gritted together. He really looked like he was going to give up and admit what he’d done. “The fuck you mean topper told you? Told you what?” Rafe shook his head pulling a face of disgust as if I didn’t know what I was talking about. I just laughed and began to walk off. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back staring into my eyes hard. “Y/n, I didn’t do anything at that party, I promise” “that’s not what he told me”. Rafe looked across at the boys before saying “Come on then” he interlocked our fingers and pulled me over to his group.

“Rafe- please no” I shook my head trying to pull back. “I’ve got you I promise” he rubbed my my hand. “Top, what is this about you telling y/n I was doing shit at the party, what type of shit?” Rafe question raising an eyebrow. All the boys turned to look at topper. He looked around before looking me up and down. I was wearing Jean shorts and a little lacy white top, his glare always felt so sexualising and uncomfortable. He started laughing as if he didn’t know what to say, his arms came out and then slapped his knees.

“Does anyone else remember me doing shit at the party?” He looked around the group and all the boys either shook their heads or shrugged. “So- why’d you stop replying to me?” I asked him in a small, innocent voice. “Around eleven?” Kelce asked me, I nodded my head a bit confused about how he knew. “Rafes phone died so he went to put it on charge in the kitchen, but we were outside”. I turned back to rafe and he was looking at me already, as if to say I told you so. I self consciously wrapped my arms around my waist. He saw this and took a step closer to me putting an arm on my shoulder blade.

Rafe then turned back to topper “what the hell did you say bro?” “I may have indicated that you did some drugs- and acted- un loyally” topper shrugged with a smirk on his face not caring at all that he’d caused massive problems between me and Rafe. “Why would you lie to me? I’ve never done wrong by you topper” I frowned furiously, wanting to know the why behind all this. “Same reason rafe’s with you, to get you into bed” he shrugged as if that wasn’t disgustingly downgrading, uncouth and disrespectful. I stood there horrified, my stomach twisted.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that” Rafe made a massive step towards topper but the boys all jumped up and held him back. “Calm the fuck down Rafe, she’s just a girl” “she’s my fucking girl topper! You remember that!” rafe pointed at him angrily shouting and struggling against the boys. At this point lots of people were looking towards our little group. “You’re telling me you actually have feelings for her?” Topper threw his head back laughing.

“Yes! I fucking do! And you almost ruined it, your a selfish bastard- get the fuck out of here” Rafe pulled away from the boys backing up next to me again. “Rafe calm down- I didn’t think it was that deep” “it is” he replied, still pointing at him in furry. “Go home” Rafe ordered moving his hand now to the truck. Topper looked around for support from the other boys but he didn’t receive it. “Fine, god you’re so sensitive these days” topper rolled his eyes picking up his chair.

Rafe watched as he packed up his things and got into his car without looking back. “I can’t believe he’d make shit up because he wanted to sleep with your girl” kelce scoffed watching as the car drove away. “I promise you y/n nothing happened at that party, you have this guy wrapped around your finger, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, you’re all he talks about, the way he smiles when you text him- I’ve never seen him like this” kelce relayed to me confidently, making Rafe stand there awkwardly rubbing his arm and turning bright red.

“Shall we go and talk?” I smiled genuinely brushing his arm with one finger, Rafe nodded his head and threw his arm around my shoulders like a scarf as we left. But before we did he gave a little head nod to his friend as a sign of respect to him. Me and Rafe went over to the side of the field where it was a little quieter. We sat down on a bench and I took his hand playing with his fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just- speak to you about it” I sighed talking in a small voice, I was embarrassed about how I handled the situation.

“Y/n I’m not mad at you, I’m not surprised you believe him I know I- have a reputation” rafe chewed on his lip, looking around. “But I’m done with all that, túnel visón now only, ya know” he nodded to make sure I agreed with him. “You really like me?” “There’s no words for how much I like you babe, but yeah let’s go with that” he smirked, I put my hand on his cheek and mirrored his smirk before leaning in to kiss him.

He kissed me like he thought he’d never have the chance to again. He kissed me like he had missed me and that I loved. I matched his energy feeling my insides grow butterfly’s and my cheeks get hot. “I really like you back Rafe” I whispered leaning my forehead against his. “So no more secrets? Let’s be official, that way you can come to the parties with me” he smirked rubbing my cheek with his rough thumb. I nodded excitedly throwing my arms around his neck hugging him.

“Gosh, the privilege of being your first girlfriend” I giggled. He squeezed me “first and last, babe”.

Rafe Cameron masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of masterlists

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eunoiaflow3r · 10 months

Text

trade - fred weasley x reader

requests open!

taglist

warning(s): language, not edited, smut

word count: 1.1k

request(ed): “rough sex with fred? 😊”

summary: kitchen sex lol

————————————————————————————

Summers for you meant counting down the days til the cooler weather and staying with the Weasley’s. Your first year you became really close with Hermione and hence Harry and Ron as well. The four of you became a unit and would hardly be seen without each other.

Right now, you were in the Weasley’s kitchen late at night looking for some juice. Usually it’d be gone, but you saved yourself some and hid it from everyone so you could drink it later…except now you couldn’t find it at all.

“Looking for this?” You turned to find Fred, shirtless, pajama pants hanging low, with your mason jar of juice in his hand. Everyone knew you liked drinking out of them so you know Fred knows it’s yours.

“Give it up Fred…” Your relationship with Fred was rocky. He played pranks on you most times, and teased you others. Still, you couldn’t deny the attraction even though he annoyed the hell out of you.

You walk towards him and try to grab your drink but he holds it way over your head making it impossible for you to reach. You try but notice your shirt going up as you do.

He grins.

“That’s mine ya’know.”

“Molly gave it to me.” you say.

“Hmm, looks better on you.”

He takes a sip of your juice and you know he’s behaving this way to tease you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you he was mentally undressing you. You knew what this was going to lead to.

He takes a step closer to you and places his hands on your waist. Once he sees you have no objection he switches you two around so that your now pressed agains the counter.

Fred leans down so that his mouth was next to your ear. “How about a trade…shirt for juice?”

Before you could answer he was pressing kisses down your neck and kissing the exposed skin as he unbuttoned the shirt. You tried hard not to moan but let a few slip..this only egged him on. You forgot all about the juice as his mouth went lower down your body until he had you lifted on the counter and he was right above your pussy.

“May I?” he asks.

“Please…”

He gently slides off your panties and tucks them in his pocket discreetly. He presses wet kisses along your thighs until finally making his way back to your pussy where he takes urgency to your clit, not wasting any time as he flicks it with his tongue. You cover your mouth with your hand as to keep the moans in and after a couple minutes you just couldn’t take it anymore. He was doing a marvelous job, but you wanted more.

“Fred, fred, fuck me please.” You whisper.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”

He helps you down from the counter and kisses you, hard, his hand finds your hair and pulls so that you were completely in his control staring up at him while his tongue danced with yours.

He spun you around so that you were facing the counter.

“Bend over for me baby.”

He massages one of your breasts while he reaches for a condom from his pockets. Why he has one just in there…you don’t know but you were growing impatient. You wanted him…bad.

He pulls down his pants and you could tell he was rubbing himself but you were too nervous to turn around and look. You could hear as he rolled the condom on and anticipated his next move.

“You ready?”

You already knew you were wet enough - his mouth had made sure of it - you were so ready.

You nod.

“Wanna hear you say it love.”

“I’m ready Fred, please give it to me.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He pulled your hips towards him so that you were leaning forwards more, and pressed the head of his cock into your pussy. He pushed in and again, you covered your mouth to hide your moan. He kept going and you wondered if it was ever going to stop. He felt so good and he was so long you wanted to scream.

Once he was all the way in he paused, wanting you adjusted, until he pulled out again and started to keep a rhythm. He leant towards you and you could hear him moan which only turned you on more.

“Fuck baby you feel so good, so wet for me right now.”

And you were. You could hear it. And fuck did you never want this to stop. You were reaching towards the counter, towards anything that might steady you - he began to go faster, rougher, he pulled your hair and moaned your name and you wondered if he was worried about getting caught but also feeling yourself nearing climax.

He hit that spot in you every time and you were almost there. Almost.

“Harder Freddy, please…fuck me harder.”

“Shit.”

Fred casted a protection and silencing spell on the kitchen. There was no way he could continue without exposing the two of you. You wanted it hard? That’s the way you were going to get it.

He pulled you back more so now your body was angled and he slowed his rhythm while rubbing your clit. Once your moans were steady again he went faster until you were practically wanting to scream, and squeezing his cock.

“Fuck, I’m going to come Fred. I’m gonna come.”

“You gonna come? Let’s do it together Y/N.”

He rubs your clit faster and you can feel yourself black out as pleasure overwhelms you. When he feels you squeeze his cock as you cum he pulls out moaning as he cums into the condom.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck.”

You smile as you try to calm yourself down. You were both sweaty and breathing uncontrollably. You could barely even stand anymore. You leaned against the counter and watched as he tugged his pants on and threw the condom away. He found you the shirt and helped you put it on and button it up.

“My panties?” You ask. He thinks you didn’t see him steal them but you did.

“Mmm gotta trade me something for them.”

You roll your eyes.

“A kiss?” he asks.

You smile and reach up so that your hands were on either side of his face and you bring him down so that you can kiss him. It was long and deep and almost had you ready for part two.

You pulled away and he fake pouted. You walked towards your drink and took a long drink. Fred came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, while pressing kisses against your neck.

“Come to bed with me? I can give you a more comfortable shirt…less buttons?”

