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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 1 year

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Never Should Have Let You Go - Adam Cole x Reader PART 2

Can we just take a moment to appreciate how adorable this man is? *.*

*clear throat* Anyhow– so here is part 2 of Reader x Adam Cole, Never Should’ve Let You Go. It’s more from Adam’s prospective/2nd/3rd POV.

Also, I legit work(Well-- WORKED) at a Dollar store, so I am/will be pulling from incidents that happen to me or ones I hear from other stores.

Fun times *eye roll*

Fun Fact: The Microroni story included actually happened. To me. I was sick a couple weeks back, doing a reset (moving shelf labels and product around) with a coworker and the Microwavable Beefaroni had to move a shelf down– and instead I said the Microroni needed to move. She about died laughing)

Also, I don’t know yet if one of these chapters will have a smut section. I’ve never written smut– but i’ve read it, so I know good vs bad smut. I just don’t know if I’m comfortable, yet, writing it. So for now, enjoy all the fluff you can handle.

Y/N/N = Your Nick Name Y/N = Your Name Y/E/C = Your Eye Color

TAG LIST- If you’d like to be added, let me know!

@blxxckheart @shedevil22 @wwequeenbeesblog @regalbanshee

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4

(divider)

2017 - EIGHT YEARS LATER

“—don’t understand why you have such a problem with it!” Adam exclaimed in exasperation, frowning to his girlfriend Britt,” Y/N/N never did—”

“There it is! Again!” Britt exclaimed back, scowling at him,” Everything—it’s always Y/N/N this, Y/N/N that! I’m not her, Adam!”

“I’m well aware, thanks!” Adam fired back angrily. All they seemed to do for several months now, was fight. It was the first time they saw each other in a month, and within five minutes they were already at each other’s throats.

“Maybe you should just give her a call if you are so concerned about her!”

“Her numbers been disconnected.”

Britt stood there, almost dumbfounded, before crossing her arms and giving a click of her tongue,” And there it is. You’ve already tried. Should’ve known.”

“Britt c’mon,” Adam sighed,” You know it’s not like—”

“Save it, Adam,” Britt shook her head,” I’m done being constantly compared to your high school sweetheart.” Turning, she walked away—ignoring Adam as he called out to her.

“Britt— Britt!” Balling up his fist in anger, Adam swung at the crate nearest him, hissing in pain as he hit the toughened plastic harder than he intended.

“Forget it, man,” he muttered under his breath, walking the opposite way that Britt had left. If she was done, then so be it; time to focus on the career again.

That was seven months ago. October had crept up on everyone- and Adam was rolling on the high of successfully debuting in NXT along with Kyle and Bobby. Sewing chaos back stage for the cameras—and searching for a decent apartment in the area—kept him busy enough. It was the day after filming their latest hijinks—all Adam wanted to do was rest a bit, but instead he found himself at a local Dollar store, picking up items he needed for the apartment. He didn’t expect the small store to have everything it did—but here he was quickly filling a cart. Kyle and Bobby had got roped into tagging along—and the three were just having a blast, cracking jokes at certain things or memories that came up.

“Remember when you were so tired that one night—you were combining every word you said?” Bobby laughed, causing Kyle to groan.

“Come on man, I was up for almost 45 hours.”

“Beefaroni and Microwavable— what was it again, Adam?”

“Microroni,” Adam laughed,” What was even better was that the Macaroni was right beside him too!”

“I hate you guys,” Kyle rolled his eyes, walking off towards the end of the aisle on his own.

“Oh, come on, kid—all in good fun,” Bobby chuckled. Adam looked up briefly from the coffee to see where Kyle was at, glancing back to the coffee tins. Quickly, he done a double take—his head snapping back towards Kyle’s direction, blue eyes widening slightly.

“No…” he whispered.

“You good?” Bobby asked, noticing his friends state of shock. Wordlessly, Adam left his cart where it was and walked down to Kyle’s location, carefully peering out from the end of the aisle.

Five aisles down, focusing on a display she had to set was the one person Adam never thought he would see again. The one person that stole his heart ten years ago. The one person he was still in love with.

“Y/N/N…” he breathed, swallowing the lump in his throat—unaware that Bobby and Kyle were standing right beside him, looking in the same direction.

“S’up man? You know her?” Kyle asked.

“T-that’s Y/N/N…”

“Y/N/N? W—” Kyle started, before stopping as his eyes widened in surprise,” Wait—Y/N Y/N/N? Your girlfriend from high school?”

The words escaped him, so all Adam could do was nod once.

“She’s more beautiful than I remember…”

“Go talk to her,” Bobby ushered, nodding his head in Y/N’s direction as she focused on the numerous papers and shelves.

“Nah, nah—I—I can’t.”

“Why not?” Kyle questioned, confusion evident in both his expression and voice.

“Wh— It’s been eight years!” Adam exclaimed, before glancing back over his shoulder real quick. Seemingly being unheard by Y/N, he lowered his voice as he continued with sadness,” She’s probably moved on.”

“You don’t know that,” Bobby told his long-time friend,” Let me just give you one piece of advice— Adam. You listening, man?”

Kyle and Bobby watched in mild amusement as Adam leaned carefully around the corner of the aisle, peering out from the canned goods.

“She always done that—scrunched her face like that? Something’s not adding up—she’s trying to figure out why,” Adam recalled, watching with a ghost of a smile on his face.

“I don’t think he’s listening,” Kyle chuckled to Bobby, who gave a nod of agreeance.

“Y/N—I need you up front.” A voice rang through the walkie on her hip, causing her to sigh softly as she put down her papers.

“I’ll be right there.”

She disappeared into another aisle—and almost without thought, Adam snuck after her.

“I’ll grab the cart,” Kyle smirked, as he and Bobby followed along behind their friend in a non-suspicious behavior. They caught up to Adam, who was watching from behind the Pepsi display, as Y/N seemed to be explaining something to a customer. Her voice floated just far enough that they heard what was being discussed.

“—not on sale. The sign states exactly what’s half off—spring items, planters, seeds. This is a harvest for the Fall.”

“But it was back there with the clearance! I want it for that price!”

“I’m sorry, m’am, but I’m not going to price override it. The signs clearly state—”

“I want to speak to the manager!”

“M’am—”

“Manager! I want to speak with them—not you! You clearly don’t know what you’re doing! Your manager will know about this!”

The three men saw Y/N seemingly take a deep breath and Adam gave a small smirk.

“Deep breath, chewing on the bottom lip— and— and— there it is. Arms crossed in front of her. She’s trying to keep her cool, to remain calm. She’s yelling on the inside—chewing the lady apart.”

“M’am—I—”

“No! Manager—right now!” the customer demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at Y/N.

“Sure, let me go get her.”

They watch as she disappears down the registers towards a room in the corner, closing the door behind her.

“She’s losing her job over this! Mark my words!”

Adam watches in baited breath, before the door opens again and Y/N walks back towards the registers—a huge smile plastered on her face.

“She’s got something up her sleeve.”

“Hello! I’m the store manager, Y/N,”she said, pointing to her name badge,” How can I help you today?”

“You are not! Don’t lie to me! Get your manager out here right now!”

“M’am—”

“—can’t believe you! I will have your job for this! Get the manager out—”

“I’m going to ask you to leave,” Y/N said, talking over the customer,” And if you don’t leave, I will call the police.”

“You bitch! You think you can do this to me?! Do you have any idea who—”

“Get out and never come back to my store,” Y/N told her, raising her voice, as she pointed to the doors.

The customer let out a shriek of indignance, before stomping her way out of the store.

“If she comes back in here, let me know—okay?” The cashier gave a nod- before Y/N looked to the few customers that were in the line.

“Thank you all for being patient.” Walking away from the register, Adam watched as she disappeared back down an aisle to the project she left previously.

“She’s…” Adam whispered, barely loud enough that Kyle and Bobby heard.

“Do you see them?” Kyle asked, leaning back towards the older man, as Adam looked over at them in confusion.

“You mean the little hearts in his eyes? Yeah—I see ‘em.”

“Shut up,” Adam scoffed, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“Look, man. While I’ve got your attention,” Bobby said,” I’ve got one piece of advice for you—and it’s all I’ll say. If you don’t go up to her, talk to her—and leave here today, never coming back—you’ll always wonder. What if? What if she is single? What if she’s been waiting for you? What if—she still loves you as much as you love her? Would you be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t take the chance?”

Could he?

Adam contemplated it for a few moments, crossing his arms in front of him and softly nibbling on his thumbnail, staring off into space. His baby blues glossed over momentarily as memories from ten years ago replayed in his head.

Seeing Y/N in the hallways at school and always thinking she would never be interested in him.

Being surprised, when one day after school, a group of them decided to play tackle football—and she was one of the few girls who joined. Adam remembered the surprise he felt—when, as he was getting ready to pass the football to a teammate, and she came out of nowhere and tackled him with her full bodyweight. The sudden impact had caused him to fall over into the mud—the ball slipping from his hands. After the initial shock was over, a slight flutter of happiness traveled through him when he found she was straddled over his waist, her arms covered in mud—some streaks of brown on her face. In that moment, he saw her beauty—her true beauty. After a slight awkward shuffling off one another and standing up, he tossed her a small smile to which she had returned with a shy smile of her own.

