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wicchyy · 4 months

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—0.5 flipped ; james potter

sum: you’ve been obsessed with James since you met him, but he doesn’t feel nearly the same. then, he’s flipped.

warnings: James throwing his breakfast in the trash

notes: this was inspired by the movie ‘flipped’. delulu girls win!!! sorry for being a bit too long, this is different from my usual works !

These are all the things people know about James Potter; he’s a skilled quidditch player, one of the smartest students in your grade, a lightweight, and he can manage his time well between practice, classes, and parties.

But those things, they’re just surface stuff. These are what you know about James Potter; he has the most beautiful brown curls, hazel eyes that change between brown and green depending on the sunlight, a delirious laughter, and the most flirty drunk you’ve ever known.

Sirius introduced you to James during your second year. And since the moment you saw him, robes askew, chocolate smeared all over his cheeks, and glasses slanted on his face— you’ve been in love with him since.

Maybe it was love at first sight, the plausible explanation. Or perhaps it was obsession. Either way, you haven’t paid attention to anyone other than James Potter himself.

“Hey, Siri. Hi, Remus. Have either of you seen James? I thought you lot finished practice minutes ago.”

Sirius nodded, chewing down the rest of his waffles before replying. “Mhm. Doing extra rounds, Prongs looks a bit stressed on the field today.”

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands together, “I’ll just bring some breakfast down for him.”

“Actually, Y/n! I don’t think you should—“ Remus interferes.

“Don’t worry, Remus. I’ll be sure to get two waffles. I know he gets hungry after practice.”

Remus tried to protest again, but Sirius waved him off with a look that said ‘what can we even do to prevent it?’

…

In the middle of December, snow covers the Hogwarts ground. You’re careful as you hold onto the napkin that holds James’ breakfast. The quidditch field isn’t far off the castle grounds, so you make haste of your movements and quickly head to the entrance of the Gryffindor locker rooms.

“James?” You shout, stepping inside until you see the one and only locker door open and the curly headed boy lying on the wooden bench in the middle of the room.

He immediately stands up, the voice all too familiar for him to not flinch. “Y/n?”

You appear in front of him with a wide smile, grinning happily as you set the breakfast in front of him on the bench. “Hi! You didn’t come for breakfast so I asked Siri where you where and he mentioned you’re practicing extra by yourself. So I figure you’d be—“

“Y/n!” James shouts louder.

“.. So I figured you’d be hungry.” You finished, your voice lower this time like you’d been caught red handed at something.

“Thanks. But no thanks.” He smiles forcefully. He grabs at the napkins holding the waffles and two pieces of strawberry, crumpling it in his hands and aiming it for the big black bin at the corner of the room.

Of course it lands perfectly inside, and he huffs an angry breath as he takes in your flushed, ashamed look.

“Look, just like you noticed, I wasn’t at breakfast. Because I don’t want breakfast. I’m not in the mood, yeah, Y/l/n? And I don’t need you trailing after me like a lost fucking puppy you want to feed breakfast. I’m not your anything, understand?”

Harsh. His words struck you in the gut. Maybe you should’ve listened to Remus earlier. James had never been practicing late unless he was ordered to. And you should’ve remembered it was winter as well. No one would willingly practice more quidditch than required in the harsh December winds.

“I— I’m sorry.” Your face flushed. You had to admit, you’d never been so embarrassed quite like this moment before. “I thought it’d be a nice thing.”

James stood up, picking up his towel, a spare shirt, and his knit beanie and stuck it in his locker before banging it roughly.

“If I haven’t made myself clear all these years, Y/n, let me make it clearer. I’m not interested.” He scoffed. “And I won’t be fucking interested because you bought me breakfast.”

You were left standing in embarrassment. Your eye making contact just a second with James, then to the bin where the breakfast you had bought for him was thrown in.

“Just back off, Y/n. I mean in.”

…

James had been feeling pretty guilty for the whole week. Yes, he was annoyed by you at the moment and yes, he’s always been annoyed by you. But all the times he’s ever been annoyed with you, none of those times has he said something like that. And after careful realisation, he’s understood that his words may have hurt you a tad bit.