#harry potter smut #harry potter #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley smut #fred wealsey x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #harry potter fandom #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst

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northsoulss · 4 months

Note

the media thinking reader is in a relationship w some popular male footballer but she's actually with elisa and they soft (or hard) launch their relationship 🤭🤭

mon amour - elisa de almeida

(a/n : here it is! hopefully this is what you had in mind lol. this is quite a long one. writing this hit home, so i quite like how it turned out! thanks for the request xoxo)

growing up in a relatively conservative town, you never had the chance to express your identity as a queer individual. it was a constant internal battle, thinking something was wrong with you for liking someone of the same gender. things became more complicated when you began liking football, it being seen as more of a boy-ish sport.

thankfully, your hometown had a small women’s youth football club, and you begged your parents to allow you to sign on, which they begrudgingly accepted. hoping to meet other queer women, you went into football hopeful, but your ideas were quickly shut down when you realised a lot of them were straight. you continuously struggled with your sexuality as you grew up, fear taking over whenever you had the opportunity to come out. so you never did, remaining closeted for all your teenage years.

as you began to advance and become better at football, you wanted to make it a career, to do it professionally. eventually when you signed with psg a year ago, it was undoubtedly the best decision of your life. after moving to france, you finally got to experience a proper queer community with supportive people. you still made no move to come out, for you realised that there was no need to put it out there; to let everyone know that you were queer. so long as you were contented with what you identified as, nothing else really mattered. or so you thought.

over time as you became more popular and well known, you began to see that there are many upsides and downsides to being a public figure. on one hand, you have formed close bonds with other footballers of both genders and experienced nothing like you could have ever imagined. on the other hand, every time you posted something vaguely couple-ly with one of your friends, especially the guys, your fans would go nuts.

“is she dating him?”, “i knew they were together!” were the very common comments you would get when posting pictures with you and another footballer, who happened to be one of your very good guy friends, _(insert male name)_ , whom you hung out with quite often. you decided that one day you were sick of the comments, and posted something for pride, saying that you were proud to be a queer woman. lo and behold, that did not stop the comments.

lady luck must have been on your side for your team has been nothing but incredibly supportive of you coming out. at the same time, one of your teammates took this chance to snag you, and surprise, surprise. you fell head over heels for the woman and have been dating ever since.

you have decided to lay low for the first few months, trying your hardest not to post anything that would make the fans suspicious. however, one day you decided had enough of the speculations.

it was a lazy saturday, you and elisa were out at a quaint neighbourhood cafe having brunch, just enjoying the warm summer weather. it had been a few days after your 6 month anniversary, and you just couldn’t get enough of her. so, as sneakily as you could, you snapped a picture of her looking off into the distance, watching the kids at the playground goofing around with a small smile. too bad your phone wasn’t silenced, so a loud shutter sound was made and caused elisa to whip her head around.

she locks eyes with you, and you must have had the guiltiest expression on your face, because she immediately broke out in laughter. “what are you doing baby?” she laughs harder as your face reddens, her taking your hand in hers and rubbing small circles with her thumb.

“you just looked really good okay!” you defend yourself defiantly, showing her the photo that you took. she gives you a knowing look, before turning away to continue looking at the scenery around, a small smirk on her lips. there was a comfortable silence amongst you two, but your mind started to wonder. for a while now, you’ve been meaning to ask elisa about announcing your relationship. you were sick and tired on hiding things and being so secretive, but you were scared. you enjoy the privacy, the intimate looks given to each other across the room, the subtle electrifying touches on the pitch when you’re standing next to each other. you just don’t want to ruin things-

“what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” elisa breaks you out of your thoughts, head tilted slightly to take a look at you. you were oddly silent for a while, and when elisa turned back around to see what you were doing, you were just staring into space, a dazed look on your face.

you swallow dryly, taking a deep breath. “i think i want to announce our relationship.” you say quickly, averting eye contact with her. you felt her hand tighten around yours, interlocking your fingers with hers. you look up at her timidly from your lap, and you see lines of worry etched onto her face. her brows furrowed slightly, her mouth in a taunt line.

“are you sure about this?” she questions, concern clear as day in her voice. she knew about your past, and you were the one who was more worried about the relationship compared to her. now that you were bringing this up, she had every right to be concerned.

“well, i’m just sick of people thinking i’m dating that meathead. i’m not. i’m dating you. you’re the one i love.” the moment the last sentence left your mouth, elisa swore her heart skipped a beat.

“a-are you very sure? there’s no going back after you announce this you know?” she looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of uncertainty or hesitation, but all she saw was determination.

“i’m sure, baby.” you smile at her, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of her hand. at that moment, elisa was so proud of you. you have come so far, and she knew how big of a step this was for you — to publicly announce that you were in a relationship with another woman.

“i’m proud of you, mon amour.” she wore a warm smile, eyes crinkled, the midday sunlight hitting her facial features just right. you pick up your phone to snap a picture, and this time you did not shy away from her, even asking her to give you her best smile.

before you left the cafe, you quickly posted it, tagging her and titling the caption as “the love of my life, @/elisadealmeida5. mon amour.🤍” of course, the fans were not impressed, but you didn’t care, for you were finally proud to be loud about your identity and your relationship, and the press and media are not going to get in the way of that.

later that night, as you lay in bed with your head on her chest, you get a phone call from your good guy friend. elisa raises a brow at you, and you shrug, picking it up and putting him on speaker.

“yo what’s up! you’re on speaker by the way.”

“you just had to do a hard launch huh?” he cuts to the chase, tone teasing, but proud. you groan, your hand coming up to cover your face.

“ugh c’mon! they were shipping me with you out of all people!” you tease back, looking at elisa who was staring at you, admiration in her eyes. you give her a soft smile, pressing a small kiss on her cheek.

“yeah, yeah, i know. proud of you, short stack. tell elisa i said hi!” and with that, he hung up. not long after, you received an instagram notification where he replied to your post. “i told you so.. what a man child.” you read his comment and smile knowingly, and put your phone away, turning around to face elisa again when she grabs your face and kisses you hard. you gasp into the kiss, melting into her lips. when she pulls away, she leans her forehead against yours, you panting slightly.

“i’ll say this again and again, and i know you’ll grow tired of it, but i’m so proud of you, mon amour, don’t forget that.” she finishes her sentence with another passionate kiss to your lips, smiling into the kiss.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almeida fluff #elisa de almeida psg #lgbtqia #psg feminines x reader #psg feminines #psg women #psg football #psg #woso fluff #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #wlw #wlw post #wlw love

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blegh-110 · 2 years

Text

Have I found you, flightless bird? (1/?)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Summary: A compulsive psychopath takes an interest in you and will do anything to have you all to himself.

Chapter Warnings: Stalking, bullying, obsessive behavior, criminal activity, murder, violence, bad parents (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Yeah so I thought I wasn’t going to be able to finish this until Wednesday, but I was surprisingly able to write. This is the very first time I am writing a fan fictions, so I’m begging on my knees for you to be nice and respectful. This first chapter is really going to be backstory and setting the scene. And please keep in mind Tangerine’s accent, it makes the reading fun. It’s also unedited. Happy reading! :)

There were no words to describe the ache and tiredness in your body as you slowly walked towards the train station. Your day at work was awful to say the least, with the amount of extremely rude customers and your masochist co-workers, you had broken down in the freezer of the fancy restaurant three times. Each silent cry had made you increasingly tired, both mind and body, so you wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed and let it all out.

Unfortunately, that would not happen for a while, as you lived a long distance away from your workplace. The reminder of this had almost made the tears in your eyes fall in frustration, but by some miracle, you took a deep breath and kept them at bay.

You breathed a sigh of happiness as you spotted the Bullet Train and almost started crying again, but out of relief instead of tiredness. You were excited when the train was first built, it was marketed as the fastest train in the world, which meant you would get to your small apartment in about an hour instead of two. The train was also incredibly nicer than the one before it; the seats were more comfortable with the hard plastic traded in for fabric, there was a nice woman who served snacks and drinks every thirty minutes, it was cleaner, and just overall better.

One perk about your job was that all workers received a Bullet Train card with unlimited rides, which you were thankful for. The regular cost of going back and forth between your work and home everyday was far too expensive. There was also a discount for the snacks and drinks the woman brings around, which you would often take advantage of to keep yourself awake for the ride home.

You quickened your steps as you got closer to the train, wanting to sit down, eat a fish-shaped biscuit, and get out of the harsh, cold wind. Which reminded you of another thing; you needed to get another jacket, the one who had on was doing absolutely nothing to shield you from the weather.

Although there were many negatives for you living on your own in Japan, the one positive was that you were away from your family, as harsh as that may sound. Your mother and father weren’t particularly happy to hear that you were studying abroad in Japan, then again, they were never happy nor satisfied with anything you did. No matter how hard you tried at anything, they never showed any interest or care, they were always too caught up in each other.

They fought. A lot. And that messed you up badly. From the shouting and door slamming, to one of them being gone for days at a time because they couldn’t stand the other. It all took place at night, which made you nervous to fall asleep. You were awakened countless times in the middle of the night to your mother and father shouting at one another, it had made you anxious to fall asleep and frightened of loud noises. Then the morning would come, where they would act like nothing had happened and like they did not just traumatize their child. And it would start all over again the next week.

The worst part was that you didn’t know how not normal all that was. After complaining to your mother that you don’t like them fighting and going away, she would respond with, “Couples fight, it’s normal.”

No comfort or solace to your distress and anxiety. And you went on with your day, shaken up from the events but it was ingrained into your head that there was nothing to be upset about because couples screaming and throwing things and leaving is normal.

As you stepped onto the train, the warm air and clean smell made you feel better emotionally. Only an hour of waiting, and you would be in your apartment and mattress on the floor. You sat down and got comfortable, not noticing the blue eyes staring at the back of your head from the door.

—

Two Months Prior

You sat motionless in your seat, getting lost in the blur of the world through the window. It was an easy way to turn off your brain for a small while and just stare at the many lights and people, it was nice. But you were pulled back to reality when you heard another voice with a thick accent.

“Fuckin’ hell, stupid asshole. I can’t get a fuckin’ break with this prick, I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the man’s language as you heard his heavy footsteps come closer, only for him to stop abruptly when he noticed you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I–” The man paused when he got a good look at you, and you didn’t notice it, but he was transfixed by you. And the feeling was mutual. You had never seen such a gorgeous and handsome man as the one standing in front of your seat. His frame was huge, covered by a pretty blue suit and eyes, his hair was medium length and slicked back. But what really got your attention, surprisingly, was his thick mustache. You were never really attracted to mustaches, much less the 90’s pornstache, but it was the cherry on top of all his good looks. While you were mesmerized by him, he had gotten a hold of his words and continued.

“I didn’t see there was a lady in here, my apologies for my language, love.” He said softly and walked away quickly, leaving you in a small daze. The combination of his looks and change from a harsh to a gentle tone gave you butterflies, the thought of someone changing their whole demeanor to make you comfortable was nice.