Their first date had gone completely wrong—but in the end, was probably the best first date that could’ve happened. The original plans had been going to the local diner a couple blocks away- but the weather had different plans. After being soaked within a minute of being outside, the two spent hours playing video games—and Y/N didn’t go home until almost one in the morning.

Their first kiss happened out of the blue—outside in the cold Pennsylvania winter. A simple snowman had turned into an all-out snowball fight. Before either one knew it, they were rolling around in the cold snow, both laughing up a storm- until they came to a stop, Adam slightly leaning over Y/N. Both were red in the face from the cold but smiling despite it. His eyes briefly flickered to her lips, before looking her in the eyes once more—hesitantly leaning down. It was soft and almost uncertain—but both couldn’t ignore the fireworks that they felt.

“—match against Roddy next week. Be just like old times,” Bobby was saying, as Adam came back to earth. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he knew what he had to do.

It was now or never.

Kyle and Bobby watched quietly as their close friend walked down the aisle, heading to where Y/N worked. As he neared her, Adam peered around the corner cautiously, watching for just a moment longer.

“If this goes to Hell—I just… I need one last, good look at her…”

As he worked up the courage to step around, he saw the metal shelf she had just put up slip out of its place and fall to the floor with a loud clatter- as she let out a groan of annoyance.

“Seriously—work with me here, come on,” Y/N muttered, as she bent down to pick it up.

“Need a hand with that, princess?”

Adam saw her freeze in place, before she slowly straightened back up; her e/c gaze meeting his baby blues. He gave her a shy smile—tentative and uncertain—as he swallowed the lump in his throat once again.

Why did this girl always make him so nervous? Even ten years later, he still felt like that 16-year-old boy in high school, watching her from afar.

“A-Adam?”

#wwe #world wrestling entertainment #Adam Cole #Adam x Reader #Part 2 #imagine #reader insert #fanfiction #NXT

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boytickler35 · 8 months

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Outer Banks Tickle Show

JJ watches the young man squirm, laughing his ass off. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pope’s mouth hanging open, eyes fixed on the screen, and he isn’t paying hard attention to whatever John B is saying. They look like they’re made out of wood, sanded down, and the padding looks like some kind of insulation but it probably isn’t what it actually is, some kind of foam for sure whatever it is. Towels will probably work well enough anyway. The lock is a basic padlock as far as he can tell, and John B can scrounge up something to work with. After that it’s a matter of the tech equipment, a camera, computer to stream it-

“JJ.”

“Hmm?”

“Can you do it?”

“Probably. I’d need two weeks probably. Max.”

Pope chimes in. “I don’t like this idea.”

“Don't be a chicken. This is the easiest money we’ll ever make.”

“No it isn’t! And why does it have to be JJ and me?”

John B gives a shit eating grin and replies, “Cause it’s my idea.”

He ignores their bickering and focuses on the video again. It should be doable. Get some wood, borrow a saw from the impound, a sander too. Making the frame will be easy and then he can… yea it should all work out.

“Give me two and a half weeks. I’m not getting the computer or camera, and you two are figuring out how to get people to watch. We can film at the Chateau next Tuesday. I’ve got to go get things and start. See you later.”

OBX OBX OBX OBX OBX OBX OBX OBX

JJ sets the last padding in while Pope fiddles with the camera, and John B sits on the computer announcing, “People are coming into the lobby.”

Testing the padding against his wrist and says. “I’m done.”

Pope groans. “If I say I’m not, can we give up?”

“Not a chance, I want that money.”

“C’mon Pope, I’ll be here the whole time.” John B says it with a smirk and JJ rolls his eyes.

“Are you trying to comfort him or make this harder?”

Pope opens his mouth when JJ gets in front of him.

“Listen. You want to walk, you walk, but then you don’t get a cut. If you stay, think of it as adding to your college fund. I don’t care either way, but you have as long as it takes John B to get me in to make up your mind.”

He moves back over to his masterpiece: a pair of double stocks. Honestly if Pope backs out, JJ’s going to be pissed he went through the trouble of making it a double but he’s been Pope’s friend long enough to know that the threat of exclusion will almost always get the desired result. Sure enough, as John B finishes settling the padding around JJ’s ankles, Pope is slipping his ankles into the other set of holes, grumbling but still doing it.

John B straps him in without saying anything, returns to start the camera, and then moves to sit next to the stocks where he isn’t in the shot and can see the computer screen. He’s impressed; the image isn’t as good as the video they watched but it isn't bad. He can see his and Pope’s feet front and center, and the rest of their bodies a little further back. On a tray under their feet are various tools. He was sent to pick a few up with Pope who of course freaked out the whole time.

The stream lobby is already filling up, fifteen viewers with pockets ready to pay them to get tickled… or do the tickling in John B’s case at least. Considering that it’s only been open for a minute, fifteen isn’t that bad; he guesses their advertising campaign worked well. Well, if you can call him and Pope modeling their feet for John B to take photos of and post their sizes with a shitty feather graphic advertising. Still, it got a ton of comments and promises to be there and it seems at least some of those were open.

“Alright,” John B announces to the camera, his voice relatable and cheerful for the watchers, “we’re going to get started in just a few minutes, let’s just go over the rules. For a donation of five dollars, you get fingers on whichever pair you want for three minutes. For ten, you can make that six minutes or use a tool for three. For fifteen, you can do a tool for six minutes. If you just want to let us know you’re liking all this, say it with a dollar.”

The chat is already exploding with comments, no money yet, which is a bummer, but the interest is there. His toes curl and flex absently as he reads people wanting to see his feet tickled. There are some weirdos in the chat for sure. Next to him, Pope looks terrified.

“The donations are open, tell us what you want to see.”

JJ watches as a message pops up, five dollars for him. John B reads it, sets a timer, and starts in. He has no problem tossing his head back and laughing as dull nails scrape up and down his soles. He’s glad he’s high right now or else he’d probably hate it more, but there was no way he was going into this sober. If this all works out, he’ll be rolling in dough. John B doesn’t have much technique anyway despite knowing that his friend watched videos on it. Basically he’s just scraping his nails up and down JJ’s soles and he’s ticklish enough that it works.

It isn’t a bad three minutes, actually it feels pretty short but it’s also only the first round and when John B lets up, he’s able to read chat which is calling him cute, and talking about how great his laugh is which feels pretty nice. They’re also talking about how cute his feet are, but he supposes they’re allowed to be weird since he’s making money off of them. Another dono pops up, ten for a brush on Pope’s feet.

He watches, and laughs, as Pope’s toes curl all the way up and he tries to back away, but JJ made the stocks escape-proof. John B grabs the brush even though Pope lets out a series of warnings for him not to come any closer. At first contact, Pope is howling.

JJ can’t really turn to watch it live, but he can watch the playback on the computer and watch the comments section. They’re meaner to Pope and call him a bitch but several comment that he also has a nice laugh and one says that chocolate soles are better looking.

It seems the time is even shorter when Pope is getting tickled because the timer goes off so quickly.

There’s a bit of a back and forth, donos. It’s not bad. Mostly he thinks the haze of weed helps, at the very least it’s probably giving him an edge over Pope who freaks out with every touch.

Things get amped up when a ten dollar donation comes in with no request for tickling, but instead oil on both sets of feet. Pope starts protesting and saying that isn’t in the options but John B doesn’t pay any attention as he picks up the bottle of baby oil and douses JJ’s first foot. The rubbing feels pretty nice honestly but he’s busy reading the chat and not paying too much attention except when John B hits a sensitive spot.

Chat’s going crazy though. Apparently they like when he flaps his feet, which is one of the only movements he has in stocks. He decides to do it once John B finishes oiling up his soles and moves on to Pope, who protests. His efforts are rewarded by several dollar donos, and more comments about how cute he and his feet are. Personally, he thinks they look weird all shiny but if it gets them more cash, he’s not above doing it.

When John B moves, he can see both his soles and Pope’s in the feedback from the stream, both now shiny and dripping with oil. Apparently, chat finds it hot, and lets them know. JJ wiggles his toes as he reads off the list of donos to John B that they got during the oil application.

“They’re all for you?” John B asks, confused.

He shrugs and replies with a smirk, “That’s what I get for showing off the goods I guess.”

It drives chat even more nuts even though Pope rolls his eyes. The other boy seems happy to be left out of the current tickling.

John B sets about using the variety of tools and techniques on his feet and, simply put, it tickles like hell. He bursts out as brushes on his heels turn to paintbrushes between his toes, fingers scratching his arches. The tickling continues for quite a while longer before John B breaks off. He’s panting, but he figures out why he gets a break when Pope breaks out with panicked laughter.

With the attention shifted off of him, JJ is able to go back to reading chat. They’re making fun of him and Pope but whatever, the shit they say has nothing compared to what he’s been called at home and honestly, it’s plain funny.