He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how. Especially not to you. So he doesn’t. James doesn’t apologize for weeks, and then a month, and then he finally comes to terms with the fact that his brain somehow misses your annoying face, your annoying voice, and your annoying personality always annoying him.

“I have a question.” James interrupted his friends who were mountain deep in their homework.

“Hm.” Sirius shot lowly while he closed his subject book, “Go on. Think I’m done for the day.”

Remus shot his eyes at the interaction between his friends, leaning back on his seat to pay attention to James.

“So, you lot know about the incident a month ago, yeah?”

Sirius scoffed, “Mate, the bin waffle? Course we know!”

“Not really something to brag about, Prongs.” Remus chimed in.

“Look, I know. I’ve done some thinking and—“

“You wanna apologize to her?”

James stayed silent, “Well, I—“

Remus shot his friend a look of pity, “Honestly, you should’ve done it months ago. We know you may not like her, but she’s still mine and Pads’ close friend. And yes, she’s done so many things to annoy you but ..”

Sirius continued, “But it was a really shit thing to say. And you were fucking rude! I mean honestly, Prongs! Throwing out the waffles? Not necessary!”

“I know, I know. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about it recently and I want to apologize, really. But I dunno— things are just confusing.”

“How is it confusing? You just need to walk over to her and apologize.” Remus shrugs.

“That’s not it, Moony. It’s more confusing, like— I don’t even know how to explain it, y’know. Like, I used to be so fucking annoyed and pissed when she’s around. But now, it’s like somethings missing. Something like .. her.”

Sirius scoffs, “Shut the fuck up!”

James looks confused, “What—?”

“Shut up!”

“Literally not saying a word.”

Sirius stands up, “James Potter!” his hands banging on the table until the librarian is ordering him to calm down.

Remus looks up at him and pulls Sirius’ hand to sit back down at his chair. “Maybe you should tell him quietly.”

“I love how much you don’t notice, mate. You’ve got a crush on her, Prongs!”

James scoffed, his arms immediately crossing. “No I don’t.”

“Yes, you very much do.” Remus replied.

Sirius smiles, “You may not have liked her when she was bothering you, but you sure are thinking of her when she’s gone.”

“That’s nothing. It’s just cause I feel bad.”

“No you don’t!”

“I actually do, Pads. That’s why I’m bringing this up.”

Sirius scoffs with a wide smile, “No you’re bringing this up because you need to talk about it.”

“Well— yes. Because I need advice on how to apologize.”

“No, mate. Prongs, you’ve totally got a crush on her!”

“I don’t!”

“You’re so stubborn, mate. You know that saying ‘you lose them and then you know’? Thats you!”

Remus interjects, “Actually, the saying is ‘you don’t realize what you’ve got till it’s gone’. But yes, I do think it resembles this situation.”

“It doesn’t resemble anything. Besides, if she is here right now I’m positive I’d be annoyed just the same. I just feel bad for the .. waffle incident.”

“Wrong. Don’t believe it.”

Sirius looks across the table where James is and gives him a dumbfounded look. “Alright, fine. If you really think that, then what d’you say to a bet, huh? We prove that you’ve got feelings for her and if we succeed you pay for all your drinks whenever we go out for a whole month.”

James rolls his eyes, “And how would you prove that? She’s not even talking to me.”

Remus shoots Sirius a coy smile, the gears in his head turning as he makes up a plan in his head. “Well we’d just apologize to her for you and ask her to hang out with us. Then we’ll see your reactions and … other things.”

“Perfect plan!” Sirius chimes excitedly.

“I don’t agree to all of this.”

“That’s cause you’re scared to show us you actually do have a crush on Y/n.”

“One, I don’t. And second, fine. I’ll agree. But if this doesn’t prove anything and I’m right all along that I do not have a crush on her, you both will be doing my Arithmancy for a month.”

“Really? Why’d you even take that elective?” Sirius scoffs.

James smirks and extends his hand for a shake, “Deal?”

Remus shakes James’ hand quickly as his boyfriend beside him makes a sound of protest. “Moony! It’s Arithmancy, I thought we’d just have a counter agreement.”