And love. He had called you love. Love. Love. Love

Although the interaction lasted not even fifteen seconds, you were replaying it all in your head and analyzing every small detail, not wanting to forget the small amount of time that someone extremely attractive gave you the tiniest amount of attention, respectfully.

You had forgotten about him throughout the next few days as you had more important things to think about. The same could not be said for him.

He had the tendency to be compulsive and take stuff, taking what he wanted as soon as he saw it without asking and no apologies. He liked the thrill of stealing, it gave him a sense of accomplishment for outsmarting the owner or the system, it was an addicting feeling for his ego.

And other times, most times, it was for no reason and his body worked faster than his brain, going immediately for the item without thinking. Soon enough his brain turns on and he asks himself why he did it, which is then followed by a short scolding from his brother. Through it all, he never really regrets taking what he wants, it was just another thing for him to mess with and kill time, and maybe be of use.

But this was said for small, unimportant items; snacks, toys, pens. But never was he interested in taking a person. In fact, he was really never interested in people anyway, the only exception was his brother. And now, apparently you ever since that first interaction.

It was very late in the night when that happened. Someone had taken the suitcase filled with money from him and his brother, and their stress would only increase when their employer would check up on them and make sure they had the money. So he was on the lookout for the one who had taken it.

His focus should’ve solely been on the job, and murdering the thief with his bare hands, but his mind would wander to the pretty girl he saw earlier. He had seen many different people in his life, but something inside, the compulsive part, wanted you. And like the previous times he’d taken something, there really was no reason why he wanted you, he just did.

As he walked away, his mind and body were screaming to go back, toss you over his shoulder and continue on. But he was on a very serious mission, and he didn’t want anything to happen to you. He eventually got the suitcase back, shooting the man who had taken it. Before going back to the carriage he was sitting in, he would have to pass you again. He quickly went to the small bathroom, wiped the blood off his face, fixed his hair, and smoothed out his suit.

To say he was disappointed when you didn’t notice him the second time around would be an understatement. He was livid. How could your attention be through the window and not him? Especially when he went out of his way to look decent for you? That would need to change, he thought to himself as he slammed the briefcase on the table and sat down. The carriage he was in was next to yours, so he had the perfect view of the back of your head if he looked through the glass window of the door. As he was thinking of different ways to snatch you without anybody noticing, his brother came into view, sitting across from him.

“Oh, good. You’ve got the case. I was getting worried there for a second. You really are a right Thomas, Tangerine. Hardworking and cheeky and all that, you know, you should try to watch it sometime. You barely sat through the fir–”

“Lemon, could you shut the fuck up right now? I can hardly hear myself think with that shit your talking about-”

“How could I forget your kindness and compassion? Jesus, I don’t remember Thomas being a massive dickhead-”

“And I don’t remember giving a fuck about Thomas the Tank Engine. Now, shut your mouth before I shoot m’own head off, fuckin’ twat.” Tangerine rolled his eyes and stared at you again like you would vanish into thin air if he took his eyes off you.

Lemon smiled mischievously, he loved to push Tangerine’s buttons. It was a good way to pass time and amuse himself, and he knew Tangerine didn’t mean any of the harsh words he said. Not about killing himself at least. While thinking of his next choice of words to piss him off more, he noticed that look in his brother’s eyes. The one where he was ready to pounce, attack, then kill.

He got nervous, wondering if Tangerine hadn’t finished the job and failed to kill whoever took the briefcase. Lemon followed his eyes and they landed on you in the next carriage.

“That the one who took the briefcase?” Lemon asked, ready to put a bullet in your head, he was already standing up. “What, no-”

“Don’t worry, you sit tight and I’ll get the fucker.” Lemon whipped out his gun and almost made it to the door when he was suddenly tugged back down so roughly that he almost fell to the ground. “What the fuck are you doin’? Sit back down, you wanker. She didn’t take the case.” Tangerine hissed and released his deathly grip on Lemon’s jacket with a shove.

“I said sit back down, asshole. God, do you ever think before pulling out a gun and shooting the first person you see?”

“I don’t know, do you ever stop and think before you take something and shove it up your ass? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were ready to kidnap that woman.” One thing Lemon was exceptional at was reading people like they were an open book, a skill taught to him by Thomas the Tank Engine. Which meant he could easily see that that was what Tangerine was currently planning on.

“C’mon, mate. You can’t be seri– you better be pulling my dick.” Lemon whispered, taken aback by his brother’s actions. He knew very well of Tangerine’s compulsive stealing, and he knew he was good at it. It came in handy when they needed to steal something important for their missions. And despite slapping Tangerine’s wrist when he would commit petty theft or larceny, it was slightly entertaining. And the times he did kidnap someone, they would plan it together and execute it together, but only if they were relevant to their missions. And you were not relevant to them at all.

“No, I know, I know.” Tangerine sat back down with surrending hands in the air, knowing what he was thinking was fucked up. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t going to put salt in the wound and rub it in.

“That is a real fuckin’ person right there, not one of your stupid bubbly waters or Momomon stuffed animals.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Tangerine defeatdly said and put his head in his hands, disappointed in his own thoughts and wants. Lemon sighed, he knew Tangerine didn’t want to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. So he decided to save time and do what he always did, help his brother.

“Why do you want this girl?” Lemon knew he wouldn’t receive a proper and detailed answer. Therefore, the shrug he got was no surprise. But he wouldn’t let Tangerine go through with the kidnapping without properly processing his thoughts.

“I don’t know, mate. You should’ve seen her. She looked so wretched and miserable and sad, I just want the poor little thing. It was like staring at a bunny that was run over and shot at.”

“Well, this could just be a bad day for her. Maybe she isn’t so sad all the time.”

“But what if she is?”

“Then she’ll get through it like all the adults in the world.”

“What if it’s too much for her?”

“What if what’s too much for her?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“And that’s the issue, Tangerine. You don’t know fuck about her and you want to save her or some shit. See if you really want her and you’re not going to toss her aside when the thrill is over, then you can be a fuckin’ hero or whatever.” Tangerine nodded his head as he watched you buy a fish shaped biscuit and a strawberry soda.

Lemon made some good points. Tangerine would need to know if what he was feeling wasn’t temporary, so he waited a week to see if his feelings had changed for you. And they hadn’t, they had only gotten stronger.

He woke up alone thinking of you wrapped up safely in his arms, to feeding you a healthy breakfast when he ate by himself, to jumping in his arms when he came back home from work, to fucking you when he was back in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. And all these thoughts only increased when he saw the state of your life.

After Tangerine realized he wanted to keep you, he shamelessly watched your every move for the next two months. He followed you to your apartment and to the exact number you were staying at. Because of your long hours at work and staying awake on the train, you were too sleepy to use all your senses to their full capacity. Tangerine shook his head at how you didn’t notice him following you, anyone could just come up to you and shove you into their room. Silly girl, he thought, you won’t have to feel this way anymore when I get my hands on you.

Next, after Tangerine found out your living place, he actually broke his way in after you had left for work, this time with Lemon. Your apartment was easy to get into, all he had to do was jiggle the knob a few times and roughly kick it open.

“What a fuckin’ shit hole, mate, she really lives here?” Lemon scrunched his nose at the stained brown walls and dirty carpet. He was also surprised at how small your place was and how little furniture you had. “Good god, her fuckin’ couch is missing a two of its feet and a cushion. This is no way to live, tsk, tsk.”

“Lemon, you’ve amputated limbs and killed people, and this has you shocked? I’d appreciate it if you’d shut the fuck up and help me out, yeah?” Tangerine said, making his way to your room.

“What exactly am I helping you out with?” He asked, turning around to the tiny kitchen and opening the fridge.

“Anything about her really, I just want to get to know her.” Tangerine shouted while studying your bedroom, trying to get a feel for your personality and what you like. A butterfly comforter with matching pillows but the mattress was on the floor, I’ll buy a similar bed set and you’ll sleep in my arms in an actual bed. Lots of books piled in the corner, I’ll get you the biggest bookshelf I can and I’ll start reading as well. Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury. The Awakening, Kate Chopin. A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf. Tangerine focused on memorizing each novel and its authors.

Next to your books were your CD’s. Tangerine did the same thing, taking the time to memorize your favorite artists and their albums. Next, he opened your closet, not much was there except five plain t-shirts and two pairs of jeans. And that was it. There wasn’t much else to do in your room as there were literally only a few items. And it took everything in him to stop himself from taking anything.

“And you think breaking into her house and snooping around is the way to do that?” Lemon snorted, snapping Tangerine out of thoughts. “Shit, man, does she eat? There’s nothing in here but water, butter, and tangerines-... tangerines. It must be fate.” His brother ignored him, heading to the bathroom where he found a toothbrush, toothpaste, cleanser, deoderant, shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash.

“Oh, I know why now. Her job doesn’t pay shit.” At this, Tangerine walked back to the living room to find Lemon holding what he assumed to be your paycheck.

“Lemme set that,” And he snatched the paper from his hand, “Y/N L/N. She works at Kaiseki Ryori. That’s like two hours away from here, what is she doing there?” Tangerine asked himself. That’s why you looked so tired. After a whole day of work you had to wait another two hours before getting home, wait no, one hour because of the Bullet Train.

After snooping around some more, Lemon reminded Tangerine that they had some business to attend to, some people to assassinate. On the way there, Tangerine was thinking of his next move, and he decided that going to your workplace would be good.

But he would have to wait another week as him and Lemon were piled with work to do. But that didn’t stop Tangerine from making sure you got home safely. Only a few nights allowed him to get on the Bullet Train and sit a few seats behind you, where he noticed you really enjoyed eating fish shaped biscuits and some sort of fruity soda, the flavor always changed.

Alternatively, if he didn’t have enough time to ride with you, he would break into your apartment in the middle of the night, to again, make sure you got back safely. But he could hardly do either because he had his own work to do and he couldn't afford to check in on you every night. So he installed a tiny camera in your living room, which was difficult to hide because you had barely anything in your apartment. He was about to put the second camera in your bedroom, but decided against it, he didn’t want to be too invasive.