When the tickling comes back to him, it’s pipe cleaners between his toes -- which is a bitch -- but listening to Pope deal with it next is fun, so whatever.

Just when he thinks chat can’t get any weirder, a dono pops up, twenty dollars. The dono message is straightforward but JJ has to read it three times. It promises to double that amount if John B licks Pope’s feet.

When John B reads it, Pope protests right away.

“No. Not happening. That’s gross and weird.”

“It’s my tongue!”

JJ frowns and says, “Suck it up, that’s a ton of money!”

“Gross!” Both reply in unison.

“He showered before this. C’mon on, that's a huge dono to just waste!”

“It isn’t your foot!”

“Or your tongue!”

“It is my wallet. Make with the licking.”

Finally, John B does the sensible thing and lets his greed get the better of him and he turns back towards Pope’s feet, in the preview of the stream, JJ watches Pope’s toes curl and then hears the sharp burst of laughter as tongue makes contact. When John B’s head moves away, JJ can see the shiny trail of saliva on Pope’s foot as both look disgusted but a forty dollar dono arrives as promised.

In all, the stream lasts an hour and by the end of it, JJ’s soles are bright red from the tickling and his voice is hoarse but fuck did they make a lot of money. He’s pocketing a hundred and fifteen dollars and that isn’t bad. John B ends the stream and lets them out. Pope complains but he won’t when he puts the money into his college fund, and after that JJ might be able to convince him to get stocked again next week. He could get used to making bank like this!

#ticklestory #ticklishfeet #ticklefic #ticklishboys #tickle content #tickle thoughts #sfw tickling community #ticklecontent #ticklecommunity #tickle fic #tickles

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richricciardo · 2 years

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The Man In Blue

Mystery - Suspense - American

The town was snuggled peacefully between two small mountains. It contained one road with one stoplight at the center of town with charming brick houses south of the light and to the north, a single gas station and a few essential businesses. The 122 residents lived simple lives, going to their nine-to-five jobs and spending time with their families and neighbors.

Nothing happened in this town. It was quiet, with few visitors and even less crime. The people of the town knew each other well and had for generations. Everybody loved the seclusion, having no desire to grow or progress. They were simple people with simple lives in a simple town.

Every house was occupied. Every house but one, the biggest house in the neighborhood. A vibrant red-brick mansion with a tall, rusting black gate guarding it rested at the farthest south lot. Vines clung to it and the grass grew tall around it, hiding the front steps up to the bolted-shut door. Contrary to its outward condition, the inside was well kept, the furniture in pristine condition besides the layer of dust. It comprised two stories and a basement. A balcony from the master bedroom displayed a beautiful view of the mountains and a stream flowing down into the valley. It was, by all accounts, a wonderful place to live.

But it remained vacant for as long as the town people could remember, or at least that’s what they told the few people that asked. Few went near it, and even the kids and teenagers avoided it. They steered clear, moving to the other side of the street, and when people would drive into town, they always had the urge to speed up when passing the property. Nobody knew why, but it felt like the mansion was watching them. Nobody tried to move in and nobody tried to tear it down. The few people who ventured near the front gate felt intense horror at the sight of it, either freezing or running away. Those who froze would pass out and somebody would have to come retrieve them and take them to the town clinic. But nobody would speak about these things. After each occurrence, the people would seem to forget and move on with their normal, small town life.

One summer afternoon, a visitor drove into town. A man in a 2001, black Honda Accord stopped at the gas station. He stepped out of his car, sporting a high end baby blue suit coat, white undershirt and a Stetson hat pulled low over his eyes. He walked across the parking lot and into the Shell. He lifted his wrist, the time on his Rolex showing three-thirty. Mr. Benson, the cashier, stared at him. What was a man like this doing in this town? His outfit certainly didn’t match his vehicle, either.

The man went straight to the back of the store and returned a few minutes later with a monster energy drink and sat in on the counter.

“Is that all?” Mr. Benson asked, still unable to see the man’s eyes.

“Yes,” the man grinned, “Just a little monster to keep me going.”

Mr. Benson scanned the drink, and the man handed him a ten-dollar bill.

“So, where ya headed??”

A smile grew wide across the man’s face. “Here,” he said as he grabbed the monster.

“Visiting family?”

“You could say that.”

The man turned and exited before any more questions could be asked. Mr. Benson couldn’t contain his curiosity, so he stepped outside just as the Honda pulled onto the main road, heading south at a leisurely pace. Which house would he stop at? The Honda drove past the Carlsons, the Tysons, and the Manheins. It continued on, passing house after house, and Mr. Benson wondered if the man was lying. The car grew smaller and slowed as the houses ended and the mountain tunnel began. Then the car stopped. It stopped next to the mansion.

The man stood at the entrance, smiling up at his old friend. He retrieved a black key from his pocket, unlocked the gate and strode up to the front door. He slipped another key into the lock and the door creaked as it swung open. The man stepped in and disappeared into the darkness.

Little Bobby Selton watched wide-eyed from her bedroom window across the street. People weren’t allowed to go into that house, so why had that nice-looking man gone in? She jumped off her bed and tiptoed into the hallway, past her sleeping sister, and peered around a corner into the living room. Her mother faced away from her phone to her ear. Bobby slid across the living room entrance to the front door and slipped on her shoes. Maybe the house was safe to go inside. She closed the door calmly and meandered across the street.

The mansion loomed above her, mysterious and enticing. It would be a perfect place for hide and seek. She reached for the lock, but it slid open before she touched it. Was this a magic house? Bobby leapt across the threshold and onto the cracked brick sidewalk and skipped up to the front door. She didn’t feel like the people in all those stories her mother told her. Her heart beat faster, but instead of fear, she felt excitement. She hopped onto the porch and rapped her fist against the door.

“Bobby! Where are you?” Bobby’s mother stepped onto the front porch and froze in horror. The mansion door opened and a tall shadowy figure bent low, grabbed Bobby’s hand and pulled her into the house, slamming the door shut. Bobby’s mother turned and walked back into her house and redialed Mr. Benson.

The town hall filled with residents, all huddled together with doom written on their faces. Mr. Benson detailed his account of the man entering the abandoned mansion, causing a stir. Then Bobby’s mother stood up and recounted what had happened. “I have a terrible knot in my stomach about this man. I’m afraid for my only daughter, Sandy. I don’t want her or any of the children near that house.”

The townspeople dispersed, rushing to their homes and peeking behind closed curtains at the mansion at the end of the street. It grew more dangerous in their minds and infiltrated their thoughts. The peaceful, small town became one with hushed voices and untrusting thoughts. Something bad was going to happen, something that had happened before, but nobody could remember. Nobody would speak of it, but they all dreaded the day that man reappeared.

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chxrrylime · 2 years

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past 18, cis male reader, scoops steveo

how about some work-time fun? perhaps the reader is being a filthy customer, trying to hit on Steve while he's working but Steve doesn't flirt back cause there are other customers around at the time. reader asks for a pop-sickle rather than an ice cream wink wink but, of course, Scoops Ahoy only sells ice cream, so he buys a whole lot of it (in one of those big bowls I don't know the name of) the reader stays, sucks on the spoon and makes eye-contact with Steve all the time.

when Steve's shift is over, he walks over to the reader's table (there is nobody around by that time) and plants his hand onto the table. tells the reader to follow him to the backroom cause he has a pop sickle back there which he could give him, all the while it's clear that he's hard cause the only thing which is covering his tent is the apron over it.

filthy backroom blowjob with some dominant steve who is being a bit rough with the reader cause they teased him all day... you can take it even further in any direction if you please ;))

as always, hope you have a lovely writing! from your number one fan <3

Ugh this is so hot 🥵 Thank youuu my number one fan <3 Sorry if the formatting is a little off I’m posting from my phone!

↪ 1520 words — 18+ / SMUT — tw for deep throating, breath play, man-handling, and mention of public sex.

Content tags — cis male submissive reader / cis male dominant Steve / blowjobs, masturbation.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you grin, leaning forward on the counter. Steve frowns, glancing at the customers behind you as you seem to settle in. You lower your voice to a murmur so only he can hear, a wide grin on your face, “when’s your 30, Stevie? Was hoping maybe you’d sneak me a big and juicy popsicle.”

Steve’s face flushes and he clears his throat, readjusting the stupid little sailor hat on his head as if that’ll help anything, “we don’t sell popsicles,” he says, rather loudly.

You look over your shoulder to catch the few heads that turn to eye him as he turns a deeper shade of red. You roll your eyes and turn your gaze back to him, “real subtle,” you chuckle, “missing out on quite the sweet treat, Harrington, I guarantee.”

You push off of the counter, rocking back on your heels as you examine the flavor options. Steve stands opposite you, fidgeting awkwardly, antsy for you to order and hopefully leave before he pops a boner. There’s no way the thin cotton shorts and little apron will hide anything, and he won’t be able to live down that kind of embarrassment, especially if Robin notices. And Robin will notice. She notices everything.

“I’ll get a vanilla sundae,” you grin. You can hear the middle-aged woman behind you tapping the tip of her flats as her child becomes more restless.