“Come on, Pads, I’ll be doing all the work anyways.”

…

You clutched your books tightly, the familiar weight providing little comfort as you walked the corridors of the castle. Resentment and annoyance simmered within you since the incident with James.

As Sirius and Remus approached you after class, your expression soured. "What do you two want now?"

Sirius cleared his throat, putting on a cheery facade. "Hey, Y/n! Prongs wanted us to extend his apologies again for the breakfast thing. He's really sorry, you know?"

Your eyes narrowed at Sirius. "Sorry? James is sorry for tossing away the breakfast I brought for him without a second thought?"

"Yeah, he's been beating himself up about it. Really wants to make it right," Remus chimed in, attempting to sound convincing.

Your frustration reached its peak. "Is he? It's easy to be sorry now, isn't it? But where was his remorse when he threw the waffles in the bin like it was nothing? Tell James I don't need his apologies.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance. Remus spoke softly, "Y/n, we understand how you feel, but Prongs is really trying to make amends. It might help if you could give him a chance to apologize properly."

"Yeah," Sirius added, his tone earnest, "We all miss hanging out together, and Prongs, he genuinely wants to make things right. Look, we’re all hanging in the commons just after classes are done.”

You hesitated, torn between your anger and their earnest plea. After a moment of contemplation, you sighed. "Fine, I'll be there. But not because of James. I'm doing this because both of you are my friends. And I’ve missed hanging."

As you walked away, Sirius and Remus exchanged relieved smiles, hoping that this hangout might just make them win the bet.

…

i - reconciliation

You sat in one corner of the Gryffindor common room, a book in hand, although your mind was elsewhere. Sirius and Remus hovered nearby, trying to create a relaxed atmosphere, but the tension lingered like a thick fog in the room.

When James entered, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes fleetingly met yours before darting away, a visible unease surrounding him.

"Hey, Y/n!" Sirius exclaimed cheerfully, attempting to break the heavy atmosphere. "We’ve been thinking of names for Moony’s new owl!"

"Yeah .. definitely that," Remus added, striving to mask the tension in his voice.

James cautiously approached, his gaze finally meeting yours. "Y/n, can we talk?" His voice was quiet, carrying an earnest plea.

You hesitated momentarily, then nodded, reluctantly setting aside your book and following James to a quieter corner of the room.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," James began, his voice laced with genuine regret. "I was thoughtless and I hurt you. I don't expect forgiveness, but I want you to know I'm really sorry."

As James spoke, his eyes held a raw sincerity that tugged at your heartstrings. The hurt remained, but you found yourself softening, unable to resist the depth of emotion in his gaze. Your own feelings for him, buried deep within, began to stir, making forgiveness a more feasible option.

"You did hurt me, James," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But..." You hesitated, your resolve faltering as emotions swirled within you. His eyes, filled with remorse, seemed to tug your emotions. "I appreciate the apology. And I... I forgive you."

Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus tried to lighten the mood by engaging everyone in different activities. Yet, in the corner where you and James stood, the emotions were palpable, the unspoken tension slowly dissolving with your admission.

Conversations flowed more easily throughout the evening, punctuated by shared smiles and lingering gazes between you and James.

Beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding seemed to grow between you and James, sparking a flicker of hope for reconciliation.

Remus and Sirius settled into a quiet couple, minding their own business. You took the moment to excuse yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness. You’ve never been in the situation without being so all up in James’ business. James watched you leave, a mix of relief and gratitude evident in his eyes.

…

ii - jealousy

“What do you guys think of Cassius Flintwood?” James broke the silence at his table. His friends looked up from their work, giving James a puzzled expression.

“Nothing. Other than he’s probably the saving grace of Ravenclaw’s abomination quidditch team.” Sirius shrugged.

“Yeah, that. And he tutors Marlene, oh and Y/n— wait, are you asking cause you’re seeing him tutoring Y/n?”

Sirius gasps, immediately turning around to see where James’ eyes are making intense eye contact to. “Prongs, you’re jealous. Christ, this is perfect! Might as well just go get drinks right now, cause we’ve won!”