A month had passed and he was glad he installed the cameras, it really was much easier to see if you were in your apartment through his phone. He smiled at your sleepy state going to the kitchen and eating a tangerine, thinking you were the most adorable person he had ever seen.

He was sitting outside across from your complex. He had finally had a day off and planned on watching you some more, this time at your workplace, Kaiseki Ryori. While waiting, he watched you get ready through the phone.

Although Tangerine found your tiredness cute, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you having to get up extremely early for work. And also the fact that you don’t eat much for breakfast because you couldn't afford anything else besides fruit and water.

This will change soon when you have me, darling. I’ll have a nice, big breakfast ready for you when you wake up every morning.

He had also made up his mind about you working in your soon to be relationship, you simply were not going to. You weren’t going to do anything but be his and only his. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about your job.

He watched as you walked through your apartment door. Tangerine turned his phone off and waited for you to exit the complex. Just then, his phone had alerted him that he had gotten a message from Lemon.

🍋: how’s it going? Did you get your ticket

🍊: pretty good, just waiting for her to come out of her building. Then I’m following her to Kaiseki Ryori. And yes I got my ticket

🍋: how romantic, just don't let her see you

🍊: no fucking shit, I’d be stupid to let that happen

He rolled his eyes and put his phone away when he heard the doors open, his heart stuttering at the sight of you as well as hurting when he saw that you were obviously freezing cold in your thin jacket. Tangerine didn’t want to get too close in fear of being seen by you, so he waited until you turned a corner to start trailing behind.

Various bakeries and cafes were open, one of them he saw you going into for the first time, staring wide eyed at the fresh pastries. You were in there for only a few minutes, chatting with the male barista behind the counter. Whom, Tangerine will admit, was quite attractive and way too close to you and smiling way too much. He watched as you laughed at something the man said, Tangerine’s anger was increasing as the seconds went by. Shouldn’t your fucking drink be ready by now? How can you even afford that shit anyway with your pay?

Just as he was about to enter the cafe and shoot the barista between his eyes, Tangerine’s phone range. Fucking Lemon again.

“What the fuck do need that’s so fuckin’ important?” Tangerine hissed into the phone and placed his gun back into his pocket as he continued to stare at the two of you having a lovely time talking about whatever. He started to calm down as he saw the barista finally give you your food and drink. You walked out of the cafe with a small smile as the hot drink warmed up your hands.

“Calm down, mate. I was calling to tell you about her boss, it’s not good.” At this, Tangerine‘s full attention was on his brother. But as soon as you were a good distance away, he walked into the cafe. “Hold on.”

“Good morning, what can I get for you?” The barista, Axel, his nametag wrote, said with a smile. Stupid fuckin’ name.

“I’ll just have whatever the last person had.” Tangerine said, rolling his eyes, his anger and annoyance rising again for having to talk to Axel.

“Okay, that’s a chocolate croissant and a small caramel macchiato, is that goo-”

“Yes, that’s fuckin’ fine,” He couldn’t stand hearing him talk, he wished Lemon hadn’t called so he could’ve shot Axel and his stupid face. He spoke to Lemon “Alright, what did you find?”

“Who are you talking to? Do you need me to come down there?”

“No, Lemon, I’m fine. I won’t fuckin’ ask again, what did you find on her boss?” Tangerine was full-on irritated. And swearing in every sentence he said showed that. He just wanted to get to you as quickly as possible, but what's-his-face and Lemon were in the way of that. Even though they really weren’t doing anything. When Tangerine was mad, he took it out on everything.

“Shit, alright. I found that this man, Akihito, has a criminal record. Robbery, grand theft auto, harrassment, fucking manslaughter, and the list goes on, mate.”

“Jesus fucking christ, alright. I’ll deal with the asshole later. Can you hurry the fuck up, please? I’ve got shit to do.” He yelled at the worker, who scrambled to pour milk in his caramel macchiato.

“It’s ironic since the guy’s name means brightness and compassion, I’ll tell you Tangerine, he’s no Thom-”

“Lemon, if you mention that shit show again, I swear the next time I see you, I’ll shove my gun up your ass and shoot. And I’ll do it with a fuckin’ smile on my face.” Then he hung up with an annoyed groan.

“H-here you go, sir.”

“Where the fuck is my croissant, I swear to god-” Tangerine wanted to smash this guy’s head onto the counter as he watched the man hurriedly grab his pastry and place it in a bag. Can he do anything right, what do you see in him? It better be nothing, love.

“Thank you for takin’ your sweet fuckin’ time, mate, I really appreciate it, ya cunt.” Tangerine snatched the bag and drink, surely crushing his croissant, and quickly made his way out the door before he heard a quiet mutter. “Asshole.”

Tangerine froze with his hand on the door and snapped inside, he was filled with so much rage that he could feel his face flush and heart beat. He slowly took his hand off the bar of the door and turned around, seeking just a small bit of joy out of the pure terror on Axel’s face.

“I beg your pardon… what did you call me? Because if I heard your correct, you called me an asshole. And that’s a lot of nerve for someone who works minimum fuckin’ wage, how about you do your fuckin’ job right and I won’t shoot you, hm?” Tangerine pulled out his gun and held it to Axel’s forehead.

At this point, Tangerine’s words were shot to kill. He didn’t care if Axel or another customer would call the cops. His patience had quickly worn thin and he wanted to make Axel pay for it.

Axel nodded his head with tears in eyes and violently shook from fear. Tangerine hummed, satisfied, but still held the gun up.

“What’s that right there?” Tangerine motioned his head to the glass cabinet. “T-that’s daifuku, sir.”

Tangerine shook his head, urging him to continue while he cocked his gun, “Yeah, and what the fuck is it, c’mon I already told you I don’t have all day.”

Axel’s tears flowed down his face and his breathing stuttered as he tried to keep himself composed, “it’s m-mochi stuffed with anko and d-different fillings including, strawberries, jam, or coffee-flavored filling.”

“Gimme the coffee-flavored one,” Tangerine said and kept his eyes on Axel the entire time, he wanted to pressure him more in case he messed up again. Then he’ll have more reason to keep on torturing him. When he got his treat, he put his gun back into his jacket pocket, but not before taking the stack of napkins on the counter.

“I’m not paying for it, asshole,” And he walked out and looked at his surroundings, making sure no one saw the whole exchange, “miracle no one saw that.” And he finally made his way to the Bullet Train.

When he got there, he noticed you sitting through one of the windows, eating your croissant and sipping your drink, still with tired eyes. And once again, Tangerine was swooning. His bad mood slipped away with every step he took.

Tangerine did what he always did when he got on the train with you, stay far away enough to keep an eye on you. And that was it. For the whole hour the train traveled, all he did was watch you. And while he felt happy to see you, you dreaded going to work.

For the whole time you worked there, the ride to Kaiseki Ryori filled your stomach with an anxious burn that stayed there until you clocked out. Then you would sit back on the train, exhausted but thankful that the day was over. But then reminded that you would have to go in the next day, and then the next, and then the next. And the anxiousness as well as the depression would return.

You often wondered when your life would change for the better. When would you finally save enough money to buy a new, bigger, cleaner place? When would you find a new job that didn’t make you cry everyday in the bathroom? When would you meet a group of people that could be your friends?

You just wanted to feel content when you woke up. But you awake thinking God, I have to do this all again?

You thrived on praise, on people telling you that you were doing a great job. It gave you a small push of confidence that led to you feeling good about yourself and made you willingly work harder. But with no friends or decent people around you to give you support, it was impossible to feel positive and optimistic.

Along with this, you were incredibly lonely in the love department. Not only did you want someone to love and appreciate you, you wanted to give love to someone else so desperately. Someone who would do anything and everything just to see you. This would also give you another reason to be happy. Since you came to Japan, there has been an empty hole in your chest waiting to be fulfilled with the love you felt for someone.

This combination of low self-esteem and loneliness, as well as the lack of money, made it difficult for you to go out and enjoy yourself. There were a few times when you mustered up the courage to get out of the safety and familiarity of your apartment and go to one or two shops, but that was only two or three times a month. You would go straight back to your small apartment after seeing a group of friends that were your age eating and laughing together, happy together. The same thing was said when you saw a happy couple walking down the street, holding hands and staring at another with so much love that you felt a mixture of jealousy and nausea.

If these didn’t make you feel bad about yourself, then going to your favorite shops and seeing that you couldn’t afford anything made you go back. You would get overwhelmed seeing a beautiful dress or a cute t-shirt, and knowing you didn’t have enough money for it. Or a book you’ve been wanting to read or the newest phone or a better stereo for your cd’s or a flat screen tv.

There were even times when you didn’t even make it to the next street because you felt as if everyone knew how pitiful your life was and they were laughing at your misery. Those days were especially bad. You would go back to your apartment, crawl into bed and cry for hours. Crying because you felt pathetic for not even being able to walk down the street, crying because you had no one to wrap their arms around you, crying because there was no one in your life to tell you that it will eventually get better and that you were a strong person to get out of bed everyday and face a mean world.

Tangerine knew of your many crying sessions, it shattered his heart into a million pieces everytime he heard your choked sobs and stuttered breathing. It somehow hurt even more not being able to see you, as you were in your room, he couldn’t even see the state of your agony and pretend he was there. Lemon would have to hold him down and stop him from running to your complex, breaking in, and giving you the love you craved.

You sighed heavily when you realized the train had slowed down at your stop. The mental preparation on the way there was never enough, you could already feel the headache on its way and the exhaustion deep in your bones.

The walk to Kaiseki Ryori was hard. You knew what was to come in about ten minutes, that’s why you took your time walking. But you always felt guilty for this. Although you weren’t treated nicely at work, something inside your head reprimanded you if you decided to give yourself a break. It was your brain telling you that you didn’t deserve to be selfish for even a few minutes, maybe it was the pressure you and others put upon yourself in highschool to always work to your fullest extent. And that no one got anywhere in life if they decided to take a minute for themselves.

You arrived at the restaurant and you saw two of the cooks walking together. They saw you and you immediately wanted the ground to swallow you.