You grin as Steve sighs, puttering around to grab the sprinkles and a large bowl—scooping the ice cream and then moving to the hot fudge machine. He fidgets with it, slapping it with a frustrated grunt, finally getting it to spurt out some chocolate sauce.

He slides the bowl towards you, “Uh, three dollars,” he says, pecking at his register with single digits “please,” he tacks on like an afterthought.

You slide him a crumpled up five, “keep the change. Tip for the tip I’m getting later,” you grin, watching him sputter.

You move away and cackle at him whisper-yelling “worth more than two dollars!” Before he’s forced to delve into his whole voyage of flavor spiel with the permed bob cut bitch behind you.

You sit down within view of the counter, making sure to keep Steve’s attention on you whenever he’s not busy with a customer. He tries to avoid your gaze, but can’t help how his eyes draw back to you like a magnet each time, watching how you performatively let some of the vanilla ice cream dribble down your chin, thick and creamy—or how you playfully lick the spoon while holding eye contact.

He nibbles his lip and turns away, cleaning the counter for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. You eat slowly, watching as customers file out and Robin and him begin to go through the process of closing down the store. You’re nearly done with your ice cream when Robin finally leaves and Steve approaches your table.

He leans with his hip popped out against the table, his arms crossed. You lick your lips at the tent in his shorts, eye-level and pushing up underneath his apron. He clears his throat and your eyes snap up to his face, twisted into an annoyed scowl, heat in his eyes.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” He says lowly. All the lights save for a few have been switched off, casting Steve’s face in shadow. You shiver, goosebumps rising up on your flesh in anticipation as you give him a sly smirk and a nod.

He huffs, turning to glare out past the metal grate into the darkened mall before glancing back at you, twisting and planting his hand on the table, looming, “I was wrong earlier,” he says, a small and amused smile gracing his features, “we have popsicles out back if you’re interested,” he jerks his head to the side, nodding towards the back room.

You grin, grabbing your bowl and following him as he heads behind the counter and through the double doors. You toss the bowl and spoon into one of the industrial sinks, gasping as Steve presses up against you from behind, shoving you forward and forcing you to grip tight at the counter to catch yourself.

You can feel his clothed cock grinding up against your ass and you moan low and deep as he begins to suck at your throat. He trails up to nip at your ear, breathing heavy against you, “such a fucking slut,” he breathes, “talking like that in public. Bet you’d let me fuck you in front of a whole crowd of people, huh? Or maybe drop to your knees and suck me off, show everyone how you choke on it.”

Your cock twitches at his words and you moan brokenly, going easily as he pulls you back and turns you around, grabbing your shoulders before shoving you onto your knees. You wince at the hard tile colliding with your knees, your prick beginning to fill out in your own shorts despite it.

He makes quick work of the little apron, tugging his shorts down just enough to pull his cock and balls out. You stare up at him, eyes half-lidded and panting as he grips the base of his dick, the other grabbing at the back of your head to hold you in place as he feeds it into your hot, wet mouth.

He groans deep as you suck him down, pulling at his hips to encourage him to slip down your throat. You choke and groan, the noises you make spurring him on. He moves both his hands to grip at your head, holding you in place as he starts to thrust into your mouth hard and fast, balls slapping against your chin.

You can feel your eyes begin to sting and unfocus, warm tears streaming down your cheeks and drool dribbling out of the corner of your mouth to collect at the tip of your chin. You inhale sharp and shallow through your nose, working your muscles around his prick as he forces it down your throat with each thrust, groaning and gasping above you.

“Throat’s so tight,” he murmurs, breathing heavy as he bucks into your mouth. You mewl in response, fumbling to pull your own aching dick from its confines, stroking yourself hard and fast, the pre dripping from your cockhead ample enough to ease the slide of skin.

He pulls his cock free to let you breathe, giving you a moment to shakily gasp for air, your hand still pumping your cock. He slowly strokes his own, his free hand gliding comfortingly through your hair, “so bratty ‘till I get you on your knees,” he says, soft and almost endearing, “should just tie you up and fuck this pretty mouth all the time. Finally get you to shut up.”

You moan in response, giving a weak nod of your head, so fucked out you’d probably agree to anything at this point if it meant getting off.

He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, hooking it in front of your teeth and tugging.

“Open,” he rasps, moving his hand back up to pull at your hair. You let your jaw fall slack, tongue lolling out with a soft little ‘aah’ that makes him grin and coo mockingly.

You expect him to shove back into your mouth, whining high and petulant when he just lays his cock on the top of your tongue, holding you in place to keep you from swallowing him down again.

“Needy,” he chides, giving his leaking prick a couple more tugs, coaxing out another spurt of pre before slapping his cock wetly against your tongue, pulling you forward to slip back into your throat.

You moan, nearly delirious with the pleasure of it all. It’s so worth it working Steve up like this—pushing him until he can’t stand it. The result always leaves you pleasantly aching and sated.

Your cock throbs and pulses in your hands as the liquid heat settles heavy and light in your stomach, your hips bucking up into your own fist, eyes rolling back as you come. Steve exhales shakily at the sight, taking advantage of your lax jaw to press flush to your face, shoving your nose against his pubic hair as he comes with a shout, rutting forward like he could somehow get any deeper into you.

You swallow around him, moaning at the taste of his spend, salty and sweet. He hisses at the overstimulation, letting his softening cock slip from your lips with a tiny gasp. His sensitive dick twitches and kicks just from the feeling of your breath hot and heavy against it, making you chuff.

You moan tiredly, letting your forehead rest against his thigh as you try to catch your breath, his fingers soothingly running through your hair.

“You can just ask when you want me to be rough, y’know,” Steve says, voice soft and raspy, “don’t have to tease me like that.”

You chuckle weakly against his leg, turning to look up at him with a sly smile, “not as fun that way.”

#smut #mine #steve x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x m!reader #steve harrington x reader

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myherowritings · 3 years

Text

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

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chrisevansjellybeans · 3 years

Text

I Love You, You Idiot | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here I am, once again writing in my favorite "we're best friends but we won't say we're in love" trope. Someone stop me.

A/N: This does not fall into the TFAWTS timeline!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angsty-ish

*not my gif*

The bass rumbled through your entire body as you tried to listen to whatever story Sam was telling to the group. You tried with everything in you to listen but the mixture of the loud music of the club and your best friend's hand just casually laying on your exposed thigh was making it very difficult. You noticed the group laugh so you let out a small chuckle but if anyone asked you would not be able to say what was so funny.

“You okay, doll?” You glanced up at Bucky, who’s blue eyes were squinted with concern. His thumb slowly rubbing circles on the spot on your inner thigh where it was rested. “You look a little out of it. Do you need me to take you home?”

Say words, Y/N. You told yourself. But forming sentences was getting harder and harder with each circular pass the pad of his thumb made.

“Uh.”

Good job. Very articulate.

You didn’t want to be that person. The person who falls in love with her super hot best friend, but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to “ruin the friendship” and then ends up sad and alone because said best friend doesn’t realize the feelings and moves on to someone else. And yet here you were. Being that cliche.

“Guys, I think I’m going to take Y/N home.” You heard Bucky say. Snapping out of whatever trance you were in you shifted away from him so his hand was no longer on your leg.

“No, I’m fine.” You stood up, strong and steady. “See? I was just thinking about some work stuff. But I’m gonna go grab another drink. Anyone want anything?”

The group shook their head and you made your way to the bar, happy to be away for a couple minutes.

Your moment of solace lasted only a few seconds though because you felt Bucky’s presence behind you. He trapped you in by placing his arms on either side of you, his chin landing on your shoulder.

“Wanna take shots?” Bucky’s voice rumbled in your ear. You really hoped he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that arose all over your skin. His breath smelled like a mix of spearmint and whiskey. A scent that if it came from any other man you would have probably been repulsed but on Bucky it was just comforting.

“Only if they’re tequila.” You turned around so you were face to face with him. Bucky gave you a cheeky smile as he waved the bartender over, ordering two shots each and then your regular drink order. As the bartender got your drinks ready, Bucky leaned down on his arms so he was even closer, your faces barely an inch apart.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Bucky smiled, pressing a slight kiss to your cheek.

“You’re mine too.” You whispered but you knew he heard you. Thank god for that super soldier hearing. Bucky stood back up and you could tell that he was on high alert, making sure that no one bumped into you or was making a beeline in the direction you guys were in.

You turned back around and placed your arms on the bar and leaned against it, your breasts pushing up slightly causing the guy next to you to take notice.

“Hey,” you glanced over as the guy next to you turned his body to fully face you. “You are the most beautiful woman at this bar.” You were amazed at how bold this guy was being. Bucky was still behind you, his arms still on either side of you. To anyone who didn’t know the two of you, it would be safe to assume that you were a couple.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” You smiled at him and leaned against Bucky’s arm a bit, to hopefully give that couple illusion even more.

Bucky was watching the interaction carefully, not yet ready to intervene but there if he needed to. You noticed his vibranium hand flex on the bar as the guy continued to flirt with you, that small action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“You wanna get out of here, pretty girl?” The guy leaned in even closer to you, officially popping the imaginary bubble you had around you. That was enough for you and for Bucky.

“Alright buddy, ease up.” Bucky pushed a hand against the guy's chest, moving him away from you. “She’s with me.”

“Relax, big guy. Why don’t you let this little mama speak for herself.” The guy stood up from his chair, he was Bucky’s height but you, Bucky and the guy knew that if it came down to it Bucky would kick his ass.

“This little mama doesn’t want to go home with you.” You said sternly. As you finished speaking, the bartender placed the shots and the drinks in front you.

“Bitch.” The guy mumbled, shaking his head and making his way around Bucky.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. His eyes blazing as he glared down at the asshole. With each second that passed you could tell his hands were tightening around the guy’s shirt.

“I called your little slut girlfriend a bitch.” He spat out. “Maybe control your woman from flirting with other men at-”

Before he could finish, Bucky slammed his fist into his face. You let out a scream as the guy fell to the ground. Everyone’s eyes now focused on the three of you. Bucky reached down and grabbed him, pulling him back up. You had to look away as blood started to pour out of his nose and down his face. It looked like Bucky was about to punch him again but you quickly put your hand on his arm. Bucky looked over at you, his chest heaving, his metal arm shifting under the stress of his grip.

“Bucky, please. It’s not worth it. Look.” You glanced at the crowd that started to form, phones out and recording.

You could see the headlines now: Winter Soldier Bar Brawl: Is he still unhinged?

You spotted Sam making his way over, his face full of concern. Turning back to Bucky you squeezed his bicep. “Please. Let’s go.”

“Buck.” Sam made it over to you. “Go, I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky heaved as he pushed the guy away from him and then grabbed your hand. He quickly threw down a crumpled hundred dollar bill on the bar and didn’t wait for the change as he pulled you through the crowd of recording phones and out of the club.

He quietly pulled you down the street until you guys ended up at least four blocks away from the club.

“I should have killed that guy.” He huffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Immediately he winced and pulled his flesh hand out. You hadn’t noticed before but his hand was definitely red and swelling. “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” You sighed as you gently took his hand in yours, turning it over and inspecting any damage. It didn’t look fractured but it was definitely sprained and going to be sore for a while. “You could have broken your hand, you fucking idiot.”

“It will heal in a couple hours. And you’re welcome.” Bucky scowled in your direction. “Next time, I’ll just let him shit talk you all night.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. If you would have waited another twenty seconds we would have gotten our drinks and probably wouldn't have seen that man again.” You glared. “Instead you had to turn into a cave man and beat on your chest and prove your dominance.” You tried to sound tough but your voice was shaking given how cold you were. You had left your jacket back in the club.

“I wasn’t proving shit, Y/N.” Bucky snapped as he pulled his hand out of yours, sliding his leather jacket off and putting it around your shoulders in a huff. “Maybe it infuriates me to hear someone talk about you like that.”

“Well it’s not all cake and ice cream for me, but you don’t see me throwing god damn punches.” You sighed as you wrapped the jacket tighter around your body. “This is going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

“Who gives a fuck.” Bucky muttered.

“You should!” You fumed. “It’s not a great look to have you out here punching random guys at bars, Bucky. Especially over nothing that important.”

“Stop talking like that. God, it’s like you are the only fucking person who doesn’t see how goddamn special and important you are.” Bucky hissed as his hand continued to throb. “So please just..stop talking.”

You snapped your mouth shut as you shot daggers at Bucky which he gladly returned. You turned away from him, calling a car to take you back to his place. You both waited in silence, Bucky only making the occasional foul exclamation whenever his hand hurt. Finally for what seemed hours the car finally pulled up. Bucky, always the gentleman even when angry, held the door open for you as you slid in closing it gently but not making any moves to get in the car. You looked up at him through the window confused but he only shook his head and tapped the car, signally for the driver to leave.

“Can you please wait.” You turned to the driver who let out an annoyed huff.

“Five minutes lady. It’s almost bar time.”

Quickly you opened the door not stepping completely outside, the air having an unforgiving bite to it now.

“Get in the fucking car, Bucky.”

“You go, you have a key. I just need some time.”

“You can take some time in your apartment. Just get in the car.” You retorted.

“I’m not getting in that car.”

“James, I swear to god.” You were fully out of the car now. You slammed the door shut causing the driver to cast an annoyed look your way. “What is your problem? We argue all the time, it’s not that serious.”

“It’s not about the argument,” he grumbled. “It’s about the fact that you are so completely oblivious to how fucking perfect you are and how it wasn’t just that guy that was staring at you but every other guy in that bar. And how angry it makes me that I just want to go up to every single of one of them and tell them to put their dicks away because you’re mine and only mine.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words.

“And I’m doing everything in power to not just shake you until you realize that I love you, and not just as my friend.”

“I-”

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” Bucky shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Get in the car, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky turned and started walking down the street.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You yelled after him. “If you don’t think that I love you back, then you really are a bigger idiot than I thought.” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“What did you just say?” He asked as he faced you again. He stayed where he was but you could see the tension start to leave his body.

“I said,” You smiled as you let out a long breath. “That I love you, you idiot.”

Before you knew it, Bucky was over to you and he had you scooped up in his arms. His mouth moved feverishly against yours, every emotion that the two of you had for each other pouring out in this one kiss. Your hands found their way up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low moan that sent vibrations through your whole body.

“Alright, lady, I’m leaving.” You both ignored the driver as he waved you off and pulled out and down the street. But you couldn’t care less because you were finally in the arms of your best friend.

“Say it again.” Bucky whispered against your lips.

“I love you, you idiot.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Loki falling in love with a Shield agent/Avenger | Loki Headcannon

Masterlist

Loki falling in love with a Shield agent/Avenger would include:

Completely hating each other in the beginning (like seriously, you want to kill each other)

Thor having to step in when it becomes heated between the two of you, and Steve never putting you on missions together.

You doing all you can to avoid him, but eventually you find out he enjoys time in the lounge library as much as you. So you either wait till he leaves or you just sit on the opposite side ignoring each other.

One day it leads to him asking you about the book you were currently on, and that led to a conversation about the one he had.

The conversations becoming more frequent, especially if you both were in the library at the same time. After weeks went by, you were surprised when he brought you a cup of tea.

You two soon fell into a civil routine where he would bring you tea, you would bring him snacks, and the two of you would read silently while occasionally engaging in conversation.

The team began to notice weeks later when neither of you voiced protest after Steve had you both paired with Bucky, Thor and him on mission. Normally the two of you would argue against it until one of you was pulled off.

No one said anything, but Thor, Steve, and Tony made comments once the both of you had left the conference room.

“Did my eyes deceive me, or did Reindeer Games and wannabe Trinity actually get along five minutes ago?” “Let’s just be grateful they did and pray it lasts the whole mission so no one ends up killed.”

When your group returned from annihilating the secret Hydra base, Loki complimented you which caught you off guard. In response, you returned the gesture however you threatened to take it back when he appeared smug. “Don’t think this makes us friends, frosty. We may be civil now but I’ll still gut you if you overstep.”

That however didn’t last because as time went on you found yourself seeking out Loki’s company whenever you were bored, in need of someone to rant to, or simply wanted to hang out with him. He appeared genuinely interested whenever you would ask him to go out to a bar or watch a movie, but that didn’t;t stop his cheeky nature.

“Careful, Y/L/N. If I didn’t know any better I would almost assume you were flirting with me.”

Tony throwing his lavish parties every month and although you normally avoided them, Loki ended up asking you to accompany him. “I hate his parties too, Y/N, but I would feel less wanting to through myself off the roof of this building if you joined me for the night.” “You seriously need to work on your game, Laufeyson.”

You first kiss happens on New Years when Tony throws an extravaganza. By now your relationship with Loki had become flirtatious and overall friendly so it was no surprise when the God of Mischief smirked at you claiming you had no choice because it was, ‘what you midgardians call tradition, right?’

One kiss becomes two, and three more take place before you call it a night. Loki walks you back to your room, and gives you one last kiss before telling you, “I knew you never hated me. Which is good because I never hated you to begin with, love.”

When the team finds out the next briefing you two are together, you vaguely see Thor being handed a twenty dollar bill by Steve, who also hands one to Tony.

Loki is the first to say ‘I love you.’ The action comes after you’re injured on a mission. It wasn’t anything major, just a simple bullet graze on your side and bloody forehead, but it’s enough to have the God enraged and kill the man responsible in cold blood. As Banner is dressing the wound on the quintet, Loki takes your hand and whispers it in your ear which results in you nearly crying and saying it back immediately.

The team annoys you both constantly. Thor and Tony argue who gets to be the one you name your kids after (Which is something you and Loki never talk about) while Steve and Bucky threaten Loki on what will happen if he ever breaks your heart. Nat, Wanda, and Peter are always wanting updates on you two, and Clint and Sam simply make snide comments whenever either of you get annoyed with them.

“I’m going to kill them, Loki.” “Remember my love, I tried once. It didn’t work.”

#Loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel #marvel headcannon #loki headcannon #marvel imagine #Tom Hiddleston

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writingfics-passingtime · 3 years

Text

Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki tickle fluff #ler!loki #ticklish!reader #marvel tickle #marvel fluff #marvel reader insert

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fredshufflepuff · 3 years

Text

all bets are on - chapter one

read prologue here

— summary: rafe makes a bet that he can sleep with you before the end of the month, not realizing it would be the biggest mistake of his life.

— warnings: talks of drug use and drinking, language

— word count: 785

RAFE woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and strong urge to throw up, immediately turning to his side and groaning from the wave of nausea.

“you good bro?” topper asked, rafe’s ears perking up as he opened his eyes to stare at the boy, at least a dozen empty solo cups in his arms.

“feel like shit.”

“you look like it too,” he said, causing the very much hunger-over rafe to flip him off.

kelce had dipped with some girl last night leaving the two boys alone to clean the trashed mansion, along with kick out the hungover teens.

“what happened last night?” rafe groaned as he grabbed an already opened water bottle and took a long drink from it.

“you don’t remember?” topper asked, causing his friend to raise a brow and shake his head.

“shit man, you’re sleeping with y/n y/l/n.”

AFTER topper explained what happened last night and the bet they made, rafe didn’t know what to feel.

he was ecstatic to now have a reason to talk to you, but felt like shit for even bringing up the idea.

how low could he be to bet five hundred dollars on sleeping with you? but his feeling of guilt and disgust didn’t stop the next words from leaving his mouth.

“get ready to be five hundred dollars less, tops.”

THE wreck was somewhere rafe and his buddies went to eat regularly, so when you saw him enter the restaurant during your shift—you weren’t surprised.

“is y/n working?” rafe asked causing the host to look up from her tablet before nodding her head.

“would you like her?”

and that’s how the three boys were sat with you, put in a small booth in the corner of your section as you said goodbye to your last table.

“rafe cameron?” you asked, your eyebrows bunched together as your coworker nodded in response.

“he asked for you.”

“me?” your jaw dropped slightly as you then groaned quietly under your breath, “why me?”

your coworker gave you a sympathetic look before patting your back and leaving the counter to tend to her tables.

you smoothed your apron out before putting on a smile and making your way to their table, already dreading what was about to happen.

“hi guys how are you doing today?” you asked with a fake smile as you passed around napkins for their drinks.

“better now that you’re here,” rafe said, topper elbowing him in the side as him and kelce snickered.

you fought back an eye roll and instead just kept the smile on your face, the grip on your notepad tightening.

“my name is y/n and i’ll be your server today, what can i get started for you?”

rafe pretended to look at the menu before looking back up at you, your stomach dropping—and not in a good way.

“are you on the menu?”

you bite the inside of your cheek before tucking your notepad in your apron, “i’ll give you guys a minute.”

you then dropped your smile and walked off with a scoff, your mood seeming to plummet by the second.

who do these guys think they are walking in here and bothering you like this? are they that bored from golf and their little country clubs they need to come to your work and bother you?

“have they made you mad already?” your coworker asked, leaning herself against the counter while counting her tips.

“wanna switch sections?” you asked with a hopeful smile, her eyes going wide as she laughed under her breath, “please, i’ll do your cut work.”

“those boys are not worth it.”

ALMOST two hours later had the boys finally finished their meals and payed the check, as soon as they were done you couldn’t be happier for them to leave.

“have a nice day,” you smiled while holding back your tongue, quickly turning around and stalking off to greet your next table before they could comment.

you saw them leave the restaurant from the corner of your eye, a small breath of relief leaving your lips as you went to clean the table they sat at.

you collected the dirty plates and cups before dropping them off in the kitchen and then coming back to collect your tip.

your eyes scanned the separate checks from the three boys— kelce left eight, topper eight and rafe twenty.

wait twenty?

your eyes widened a little as your brows furrowed together. why did he tip so much when his check wasn’t nearly that much?

you didn’t bother to question it and instead tucked the tips away with the rest of them, but not before letting your eye catch something.

you saw that rafe had written his number on his check along with a note.

‘text me beautiful xxx-xxx-xxxx’

fuck.

— rafe cameron tag list 🏷 @jordynsharum @sksliz @angelreyesgirl100

— all bets are on tag list 🏷 @sunnybunnyy2 @galactaghost @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @i4maybank @acklestan0 @gillybear17 @multtix @merc12-us

#rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #obx rafe #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe angst #rafe fluff

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bittermuire · 3 years

Text

a nightlight and a bottle of wine

recently I’ve really loved nezriel and wanted to write a lil thing for them. this will be two parts, this is the first. modern au

---

It’s not like Nesta really knew what she was doing when she moved out. All she knows is that there is a rift between her and Feyre; a scar splitting their shared skin, a wound opening and reopening, never to heal.

And so she’s away. They’ve made their mistakes and let them be. They’ve hurt each other and even tried to love, but sisters love each other too much for love—and so she’s away. The guilt is still there, but farther from her, now. Nesta stirs it into her morning coffee and drinks the sleep, wiping it from beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth.

Every so often Cassian will text her, inviting her out to dinner or to a work party, and Nesta resists the urge to throttle him. He’s a very smart, thirty-five year old man. He should know what cutting off someone means.

(He knows, of course he knows. She guesses he just thinks it doesn’t apply to him.)

His roguish charm, his smirk, his low voice, all inviting her to one thing—sex—was beginning to exhaust her. It’s a surprising relief to be away from him. She feels like she can wear tank tops and let her hair down and go out without a bra, relieved he won’t be there to stare.

(Was she really so afraid of him?)

So Nesta lives her life and drinks her coffee, wears her tank tops and sleeps in her underwear, finally a woman in the way she’s always wanted to be; she feels discrete from the rest of the world but in a near comforting way. She has no one to disappoint, no one to miss. Her world is confined to very few people and her mind allows for one.

•

But there are things that trip her up. Remaining ties.

One such: the nightlight clipped to her bed. It’s cheap, a gaudy silver. She’s sure Azriel bought it for no more than two dollars.

But she uses it every night.

(This trips her up.)

It’s a routine she’s given to herself, written into the margins of her life; she climbs into bed, smooths the blankets over her legs, grabs her book, opens it on her lap, then twists and switches on the light. It illuminates the page with a pretty, golden sun. She uses it religiously. She thinks that if she lost it, some intrinsic part of her might be lost as well, and this frightens her.

Remaining ties should be snipped. These last threads should be spooled up, put away, hidden in the bottom drawer.

She switches it on anyway, watches the light trace the letters.

(Sometimes she thinks she is the black stamp of letters. The utter bleakness of them on the smooth page. Sometimes she thinks she is what ruins the paper. She is what ruined the paper. There’s a reason she is here and they are there.)

•

November 19th.

Happy birthday to me.

She buys a cake from the supermarket and blows out the candle.

There’s a knock at the door, late at night. Not thinking to check, she goes to open it, and there stands Azriel, still in the doorway, bottle of wine in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he says bluntly.

She lets him in for some reason she still doesn’t understand, and they end up drinking a glass together. It’s from Cassian, the wine—his favorite. Azriel tells her that Cassian didn’t think she’d take it from him.

“So he asked you,” she says.

He smiles. “Because you like me.”

1:00 AM, and they’re still drinking. They barely talk. They just sit; they sit on the kitchen stools, then the rickety chairs, then the floor, then the couch, then back to the floor. His cheeks are pink, his words slurred.

“Why’d you come?” she asks, peering down at where he lays, splayed out, on the carpet.

(He’s not the kind for favors, she knows that.)

Opening his eyes, he fixes his gaze on her. He smiles sleepily.

“Happy birthday, Nesta.”

•

She doesn’t really celebrate for the holidays. Her apartment is bare, save a pair of twinkling bells on the kitchen counter, tied with a red ribbon. Sometimes when she’s cooking she’ll give them a little ring.

The letter comes in the mail—from Feyre, clearly put there by her own hand. It’s an invitation to dinner, for the winter solstice. They’re celebrating early this year because they’re going out of town for a few weeks.

(Please don’t feel pressured to come. We were going to leave you be but Az, since he’s so considerate, thought you might appreciate an invite.)

Nesta picks up her phone and texts Feyre a simple no thanks.

•

The next morning, she opens her door to a bottle of wine. Its neck is tied with a cherry red ribbon, and there’s a note—“If you’re ever lonely, give me a call. It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t need to see who it’s from to know.

She smiles and picks it up, taking it inside.

•

It bites, the loneliness.

She wasn’t prepared for the quiet.

She traded in insults and jabs and sweaty hands at dinner tables for nothing, nothing, nothing. Silence in the shower, silence over breakfast. Over time, it’s begun to grate on her skin, sift between the strands of her hair, and she feels like she’s swimming a meter below the surface, ears clogged, vision blurred.

And slowly, she’s started to cry; she cries when the silence is too loud, when her aloneness is real, when she realizes the ugly truth of it all. She’s alone, she has nobody, she’s alone.