“Hey, Y/N. Really cold out today, huh? I really like your jacket by the way.” One of them said with a smile on their face while the other one snickered. You gave them a tight lipped smile. You weren’t stupid, you knew they were actually making fun of you. And it sucked knowing you couldn’t call them out on it because they were being passive aggressive. If you dared talk back, they would make themselves a victim and say they were only giving you a compliment and that you should be thankful, and you would look like the asshole.

Then they would run to the boss and say you were being rude to them, and you would get called into his office for a little chat about your future working at Kaiseki Ryori. This chat included Akihito telling you that you need to be nicer to your co-workers or you would be fired. He also told you the first time that you needed to be a better waitress, and he sent you on your way back with no advice on how to become better.

“I’ll get the door for you, Y/N, there you go.” The other cook smiled and held it open for you and you knew what they were about to do. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

“Y/N, you’ve had this talk before, don’t be ungrateful and I won’t tell Akihito.” God, they were like fourth graders that never grew up, you thought. How could they be so immature and nasty at their age, they were older than you and acted this way.

You sighed in defeat and walked through the door. Even though they have done this countless times, your heart always stopped when one of them stepped on the back of your shoe roughly and made you fall on your hands and knees on the dirty floor of the kitchen. This time, your boss had walked by. You were hopeful he saw the whole situation and would finally believe your claims that your co-workers bullied and messed with you on the daily. But the two cooks squeezed the tops of your arms in tight grip that made you wince, and pulled you back up on your feet.

“Y/N, oh my, god! You need to be careful or you're really going to hurt yourself one of these days.” One of them said with a faux pout and a worried voice that was too realistic. You huffed with tears in your eyes from the pain of landing on the hard ground and because of the humiliation. Your knees still hadn’t healed from the last time they did this a few days ago, and because they do this so often, your knees were always a shade of dark blue and purple.

Tangerine was fuming at his spot across the street. He had watched the whole thing unfold and wanted to go up to the two cooks and kill them. Drag a blade across their neck and watch as they bled to death and choked on their own blood. Maybe kidnap them and set them on fire, have them die slowly and painfully. Then he thought of a better idea, one that required a certain venomous snake. He decided he had seen enough and left to begin executing his plan. But it had killed him to walk away from you.

“You two are very kind to help her, now get to cleaning. The one who closed last night didn’t properly clean the place and I need you three to do it.” Akihito didn’t even bother to ask if you were alright, focusing his attention and gratitude to the two on either side of you. Sometimes you thought that he was in on the harassment, turning a blind eye at first, maybe giving the bare minimum of care, then laughing in private.

“But we need to prepare the food, Akihito! And you know how long that takes!” The one on your left whined in a way that hurt your ears. He nodded his head before he said, “Yes, I understand. Go on then.”

The two released their bruising grip and walked away, leaving you alone with the boss. He looked at you in irritation, “Well get to work miss L/N! I’m not paying you to be absolutely useless.” And he walked away. Although he left, you nodded your head.

The next thirty minutes were spent with you, once again, trying to keep your hot tears from falling. Which made it even more difficult to wipe down the counters and sweep the floor because the tears blurred your vision. And you didn’t want to wipe them away because it would give it away that you were crying, even though a few people already knew. And some of them did feel bad for you, but they didn’t want to risk being another victim alongside you.

You sighed heavily before putting on your apron with shaky arms. Kaiseki Ryori had opened barely ten minutes ago and tables were already filled with customers. You felt an extra long day hurdling at you and there was nothing you could do but get through it with as little damage as possible.

Surprisingly, it was not as bad as other days, it was pretty normal. Your co-workers, especially the cooks, liked to mess with you for entertainment; giving you the wrong meals and purposely messing up the food because they knew the customer always blamed the waitress and not the cooks. In the end, the customers always cursed you out for not doing your job correctly.

As soon as your very long shift was over, you bolted through the kitchen, shoved the door open, and started your journey back to the bullet train. Before you left, you had wanted to steal a small bag of ice to put on your bruised knees, but the first time you tried that, you were stopped by one of the cooks because according to them, “We can’t waste any food.”

While you got comfortable on the train, Tangerine was in the middle of buying some Boomslang venom from The Hornet. Who was as annoying and difficult to negotiate with as others say. But he eventually got the venom and quickly made his way back to Kaiseki Ryori, where he saw the two cooks leaving. Perfect.

The next few days at work were great. The two cooks who participated the most in making your life miserable had not shown up, which made your days significantly easier to get through. But you couldn’t help but feel a little strange. As horrible as they were, they took their work seriously and would rather die than miss a day of work at Kaiseki Ryori.

Your relief was soon taken away and replaced with terror when Akihito informed the staff why they had been missing. According to him, they were just found dead in their homes. You felt sick as he gave the gruesome details; blood had come out of their eyes, nose, and mouth. And their throats were swollen and closed up. Your mind had begged him to stop talking when he kept going, “Yeah, I guess one of them fell down and completely broke their neck and cracked their skull. It’s horrible.”

What happened next made you scared to even come out of your apartment. Akihito was murdered the same way as the cooks.

Your emotions were everywhere. How were you supposed to feel? You were ecstatic to never work with them ever again, but that was only because they were dead. You felt guilty and disgusting for even being just a little bit joyful to never see them again.

Kaiseki Ryori got a new boss immediately and he gave everyone a day off. Which was not enough. How could anyone go back after they had just found out their co-workers died grotesquely? But they did, and it scared you how normal they seemed. You were still shaken up and had questions and concerns.

Who did this to them? Why? Am I a target? I need to be more careful when going back home. And I really need to get a new lock for my door. But I don’t have the money for that.

Also, when you say things went back to normal, that also meant they still continued tormenting you as well. You thought the murder of the two cooks would for some reason stop them.

Through all of this, you just felt confused and lost. What made it worse was that you had no idea what to do and had no way to communicate your jumbled thoughts. On top of that, your parents kept trying to call you, but you would let the phone ring until they got the hint that you were “busy”, and they would stop calling. It was always hard to get through their calls, but at the moment, you were in no state of mind to deal with them. But with each call you chose to ignore, the more anxious you got because you knew their anger increased each time they couldn’t get a hold of you. It had finally got to the point where you couldn’t let it go on anymore, so you picked up your phone and dialed your father’s number with shaky hands.

“God, please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up, please.” You hoped and prayed they were actually busy, unlike you.

“Wow, she finally has some goddamn time to talk to her parents.” Your father said with an annoyed tone. You wanted to throw yourself out of your window.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been a little busy with stuff. Sorry, dad.”

“Busy with what? Last time we talked, you were a waitress not someone of importance to the world.”

“I know, but I’ve just had stuff to do-”

“Stuff more important than your parents?”

“No, I-”

“Is that Y/N? Give me the phone” You heard your mother yell and you cringed. Not ready for her unwanted subtle views and judgements of your life. The conversation went smoothly at first, but you tensely waited for some sort of remark from her.

“You know, I really don’t like the choices you’ve made, you’ve seriously messed everything up.” Your mother said bluntly. This surprised you, she usually only made a small comment that you could easily bounce off from. But she never downright told you how she felt, you only had a strong feeling.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, please.”

“Well, I surely want to talk about it, right now.”

“Mom, please, I don’t feel comfortable-”

“No, this is where you zip it and listen, Y/N. Your father and I raised you to be outstanding and extraordinary. You had the perfect grades and the ambition and the attitude. What happened to my daughter?” You had no clue what to say. What would someone reply with if their mother just told them they were no good anymore?

“I don’t know, I just got a little tired I guess.” You uttered, feeling the formation of the ball in your throat and the stinging in your eyes. You took a deep breath as quietly as possible, you didn’t want your mother to hear you crying.

“No, you got lazy and incompetent. And it was such a shame and an embarrassment to witness all your capability go down the drain. I had to- we had to watch as other parents celebrated their own children head off to college and get amazing opportunities. And what were you doing? Packing your stuff and running off without a second thought. You wasted all your potential to be a waitress? In Japan?”

“Mom, please-” Your voice wavered, the ball in your throat becoming bigger as well as the tightness in your chest. You felt yourself about to shatter with no one but you to pick up the pieces after.

“No, no, you don’t get to be upset and cry. I’m the one that should be upset! My only child left me for god knows what. Tell me.”

“What?” You whispered. You hoped you had heard wrong. This was a conversation you were not ready to have, ever.

“I said tell me. What was so wrong with your life or what you lacked in your life that you had to move away from your father and I?”

It was silent for such a long time, or maybe that’s how long it felt and it had only been a few seconds. Memories you repressed deep into your mind had floated to the surface and swallowed you whole, adding more fuel to the anxious burn in your stomach.

“I don’t know, you and dad just fought a lot and it scared me. Dad would always leave, too. I-I just became anxious around the house, a-and the pressure I felt on me made it worse. I couldn’t handle it anymore, I just had to leave, mom. I’m so sorry.” You sniffled. It hurt to talk when you wanted to let it out and cry.

“Honestly, Y/N, this is just ridiculous. I have had more than enough. Come back home right now, I mean it.” The tone in her voice was the same one she used when she wanted something done immediately. But you would rather work with the two cooks again than go back.

“Mom.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to.” You said quietly.

It was silent for a minute, then you heard some muffled noises, as well as your dad calling out for your mom. You assumed she had dropped the phone and walked away.

“Well, you’ve really hurt your mother and I, Y/N. I hope this little trip was worth the pain you have caused us.”

“Dad, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” And he hung up.

You sat frozen on the couch and tried to keep yourself together. But you didn’t go very long and you let out a pained wail that devastated Tangerine through the camera. He had seen enough of your life and was officially done waiting, he needed to get you out of there now.

Once he had you, he would be the one who treated you like you deserved to be treated. He would hold you in his arms as you cried and with the most gentle touch, wipe away your tears. He would whisper that everything is going to be okay, comfort you with so much love that you felt safe.

He would take care of you, make you never have to worry about a single thing ever again. He also wanted to be the one who made you smile. He had only seen it a few times and your lit up face was ingrained into his brain. He wanted to read your books to you and listen to your music with you. Things Tangerine never thought he would do, he wanted to do with you. He would be that person who did anything for you, and all you had to do in return is love him. And if you didn’t, he’ll show you that he’s the one for you and vice versa.

You unknowingly owned all of Tangerine’s heart. And he wanted to own yours.

~~~

A/N: First chapter done! The next one we’ll actually see them interacting which I’m so excited to write. Comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated, they are what fuel me to keep doing this. I’ll also shave your eyebrows off if you don’t comment/reblog :)

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train imagine

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ifancyharry · 1 year

Text

Too late

Please let me know if you liked this, i love feedback!!

Word count: 6.8k

What is it: childhood friends to strangers to lovers; YN is getting married and she and Harry haven't spoken in five years. Harry hopes it's not too late, because he's been in love with her since he was 10. angst

TW: mentions of marijuana

When Harry received the invite he was coming back from his usual morning run. It had started as a rather nice kind of morning, really; the weather was warm and the sun kissed his tights with every jog he took, turning his skin a nice golden color, but not enough to make him sweat to the point of grossness.

Days like that were rare in London, especially in May, so Harry, while he was running, thought about five nice things he could do outside to take advantage of the beautiful weather. Of course, he obviously hadn’t taken in prospective the possibility of getting home to an invitation to his best friend’s wedding, so instead of sun bathing, eating his favorite meal on the porch and whatever other three things he’d come up with, he closed the door behind him, shut all the blinds, and sat on his bathroom floor for hours. And not what felt like hours. He really sat there until his bum had taken the shape of the floor’s tiles.

He has to admit, albeit without little shame, he tried to throw up a couple of times. He most definitely knows how dramatic that sounds, but call it poetic license or a really bad taste in romantic movies, it felt appropriate at the time. Because he really did feel like throwing up.

When he started feeling too pathetic to excuse his behavior, he jogged downstairs once again, and he picked up the invite in between his fingers. If he’s being honest, he really hoped the letter wouldn’t be there anymore. He’d rather have imagined it. A nightmare he couldn’t seem to wake up from, or perhaps a sick joke? YN wasn’t like that. She could never joke about such things.

Harry was definitely the more unserious out of the two, and even he wouldn’t dare to pull such a prank on her. So he knew the invite was real.

After a brief moment where he seriously contemplated going MIA and pull another ‘kissy’ post and disappear until the upcoming year, he took out his phone from his hoodie’s pocket and opened the calendar app.

As he came closer to the date, he was praying to god he’d be busy. Call him coward all you want. He was really hoping YN chose the date of the Met (it’s not like he was planning on going, but he’d definitely reconsider if it meant missing her wedding) or the date he’d set for an album release. She hadn’t. She actually chose a nice, free Sunday at the end of the month. And Harry felt like lying on the bathroom floor all over again.

If Harry was any other person in the world, he would have felt guilty. Because you’re supposed to be happy if your best friend’s getting married. Except, Harry isn’t like other people. Because Harry’s been in love with YN since he was a child; since the very first moment she moved next door and Harry wasn’t even old enough to know what love was all about. He’s certainly aged now, and with it you’d think the love he felt for her could have subdued, or fade, but it never did. It stayed with him until the very day he received the invite.

Harry eyes briefly the piece of paper in his hands, ‘You’re invited to YN and Graham’s wedding’ and bla bla bla, written in that one font Harry despises (he truly doesn’t, he wasn’t even aware that font existed before this morning), and he feels the sudden urge to pick up a lighter and burn it. That’s how much he despises that font. That’s how much he loves YN. Because seeing her name close to another who isn’t his, makes him want to never get out of bed ever again — he contemplated doing that already, and, frankly, he probably will, at least until he isn’t required to do something like a show or whatever else Jeff schedules for him.

The thing is that the invite wouldn’t have had this effect on him if YN and Harry were still friends. Because despite Harry still calling YN his best friend, he doesn’t know if she considers him even a friend anymore, and he made it that way. It’s his fault. Harry, who’s someone who never takes accountability for anything, knows it’s his fault. And everyone around them knows, but sometimes Mitch, who maybe cares about him to the point of hiding the truth from him for his sake, tells him it wasn’t his fault entirely; he says: you followed your heart, so you made the right choice — which coming from Mitch means a lot. But Harry, despite appreciating the effort, knows it’s not true. Because he did follow his heart, but he lost her. So really, he would have preferred a life in pain beside her. Because now he’s still in pain but without her. So who won?

YN never thinks about Harry. She doesn’t think about him when she’s shopping at Primark and sees a fruit theme stuffy she knows he’d like, she doesn’t think about him when she gets in the car and her bluetooth connects to his playlist on her Spotify automatically (she told Graham many times it wasn’t her fault, it was kind of a default thing her car did), she’s not thinking about him now, in front of her closet, debating whether she should wear a dress he bought her for her wedding rehearsal dinner.

YN sometimes likes to pretend she never knew Harry. She likes to pretend she never moved next door to him when she was only ten, she likes to pretend he never auditioned on xfactor, she likes to pretend she loves Graham as much as she loves Harry.

Other times, YN likes to pretend there’s a universe in which Harry’s the one she’s marrying. In this universe, she imagines never meeting Graham, she imagines Harry never leaving and shattering her heart, she imagines the cat they’d adopt, the house they’d buy, how they’d raise their children; in this universe she sees herself always happy.

She knows she’s not being fair to Graham, so she lets herself linger in this universe only for a couple of minutes and especially on hard days when she feels overwhelmed, it doesn’t make it more morally right, she’s aware of that, but what else could she really do?

When YN sent Harry that invite, she certainly didn’t think he’d come. It’s not like she appositely called Jeff and asked — begged — him to free his schedule the day of her wedding. She asked Glenn instead because she’s friendlier with her.

A part of YN still wonders why she did it, from time to time. Maybe, if she was a bad person, she could’ve done it because she wanted Harry to see her happy and in love. But she’s not like that. She could never imagine hurting him in that way.

So, she always comes to the conclusion that maybe she sent the invite because she just misses him. It’s not like she has to have another reason. Missing him is enough.

She knows no one is truly aware of the affection she feels for Harry. What she feels for him isn’t nowhere near what she feels for Graham. In the past, she used to be so scared of feeling such things for another, because with those feelings came the realization that she also had something to lose. And she truly felt like she couldn’t do it without him.

But then, he left her. And she did do it without him. She met Graham, graduated college, and got engaged. And at one point, she felt like she’d give up everything to have Harry beside her again. So, can you blame her if she remembered his address by heart? Can you blame her if she invited him?

Harry feels like a pretentious asshole.

He hates his car; he hates the flashy yellow color of his Ferrari, the sound it makes when he revs the engine and all heads turn to look at him. All but one, because YN’s the only one that recognizes him by the sound of his car. Even five years later.

When he gets out of the car, he feels like everyone’s looking at him, and he doesn’t dare shift his gaze to see if she’s looking at him too. He feels like they all know what he did that night, that he broke her heart. He feels exposed before them.

He’s glad YN invited Jeff and Glenn too, and he waits for them to get out of their car too before approaching the crowd.

“So nice!” Glenn exclaims once she’s out of the car, shutting the passenger’s door loudly behind her.

Harry looks around and has to admit, it really is nice. A nice old cottage in the English countryside, with a big well-kept garden full of flowers he knows it’s where the wedding will take place (because YN loves flowers). It’s nice. He’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but it’s not YN. Because YN, or at least the version he knew of her, wanted to get married in the winter — on Christmas Eve —, in a small chalet with only her close family and friends, where the snow would never stop falling and they’d be forced to stay in with the fireplace popping and wool, chunky blankets to keep everyone warm.

“YN!” He hears Glenn once again, and he shifts his attention to her.

She’s standing on the porch, wrapped in a long black coat definitely too warm for the weather, and despite being far from where he’s standing, he can see her clearly. She hasn’t changed. It’s still her.

Harry doesn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe a more grown up version of her, definitely boring and that kind of resembled her mother a bit. He wasn’t expecting her. The YN he once knew still there, perhaps more beautiful than ever.

He feels his heart skip a beat, and with her walking slowly towards them, waving politely at a couple of guests that stop to greet her on the way, he feels warm. A kind of warm that resembles the one he felt as a kid when he was sick and his mum would take care of him. He feels something that reminds him of a certain familiarity, like he had been floating all this time and he’s finally back on the ground. He feels parts of himself coming back with every step she takes forward.

“Hello” he hears her giggle, and he feels the sound resonate in his chest, spreading all over his body up until the very end of his fingers.

“Hi!” Glenn squeals, shrugging her shoulders and stretching her arms forward, closing YN in a hug between her arms.

“I’m so happy you came” she says, her voice muffled by Glenn’s shoulder, and Harry isn’t sure if she means him too.

She hasn’t exactly looked at him, but Harry isn’t upset about that. He knows her. He knows how she is. She never makes eye contact when she’s uncomfortable. And Harry feels a certain smugness come with it. He’d rather make her uncomfortable than uninterested, because with her uncomfortableness comes the realization that maybe, maybe — deep down, under her skin and rooted in her heart — she did miss him too. And maybe it’s not like Mitch says. Maybe it was his fault and he should’ve fought for her.

However, Harry realizes things always late; because she’s getting married to someone else now.

YN briefly hugs Jeff too, and after that, she smiles awkwardly at Harry and waves at him with her hand, “Hey” she says, her hand dropping by her side.

“Hey” he replies, and he watches as she hugs the coat closer to her body as a sudden gust of wind embraces them, ruffing her hair. Harry can make out the faint scent of her shampoo, and as it fills his nostrils, his mind is swarmed with memories of hot summer nights where they would talk in bed for hours after swimming in his stepdad’s pool all day, minds free of whatever worry a 15 year old could have, sweaty bodies sticky together, tanned skin against skin, Harry not being able to make out where he’d end and she’d begin.

“This place is so nice!” Glenn interrupts, and YN is grateful for that, because she isn’t sure what she would’ve done if Glenn hadn’t talked. She fears she would’ve leaned in to hug Harry if she’d stared a second more into his green eyes.

In the five years they spent apart, YN always wondered if there would come a time when she’d no longer remember the exact shade of green of his eyes and the way they used to twinkle when he’d talk about something he was passionate about.

Now, YN doesn’t know what things Harry’s passionate about, but his eyes are the same color she remembered. Despite the stubble on his chin, and the cheeky grin he used to give her turning in a more mature one, his eyes stayed the same.