She picks up her phone and dials his number. “Let’s drink your wine.”

A small quiet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know, Nesta,” he laughs. “I’ll be there.”

•

They don’t drink at all, actually. She starts crying again the minute she sees his face.

“Nesta?”

•

“I’m fine, really.”

They’re walking down the aisle of the grocery store, weeks later.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m doing better, I am.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. Pick a flavor. We’ll eat it, we’ll watch a movie.” He looks her up and down, brow creased. “You need two things—no, make that three things.”

She huffs a laugh, sticking her hand into the freezer and pulling out a carton. “What?”

“Sleep, ice cream, and company.” He grins. “And now you’ve got me.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.”

•

He’s seen her beautiful; he’s seen her ugly. He’s seen her in her rattiest apron with flour crusted into her fingernails. He’s seen her laugh so hard she cries, watched her slam her head into an open cupboard door, driven her to the hospital when she sliced her hand open with a knife. They’re together a lot, she realizes. They’re not halves; they’re one and one, and one and one make two, and they stand as two together on sidewalks, squinting at menus in the windows of restaurants, and they pet dogs in the park (Nesta always asks, because Az gets shy), and they take walks at midnight, and they live their lives contentedly next to each other’s. She starts to wonder if he splits his life into two—into Cassian and Rhys and Mor and Feyre, and into her, the girl who walked away. She’d like to know why he followed her.

Sometimes she’ll catch herself staring. Even before Cassian, she’d thought Azriel was the most beautiful of the three; all graceful, sloping shadows, soft and deep eyes, curling black hair. Her heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It skips a beat when she sees him, but calms when she’s near him. It races when he leans close, falls to steadiness when he slings his arm over her shoulders. She can’t decide if she loves him like this or loves him like that. He means so much to her, means so many different things, that to give him a singular word wouldn’t fit.

She calls him Azriel, Az, Steve, Steven Shadow, Mr. Shadow, Ralph, Ron, He of the Candied Pecans, You. He responds to all of it. Recently he told her that it wasn’t because of the name, but because of the voice—(of course I don’t know who Ralph is, Nesta, but your voice, it’s your voice you use for me)—and she felt warm for reasons she couldn’t understand.

She shows up unannounced at his apartment when it’s a bad night. He does the same.

•

“Tell me the truth,” she begins, tipsy. “Did you like me before?”

“What?”

“Did you like me before?”

He frowns. “Elaborate.”

“Before you learned I’m a nice person. Back at the townhouse. When I hated everyone and was rude to you.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little. “I always liked you,” he says, and then his face settles into something like sadness. Nesta watches him closely. “I didn’t like… the way you made me feel, though. I’d see you down the hall, tired and everything, a stick of a person, and Rhys would make some joke, and I’d hate him.”

She blinks.

He looks down. “I’d never hated him before.”

There’s a tension between them. It’s common enough to be recognizable, but not enough to be familiar. She’s on edge, unsure.

The silence seeps in.

“And I hated myself, too,” he says. His eyes flick back up to hers.

Her breath catches in her chest. “I hated myself because I didn’t do anything. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, overwhelmed. Everything is building; everything is quiet. His eyes are deep and dark and swirling. He shakes his head slightly, leaning closer, slowly, slowly, and she sees it all happen—he takes her face in his hands. She can see the stray strand of hair on his forehead, the one eyelash resting by his nose, the mole right above his mouth.

“I watched you fade,” he breathes. “I watched them pull you around.”

She twines one finger into his hair, trying to bring him closer, trying to have him closer. Come here, Azriel. Come with me. Be with me, love me, because I love you.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because it’s all she can say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, and kisses her.

•

“Wait,” he says, reaching up.

“What?”

He touches the nightlight. “You kept this?”

She laughs, curled into his side, and says, “Of course I did.” He drops a kiss to her hair. “They all bought me books. You made it easy to read them.”

—-

@acosfisfeysandpropaganda I finally wrote it!!

#nezriel #nesta x azriel #nesta archeron #azriel shadowsinger

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laketaj24 · 3 years

Text

Serotonin II

Author’s Note: Here it is! I am taking requests, and the taglist is open, drop your name under this fic or on this list if you are interested! This does have a prior part but can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Colson Baker x Reader

Warning: Smut, breeding kink

Inspo Song: Bad Things

Part I

My MASTERLIST

Colson: Busy?

Y/N: Why would I be busy?

Colson: For sure ain’t been answering my texts 🥱

Y/N: You need something, Col?

Colson: You know you only call me Col when you’re half asleep or whimpering my name when you about to cum. Let me come over.

Tongue-tied, his messages left you baffled. They were a smooth variation of sexting mixed with pleading. Every message included a very Colson apology but a rebuttal that followed and reminded you why you couldn’t fall back in the same routine with him. It was easy to picture yourself back with him, nestled against his lean frame - listening to his voice as it rumbled against his chest as he rambled on. You saw it clear as day, but the truth of the matter was he didn’t do what you required to have you back in his life. Fucking you in the bathroom of some club like a whore, giving your body a fix, but your heart and mind still felt that hesitation when it came to Mr. Baker.

“Are you listening?” Dana asked, holding up the soy powder milk for your nephew.

“I heard you clear as day.”

“You sure you didn’t just daydream the entire I talked about not feeding Jaylen after seven?” Dana placed the soy milk on the table and glanced down at her newborn. “If you’re not up to it, I can stay. I hate going out of town so soon after having him.” She tapped her soon on the back a few times and exhaled.

“We will be fine.”

“You say this, but I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“You’re head has been shot ever since you broke up with the delinquent.” She rolled her eyes. “And what pisses me off is Tyla loves him!” She whispered and turned her attention to the seven-year-old parked in front of the tv. “I mean worships him.”

“I know. Colson is good with kids.”

“Because he’s childish.” She added. “He’s basically a six variant of one.”

“You can’t say one thing nice?”

“His music isn’t shitty,” Dana added. “I will be back at eight for the both of them, and I swear not to do this again, just my boss needs me, and their dad is busy.” She lied. ��So- I love you, sis. Call Eric!” Dana kissed your cheek and sprinted out the door without another word.

Eric, you hadn’t seen him since you left the club a week ago, and you barely responded to his texts. The ride home was awkward; the entire time, he talked about how much he enjoyed the night. And the only thing you could think about was getting bent over in the bathroom by your ex. Good date.

Auntie duty had started. Diapers, Tiktok, YouTube, and some weird pig cartoon lay ahead of you for the next nine hours. Jaylen slept peacefully in his playpen, unbothered by his mother's lack while Tyla consumed her tv.

Colson: I got food open the door.

Y/N: What door?

Colson: Your apartment door. It’s Chipotle.

Fuck, you were hungry.

Y/N: Leave the food on the porch.

Colson: I’m not a god damn door dash.

The abrupt knocking startled Jaylen, soo you took him in your arms and walked to the door, “Stay in the living room Tyla.”

“K,” She answered, not even looking up from her phone.

You opened the door revealing Colson in his pink hoodie and gray joggers. He held bags of food in his hand and garnished a big smile on his face, “You look good with a baby.”

“Why are you here?”

“You wouldn’t come to see me or invite me over, so invited myself over. Can I come in?”

“No.” Jaylen stirred in your arms, his plump little legs kicked, and you sighed. “I am busy today. That’s why I didn’t invite you over. I have to keep my nieces and nephews, and every time you are over here, you either curse too much or we end up fucking.”

“Watch your mouth.” He teased.

“How were you texting with all that in your hands?” You stared at him.

“You know I got talented hands.”

“Colson!”

Why? You grimaced inwardly before looking at your overly excited niece, she loved Colson, and you hated to admit, he might be an asshole sometimes, but he loved kids. He was a wonder with them. You slapped your face, disappointed there was not a way to hide the massive man at your door. “He can’t stay.” You answered before the question left your lips.

“Why? Please!” Tyla pouted her pink lips and threw her arms up in defeat. “We never see him anymore.”

“That’s your aunt’s fault,” Colson added fuel to the fire. “I won’t stay long.” He pushed through, entering your apartment to greet Tyla with a hug at her level and a sly wink to you. Kids were the way to your heart – and his, but he would not win you over with this bullshit today. Not at all. “You hungry, Tyla?”

“Yeah, ten minutes, and you’re out.”

“Damn.”

“Tiktok?’ she held up her phone and the ring light from her purple book bag. “Please.”

“Word, what are we learning?” He raised his brows to you and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch; she was ecstatic, immediately standing to do a dance and drag you over to learn it too. Tiktok had become the bane of your existence, but for Tyla and her half a million followers, she was golden.

One hour later and you were tired, you’d perfected the dance, and Colson had convinced her to let him skip the dancing and just be—it was all he had to do though, she’d get one million views just because of who he was, and now everyone would know you were with him. Your heart dropped a little thinking about the exposure while she edited the video next to both of you.

“Why is Uncle Colson never around?” Tyla never looked up from her phone; she just continued her mission of posting that sixty-second video and ruining your life.

“He’s not your uncle.” You corrected.

“That’s your aunt’s fault too.” He added.

“Don’t start with me.” The harsh whisper came out as a warning, waking baby Jaylen from his nap and making Colson chuckle in amusement.

“I like him; I want him in the family.”

“I want a million dollars.”

“I can give you that.” He said.

“And a loyal boyfriend who doesn’t text insta-sluts in his spare time.”

“Don’t use sluts in front of her damn; your mouth is outrageous Y/N.”

The narrowing of your eyes made him burst into laughter again. He was damn good at annoying you like he had it mastered.

The day passed quickly with him making eyes at you, caring for Jaylen while she styled Colson’s hair in four ponytails atop his head, garnished with bows, and she even attempted to give him edges. He didn’t care; as long as she was happy, he was good.

“You look a mess.”

“It’s cool.” Colson snapped a picture. “Been waiting forever to see if ponytail was for me or not; it’s a no.” He sat back on the couch while Tyla disappeared to your room for god knows what else. “You look good with babies, you know?”

“You’ve said that.”

“I meant it; you’re good with them too.” He sighed. “I thought about kids with us, like every damn day.”

“Funny.” You shrugged, and she appeared with your bright pink polish. “What’re you doing, Tyla?”

“Painting his nails.” She plopped down in front of him, and without hesitation, he held his hand out for her. “We did blue last time.”

“Yep.” He exhaled. “Don’t you want this?”

He didn’t have to elaborate; you knew what he was talking about, but a family was the last thing from your mind, no matter how perfect the scenario looked right now. “Do you?”

Colson smacked his lips. “We can talk later.”

“You leaving when they do.” You reiterated.

The door opened thirty minutes later without a knock or doorbell; Dana never announced herself. “I see he found his way back in.” Her mouth dropped as soon as her eyes met him. “Tyla just had her way today, didn’t she.” She laughed. “Oh god, she gave this man braids.”

“Your daughter is talented.” He laughed. “Might be a new look.”

“Ridiculous.” She held her laughter. “Ty, get up and come on, love; we have a long drive.” She took Jaylen from your chest and gave you a look. “How long is he staying?”

“Not long, sis, drive safe.”

“I will. Colson, you leave in ten minutes, or I’m sending our brother over.” She pointed to him.

“I’m not scared of Michael; send him.” Why did his arrogance only make you want him more? He looked to Dana, who, like him, was not bothered.

“I hate him.” She mumbled as she left. “I just fucking hate him.”

“It’s mutual!” Colson laughed as the door shut. “You’re gonna stay over there the whole time?”

“Aint no reason for me to be over there for real.” You thought of three reasons to stay where you were, the drop in his voice, the tension in this room that could be cut with a knife, and when he was alone with you, your willpower was nonexistent. “You have five minutes.”

“We aren’t going to talk about this, are we? You like being evasive and shit? That you’re new persona?”

“I have no new persona. This is me not playing into all the bullshit you bring when you’re with me. This is a wall.”

“I’m about to knock that wall over.” He smirked.

“Stay on your couch.” You warned.

Colson held his hands up, acting defenseless, “I wasn’t moving from this spot.”

“My sister hates you, you know that? She literally said that I would be better off leaving Cali before staying here with your toxic ass.” You found yourself pointing at him and wanting to knock that smile from his face. Colson liked to see you get feisty with him; he called that foreplay, and here you were dancing to the beat of his drum, pissed.

“How am I toxic? I stopped all that shit for you, every ounce of it.”

“Stop lying.”

Colson grinned at you, unwavering in his position and impressed that you were persistent in yours; your usual fights lasted about one day. You’d take him back, and everything went back to how it was before, but that changed nothing; you wanted him to change. “I am not lying to you. Come here.”

You walked over to him, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you down in his lap. Facing him, you admired all the little cuts he’d earned over the years in senseless fights or accidents. Your fingers traced over them before you cupped his face. What the fuck were you doing? Why were the two of you akin to magnets? Drawing one another in half of the time and then at the flip of a side hating one another? You placed your lips on him, parting his lips with your tongue and then flicking playfully over his teeth before he caught your bottom lip with his teeth and tugged. The slight pressure made you moan against him. He cradled your neck with one hand, not allowing you to escape him. Colson deepened the kiss, adding pressure and taking what little breath you had away. “I fucking miss you, Y/N.” He rasped.

"Don't talk.”You murmured back.

Colson didn’t listen; he never listened. “You were good with them today.”

You growled, grinding your hips on him. “Shut up, Colson.”

“I want to talk to you, I want you back Y/N, shit. Like I am trying, I canceled recording sessions, appearances, and other shit all this month so we can figure this out. I don’t want to-,”

You stopped him from talking, gripping his cock through the sweats with one hand and kissing him to shut up.

“Stop.” In one fluid motion, your hands were by your side, and your eyes were on his, “We’re talking; I was not fucking other women. But I was entertaining them, and it’s no excuse. I know you’re hurt; I’m sorry. Like real talk, no joke – I apologize.”

“How do I know it won’t happen again?’

“I'll delete all this shit for you,” He admitted. “Fuck a platform.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dead ass right now. Fuck it all. I just want you.”

“If it happens again, I am never taking you back, ever.”

“It won’t.” He whispered, loosening the grip on your hands.

You took advantage of the notion, moving your hand down to his cock, rubbing the hilt through his sweats again.

“Nah,” He gripped your hair, pulling you back, so your eyes met him. “It’s my turn now.” He pushed aside your shorts in seconds, and his fingers plunged into your pussy, curling for a moment and then spinning out of you. He placed his fingers on your lips, “Open up.” You didn’t hesitate to take his fingers, licking your own juices from them, and he tapped your face sending a slight pleasurable sting. “How you taste?”

“Ready.” You pulled him from the sweats feeling him jump at your cool hands, and stood up, wriggling out of the shorts before hovering back over him again.

Colson playfully tosses you on your couch, draping one leg to the ground. “Let me taste.” He whispered as he descended between your legs. Colson’s fingers brushed your swollen clit, before his lips latched on, sucking. You bowed from the couch, the moans and scratched to his shoulders done nothing but encourage. He lapped up your juices before diving his tongue into you and swirling around. You gasped, surprised and pleased as he worked.

“Col-“ You gripped his shoulders, lifting yourself from laying down, and he took full advantage, pulling you onto his face and fucking you with his tongue. Your body coiled, the jolts of pleasure popped around your body, and then you came. The white-hot energy surged through your body, and you panted, shaking, almost collapsing back on the couch. He caught you peppering the wet kisses from your pussy to your mouth.

“You good?”

“Better than.” You whispered, breathing heavily. “ Shit.”

“We’re not done.” Of course, you weren’t; his cock throbbed against his leg, waiting to ruin your life, and here you were still out of breath. Colson gently pulled you from the couch, sitting you in his lap, and he started once again with the kisses. You could taste yourself on his lips, and for some reason, that just made you wetter for him. He took advantage of stroking himself before he lowered you down on him. You took every inch, mouth slightly open and hair swinging the entire time. You pressed your breast against his chest, savoring the warm feeling of his cock inside of you, and then you started moving on him. Your muscles clenched around, gripping him with each stroke. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone; you took that added pleasure in stride biting your lip as it intensified every time your skin met.

Colson’s eyes were hooked on you, his fingers dug in your ass, guiding you up and down on his cock, urging you to keep going, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop. You could feel it building once again, this time bigger. “Hold it.” He whispered, knowing you were about once more. “Not yet.”

“Ah,” Impatience grew over you; you slowed your ride, winding your hips slowly, your eyes closed as you took over, fucking up into you, guiding your body to take more. “I can’t.” You whined as you fought to hold the orgasm back.

“Yeah, you can.” He slammed into you harder, knocking the breath from you, your toes curled, and you screamed as you shook against him. “I wanna feel that pussy shake around me when I cum; hold it.” He slapped your clit with three fingers, and your breath hitched. “Hold it.” His hand travels up your shirt to your bare stomach, and he kisses you once more. “Y/N.” His hips rocked slowly, but then he started to fuck you quicker, the tip of his dick hitting your g-spot each time. You were a screaming mess, biting down on his shoulder. That done the trick he spasms against you growling. His warm cum triggered you. You came, sinking down and taking all of it. “Shit, you cheated.”

“You would’ve lasted forever.” You smiled lazily.

“Is that a complaint or a compliment?”

“Both.”

You wince, sliding off him, “right.” He rolled his eyes. “Now we gotta eat reheated Chipotle.” he stood up, fixing his pants. “Can I stay?”

“I guess.” You pulled the blanket over you, snuggling into your favorite place on the couch. He heads into the kitchen, and you reach for your phone, wondering what threat your sister had for you.

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

This was not your phone; of course, it wasn’t. You unlocked the phone, clicking her name to look at the messages. But there is only red as Colson makes his way back into the living room. You throw the phone across the room, hitting the wall, and he stares at you. “What the fuck?”

“Take you and that Chipotle and get out.”

“Damn, what the Chipotle do?”

A/N: One more part coming. I’ll drop it next week, I think! Thank yall for reading! Let me know what you think!!

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