“I know, right! Graham picked it, he used to come here on vacation with his family when he was a child” YN smiles happily at Glenn, and turns her body to look around herself.

Harry frowns at her words. Of course Graham picked it. She never would’ve if it was up to her, he knew that. And somehow, call him an asshole all you want, he feels a certain smugness coming with the awareness that he knows YN more than her own fiancee does.

“It’s nice” he agrees, and he smirks at her when she snaps her head in his direction, probably not expecting him to talk, “but I prefer winter weddings, you know? With the snow and everything…”

YN’s happy smile turns in a frown when she hears the words come out of his mouth. She isn’t entirely sure about Harry’s motives. She doesn’t know if he remembers that she wanted to get married in winter or if he’s just expressing a preference. She doesn’t know this Harry anymore.

“It’s beautiful, YN” Jeff chimes in, and YN shifts her glance towards him and smiles at him too.

“Let’s go, then! I want to introduce you to Graham” she exclaims, and turns around, grabbing Glenn by the arm and intertwining it with hers.

“C’mon” Jeff says, patting Harry on the shoulder as an encouragement.

Harry nods and starts to walk beside him, his hands tucked in his pockets as another gust of wind flies over them.

He watches YN walk in front of him, too occupied to talk with Glenn to close her coat against the wind, and he’s sure he can make out the floral design of the Gucci dress he bought her on his vacation to Italy many years ago. How happy she looked when she opened it, and Harry remembers he thought about how much he wanted to buy her every pretty dress in the world if it meant seeing her so happy.

He kisses his mouth at the memory of every dress he saw in those five years and that he thought about buying. Now, knowing she still wears his gifts, he wishes he did. He wishes he bought everything that reminded him of her.

Harry knows it’s just a dress, and he shouldn’t get this flustered over such a simple thing as that! But with it comes the realization that maybe, in her deepest subconscious, she wore it for him. And Harry’s content with that. Because maybe then that means that those five years apart didn’t mean anything. Maybe then she missed him as much as he missed her. And Harry feels warm at the mere thought. Maybe he hasn’t lost her entirely.

Harry met Graham, and everything went somehow fine.

It’s not like she was imagining Harry fighting Graham over her — no, that’s just a thought that pops in her mind every once in a while when she catches herself fantasizing over what her life with Harry could be like.

It’s weird to YN how there’s someone in her life that Harry didn’t know until she introduced him. And not just someone; her future husband. It sets a weird kind of awareness, because until now she was almost pretending Harry was in an island unknown to mankind, without his phone and that’s why he wasn’t calling.

Now, seeing him shake her fiancee’s hand, smiling politely at him, she realizes Harry wasn’t stranded on an island without technology; the missing phone calls were a choice. So she should be happy she’s no longer involved with such a person.

Why isn’t she happy, though? Why does she catches herself wishing she could go up to his room, lay on his bed and talk to him?

She really wishes she could tell him she’s scared of marrying Graham. She knows he could tell him that and he wouldn’t judge her like everyone else would. She knows he’d have the answer. He’d say something like “get your stuff, I’ll start the car” and they’d laugh and run away to the nearest McDonald’s drive through to stuff their mouth with a big mc or some chicken nuggets, and Harry would purposely stain her wedding dress with barbecue sauce, and she’d laugh. As I said before, whenever she catches herself fantasizing about an alternative universe with Harry, she’s alway happy.

So, then, why didn’t she call? Why did she let five years pass? Five years without hearing his voice. Seeing his eyes.

She doesn’t know why.

At first she was mad, because Harry made love to her and then he left. So she was really really mad. Then, after the anger had subdued, she got scared. Scared he didn’t want her anymore. Scared their friendship wouldn’t be like before — now, she thinks it doesn’t matter if their friendship had changed. She wanted Harry around, no matter what.

She’s aware sometimes nostalgia makes you remember things that were never there. But she feels like it was different with Harry; it’s why she’s walking towards his room now, heart in her throat, and hands twitching at her sides.

She wishes it could be easier. She wishes she could be different. She has a fiancee. Why is she going to Harry’s room? Why did she invite him in the first place!

The cottage has six rooms upstairs, and she remembers exactly in which room she put Harry. He’s the only one without a plus one, so his room is smaller than the others. She hopes he liked it, but she knows he didn’t. It’s too fancy, for him. He doesn’t like flashy things, which is kind of ironic for someone who owns six cars, but who is she to judge when she helped him pick the very one he came here with?

When she stops in front of his door, she feels ashamed, and she’s scared someone may catch her, even if she’s not doing anything wrong, just greeting an old friend. But Harry wasn’t always a friend. There was one night in which they were more than friends, and she feels herself fluster at the thought of being alone with him in a bedroom.

She releases a big breath and closes her hand in a fist, knocking it against the door.

When he doesn’t answer she tries again, “Harry, it’s YN”, she clarifies.

Nothing.

She stands before the door for a couple of minutes, but then realizes he’s not going to answer. He doesn’t want to see her.

It’s fine. She’s fine.

She understands, it’s been five years. She can’t pretend nothing has changed between them. She feels stupid when she turns around to head back to her room and a single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away before anyone can see. She refuses to cry. She cried enough when he left.

This gave her the answer she needed. She’s marrying Graham, and if before she wished Harry’d persuade her in not marrying him, she knows he doesn’t care now.

Harry’s sitting on the his bedroom’s floor, freshly showered, his hair still a little damp from the water, waiting near the outlet on the wall for his phone to charge. He’s playing with the chord of his phone’s charger as he listens to his mother rumble on the other side of the line.

He’s not paying much attention to what she’s saying, his mind is definitely more focused on this morning’s encounter he had with YN’s fiancee. Harry tried to be on his best behavior, because despite hating Graham, he loves YN and he wants to be respectful of her choices. Harry has always been someone that never fought for what he wanted. He kind of always went with other’s decisions. He doesn’t know why he’s like this. Sometimes he thinks it’s just easier to let others decide for you, other times he’s aware it’s a matter of accountability: he doesn’t want to be responsible for his own choices, because then if something goes wrong, he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

“How’s YN? I’ve seen her Instagram and she looks even more beautiful” he hears his mum say, and his eyes widen at her words.

“Mmmh, yes, she’s beautiful” Harry agrees, chewing at the skin of his thumb.

“Do you think she’ll have a baby soon?” Anne asks, and Harry almost wants to throw his phone against the wall at the mere thought of the love of his life having a baby with someone else.

“I don’t know, mum… I don’t think so” he shakes his head, but his words aren’t that much convincing to him. He doesn’t know if YN wants to have a baby with Graham. She had expressed her desire to have a big family when they were still friends and when she thought the timing was right, but was it now? Was it with Graham? He honestly doesn’t know.

“You know, I always thought she had a little bit of a crush on you” Anne giggles, almost childishly.

“She’s getting married” Harry says, and his tone suddenly turned stern. He doesn’t want to be rude, especially to his mum, but thoughts of what could’ve been have been hunting him especially hard since he saw her, and he doesn’t want to come to terms with the fact that maybe something could’ve happened between them if he had been a little more brave.

“She isn’t married now” his mum says, and he rolls his lips in his mouth.

Weird enough, he knows what his mother means: she’s giving him an ultimatum, a sweet reminder that there’s still time. She’s not married yet. But what could Harry do? He really wishes someone could tell him. He wants his mum to say, Harry, tell her you love her before it’s too late. And he swears he’d do it. He’d do it right now. But coming up with that decision on his own? He’s not that much impulsive.

“Mum” he says, “I have to go now. It’s time for dinner”.

“Okay, my love.” She replies.

“We’ll talk tomorrow” he nods, and ends the call, throwing his phone in his lap.

He shuts his eyes tightly and his head drops between his knees, his hands reaching up to clutch his hair at the roots.

He feels pathetic. He feels like screaming in a pillow. He picks up his phone again and taps at the scree to check the time: 7.37 pm. At this time tomorrow the love of his life will be married to someone that’s not him.

Harry is late. Everyone has already eaten their appetizer and he still hasn’t shown up. Yn knows she probably shouldn’t care, especially after he didn’t answer the door after she knocked on it three times feeling like a naive teenager with a school crush. But still. She wonders what he’s doing. It’s not like she blames him, this dinner is pretty boring, and coming from the bride says a lot! But Graham especially requested no music and no dancing while eating, so the room is kind of quiet, albeit for a soft giggle or whispered words every once in a while.

She’s biting in her pasta when Harry walks in, and suddenly she feels breathless. He’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that warms her insides and reminds her of the color yellow, the sun shining when they visited Rome together, the tan he used to get at his stepdad’s pool when she’d spend hours looking at his lips while he sunbathed and she wondered if they tasted like chlorine. Beautiful.

He walks slowly towards where he spots Jeff and Glenn, and YN looks at him shamelessly; he’s wearing cream tailored pants that hug his tights perfectly, paired with a silky blue blouse tucked at the front of the pants. She swallows the mouthful of pasta. When they were friends he definitely didn’t dress like that, he was more into skinny jeans and flowery button down shirts. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like him like this. But, must I dare say, she’d like Harry even if he was wearing a trash bag.

He throws her an awkward smile before sitting down, and she shifts her eyes down on her plate, suddenly aware of being caught staring.

As dinner goes on, she never raises her eyes from her plate, not even when she feels a familiar pair of green eyes burning her skin.

YN pushes her palm against the wooden door and takes in a big breath once the fresh spring air hits her warm face. She takes a step outside and the door closes behind her with a thump. She cringes at the sound and hopes it didn’t wake anyone up.

It’s almost one in the morning and she couldn’t sleep. She doesn’t know wether it’s pre-wedding anxiety or the thought of another universe soon to be lost forever, but she felt a heavy weight on her chest that made it hard to breathe.

She looks at the garden before her and decides she wants to take a walk in the rose garden. She’s always loved flowers, and she thinks seeing some beauty could help her clear her mind.

She makes her way down the cobbled path, illuminated by some lamps paved across the way, but when she reaches the start of the rose garden, she has to blink a few times to accustom her eyes to the darkness.

The garden is the only thing she likes about her wedding location, and she’s thankful Graham agreed to get married there. He decided everything else, so at least he left that part up to her.

When she turns the corner of the hedge that divided the rose garden from the location of the wedding, she’s surprised to see a dark figure sitting in one of the reception’s chair.

She walks closer and she’s able to make out a familiar pair of broad shoulders bent over. Harry’s sitting on a chair from the first row, his head hanging low between his shrugged shoulders, his legs are slightly opened and his forearm is resting on one of his tights, the bright fire red of what she knows is a joint illuminating the side of his face.

She’d recognize Harry even in darkness, but she still feels her heart fall to her chest when she realizes he’s right in front of her, sitting probably where he’d be tomorrow.

She debates whether she should go sit next to him or go back to her room and pretend she never saw him. It’s almost like she can’t control her own legs when they start to walk towards him.

With the movement, Harry turns his head around and his eyes widen at the sight; YN’s walking towards him, but what’s most shocking to him is that she’s making her way down the aisle. He suddenly gets up on his feet when he sees her, and when she stops right in front of him, she gives him a mischievous smile.

She’s breath taking. If this is what Graham will see tomorrow, he doesn’t know how he’ll manage not to faint.

“Walked like a true bride!” He says jokingly, and she giggles at his words, slapping his chest lightly. Harry feels the skin burn under her touch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“Can I?” She says, gesturing to the lit joint he’s holding between his fingers. He’d almost forgotten what he was doing before she appeared.

“Mhmh” he nods, stretching his arm.

She doesn’t take the joint from his fingers though, she just opens her mouth and waits for him to place it between her lips, and Harry swears he can feel himself faint, his head dizzy with all the love he feels for her.

He holds the joint between her lips and she takes a long drag from it, tilting her head towards his fingers, closing her eyes after she inhales. She opens her mouth again and opens her eyes as she exhales the smoke from her mouth, Harry watching closely her every movement, his eyes dark and glazed over.

He watches as she turns around and sits on one of the white chairs, the one next to where he was sitting before, and she tugs one leg to her chest as she hugs it closer to her chest.

Harry stays standing before her for a while, looking at the faint image of the cottage behind her and absentmindedly smoking his joint. When he feels her eyes on him, he looks down at her. It’s been years since they’ve been this close, and suddenly he’s 15 years old again, his hands twitching at his sides from how much he wants to stretch them out and just touch her.

“Graham is nice” he says, and immediately after he cursers himself in his mind for ruining the moment when he sees her gaze harden.

“Yeah, he is…” she whispers.

Harry tilts the joint towards her to ask her if she wants another hit, but she shakes her head no and he drops his hand at his side, nodding his head.

“I really like the place, by the way. I was only teasing this morning” he shrugs, smiling at her.

“You were?” She asks, and when he nods she says, “so you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” And he doesn’t have to say anything more, because they both know what he means.

“Graham picked everything” she releases a shaky breath at that, and Harry takes another drag from his joint and raises both his eyebrows to signal her to continue as he exhales the smoke from his mouth.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t want this” she shakes her head, shifting her gaze from his eyes to an indefinite point behind him.

Harry wonders whether she means the cottage or the wedding. Perhaps she even means their fight. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t dare ask, ignoring the voice in his head telling him that maybe she’s offering him an opening to a conversation he isn’t sure he wants to have.

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful anyway.” He smiles and throws the joint’s butt on the grass.

“Yeah” she nods firmly, and he’s aware of the tension lingering between them.

“I better go,” she says, getting up from the chair and tugging at the sleeves of her sweater to cover her hands “big day tomorrow”.

She smiles awkwardly at him when she walks past him, and Harry notices the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

He shifts his gaze in front of him, staring out in the darkness. He’s about to lose her all over again, the bitter night five years prior vivid in his memory, hitting him like a bullet. He thought the pain from leaving her that night had left, and he wonders how much time it will take for it to stop hurting. Maybe it never will.

He’s sure he doesn’t want to live his life with the memory of her back planted in his brain, leaving him once again. He doesn’t want to think back to her and remember her like this. Leaving.

So, when she’s about mid way through the aisle, he calls her name.

He doesn’t have a speech in his mind, and when she turns around with her brows furrowed and her shoulders sagged he doesn’t really know what to say, how to tell her.

“What, Harry?” It’s the first time he hears her say his name in five years, and he’s upset she sounds so defeated. He wishes he could make this easier for her, but he doesn’t know how.

His chest floats as he takes a big breath.

“Whatever” she says, shaking her head, but Harry notices she doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t marry him” it’s the only thing he manages to say, and he isn’t even looking at her, he’s still looking out in front of him, and she wishes he could look at her to see if he’s joking or not.

She scoffs, because despite the words coming out of his mouth made her insides warm , she isn’t sure if he’s being serious. “You’re so… so immature! You enrage me!”

“No, no!” He hurries, waving his palms in front of him. “Hear me out, then you can — you can leave. if you want you can leave.” He nods, trying to convince himself, but he really doesn’t want her to leave.

“Don’t marry him. You know he’s not right for you! He… he’s controlling, he doesn’t know you! You shouldn’t marry someone like that.” He’s standing in front of her now, and he grabs her hands in his.

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me to marry him?” She whispers, looking up in his eyes.

“No… i-“ he sighs.

“You can’t even say it, Harry.” She frowns, trying to free her hands from his grip, but he only tightens it, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“I can say it.” He nods, “i don’t want you to marry him because I want it to be me. I— I have loved you since I could remember.”

She shuts her eyes tightly at his words, “you don’t mean that”.

Harry frees her hands and reaches for her face, caressing her warm cheeks with his thumbs.

“I do. I do.” He nods, “look at me, angel — please look at me”

YN opens her eyes and Harry can feel his heart clench at the sight of her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

“You had me, Harry. All those years ago, you had me. But you let me go! You have no idea how… how hard it was”

This time, Harry closes his eyes and then reopens them, despite being aware, the thought of making her suffer is hard to face.

“I thought… I didn’t…—“ he shakes his head, his hands still keeping the firm grip on her face, “my life was hard, YN. It was crazy. I thought… you weren’t ready. I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“You did anyway. I hated you for what you did to me. I hated you for leaving.” She frowns, tears spilling from her eyes, but Harry wipes quickly at them with his thumb before they can roll down her cheeks. He leans down to place a delicate kiss between her eyes.

“I never once left you. In my heart it has always been you.”

He can feel her start to soften, but the she says “It’s too late now.”, and she shakes her head, her hands reaching up to remove Harry’s from her face. He complies, not wanting to force her. “I’m getting married, tomorrow.”

“Angel, please” he whispers, but she’s already turned around, and Harry’s left alone in the middle of the aisle.

Suddenly he feels nauseous, and he brings a hand to his chest to calm his restless heart. As I said before, Harry realizes things always too late.

The next morning, Harry wakes up on his bed with the sound of an alarm he forgot he’d set. As he rubs the sleep off his eyes, he can’t wait to get the hell out of this place as soon as he can, and when he reaches for his phone and checks the time, he remembers why he set the alarm so early in the morning: this way he can avoid everyone from the ceremony on his way out.

He can’t bare the thought of sitting through the wedding. He’ll send YN some fancy gift that she’ll enjoy with her husband and then he’ll disappear from her life once again.

He knows it’s better this way.

He did it one time before. He knows already how long it will take to mourn their lost friendship and get back on track. The sooner he goes home and sleeps his feelings off, the sooner he’ll feel better.

He hurriedly throws his clothes in his suitcase, without caring if they get wrinkly or ruined. He grabs his phone and its charger and doesn’t even bother to check the bathroom twice to see if he left something behind. He doesn’t care, he’s eager to get far away and never face the heartbreak he’s leaving with.

As soon as he opens the door, though, the bag in his hand falls from his grip to the ground as he takes in the image in front of him.

YN’s against the other side of the wall, her head hung low between her shoulders.

“YN?” He asks, and she looks at him with her big, glossy eyes, and Harry feels like staying. He feels like grabbing her hand and tugging her inside, kissing her until he’s finally able to show her how much he loves her.

“I’m not… I—“ she shakes her head, her voice trembling as she gets her back off the wall and takes a step towards him, “i called the wedding off.”

It’s the only thing she says, but Harry feels butterflies fly in his stomach. His heart clenches in his chest, and he has to bring a hand to his chest like he did the night before to make sure he’s not having a heart attack.

“It’s not too late.” She whispers, “if you still want me, it’s not too late.”

Harry reaches up to her and tugs her closer to him by her arm.

“I’ll never not want you”.

YN steps in the room and closes the door behind her, and Harry gently takes her face in his hands and tilts her head up. He looks from one eye to the other attentively before placing his lips against hers, and he almost contemplates not closing his eyes in fear she’d no longer be there when he reopens them, but YN moves her hands from his neck, to his shoulders, and he feels her grabbing his shirt between her fingers and holding him closer, her fingers digging in his skin. She’s real. She’s here, and he’s kissing her. It’s been five years since he’s last tasted her, and this time he’s kissing her without guilt. Because it’s not too late. Life just started.

YN parts her lips slightly and Harry sucks her bottoms lip in his mouth, eager to taste her more.

His tongue licks over her lips and when she whimpers against his lips, he sneaks his tongue inside her mouth and caresses hers with his. He explores her mouth like his life depends on it, and he feels like he wants to drink her. He wants to get drunk on her taste and never recover.

YN moves her hands from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt, tugging on it, and Harry parts from her mouth breathlessly. He feels dizzy and he’s not entirely sure it’s from the lack of air.

“No” he says, taking her hands in his and squeezing them in his grasp.

YN pouts at him and he tilts his head to kiss it away from her lips with a brief peck: “i want you. I really do. But not here”.

She widens her eyes at his words and realizes she was almost about to have sex with Harry when her ex fiancee and his family could hear them. She giggles loudly at the thought, and Harry, despite not knowing why she’s laughing, lets out a chuckle, shaking his head and looking at her with a bewildered look in his eyes.

“Let’s leave then.” She says when she calms down.

“Okay.” He nods, picking up his bag from the floor, “get your stuff. I’ll start the car.”

YN bites down on her bottom lip hard, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What?” He says once he realizes she still hasn’t moved from her place.

She shakes her head, “nothing” she says, “i’m glad I wasn’t too late.”

“You could never be too late” he smiles, and he hopes she knows he’d wait for her all his life if it meant having her beside him.

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