James rolls his eyes, head making contact with the wooden table as he lays his head down. “Shut up, Pads. I’m not jealous, jus’ asking.”

“Mhm. Definitely.” Remus chuckles.

“I’m so confused with everything. I apologized to her, we’re good. Why’s she .. I dunno, distancing herself still?”

“You dimwit.” Sirius says with a hint of shock, his hand slapping the top of James’ head. “You have a big ego James Potter. D’you honestly think she’d just go back to obsessing over you?”

James lifts his head up and rolls his eyes “No, that’s not what I meant. Just—“

“Look, mate,” Remus interferes, “If you’re that bothered by her and Cassius just go over there and study with them. Sure he won’t mind.”

“What? I can’t do that.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, “So you’re admitting that it does bother you?”

“No! She’s just having a tutoring session.” A tutoring session that involves Cassius touching her arm and making her laugh. She’s probably not learning anything right now. James’ annoying head thinks.

“Then stop looking at them.” Sirius warns.

“Y’know what, I’m tired. Might just fit a nap in before my late classes.” He begins to stand and collect his things. Just before putting everything inside his satchel, an idea pops into mind.

James glances at the thick Potions book beside him along with other books stacked below it. He lays his hand flat on the wooden surface and gives it a small shove, making the stack of books clattering on the floor and making a loud echo throughout the library.

Sirius just scoffs at his friends’ action, meanwhile a smile plays at Remus’ lips, clearly understanding the dumb little trick that James has just performed.

In a second, your eyes landed on James for almost the tenth time. When you see him finally collecting all the books from the floor, you make eye contact. His face is red, a hint of embarrassment showing on his cheeks. A small smile twitches on your lips, trying not to let it show to James.

James kept a steady hand in the table and lifted himself up, quickly putting his books inside his satchel and making haste of his exit from the library.

“Think we’ve got this bet in the bag, Pads.” Remus says.

…

iii - realisation

The Quidditch pitch resonated with the energy of practice, but James's mind was elsewhere as he maneuvered through the air on his broom. Sirius watched from the sidelines, unable to ignore James's distracted flying.

"Oi, Prongs, you’re flying like you’ve got a Bludger lodged in your head. What’s going on?” Sirius remarked, concern etched into his tone.

James landed his broom, "Just not in the zone today, I guess," he muttered, trying to downplay his disarray.

Sirius crossed his arms, gaze unwavering. "It's about Y/n, isn't it?"

James faltered, caught off guard by Sirius' directness. "Maybe," he admitted, a tinge of regret lacing his words.

Sirius arched an eyebrow, probing gently. "You miss her, don't you?"

James sighed, the weight of his unresolved feelings palpable. "It's more than that, Sirius. I've been a complete prat to her all these years," he confessed, his voice tinged with remorse.

Sirius's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You mean treating her like a pest?"

James nodded, guilt weighing heavily on him. "Exactly. I never gave her a chance and, Christ, I feel awful for it. She's been nothing but a good friend, maybe a tad obsessive but .. I've been too blind to see it."

“It’s fine, mate. Least you’ve figured it out now. Who knew the waffle incident would’ve caused this, huh?”

"I dunno though,” James admitted, a mix of regret and uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "It's like realizing something you should have known all along."

Sirius gave his friend a coy smile, "Give yourself time, mate. Just remember, she's not going anywhere. Maybe it's a good thing to figure it out now, yeah?"

James nodded, a mix of emotions swirling within him. With Sirius's encouragement, James readied himself to get back on his broom.

…

iv - confession

The first thing James saw when he entered the common room was you. Sat there in your too big sweater and a book huddled in your lap. His heart beats nervously as he walks closer to try and calm himself down.

“Y/n!" James greeted, trying to hide the hint of nerves in his voice.

You glanced up from your book, smiling warmly at his approach. "Hey.”

Taking a seat beside you, James fiddled with the sleeve of his robe, trying to find the right words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Reflecting, you know?" he started, eyes darting to meet yours.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about where this was going. "Reflecting about what?"

James let out a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, you see, I've had this knack for making a right mess of things. Especially when it comes to... certain people."

Your lips curved into a small smile, sensing the playful tone in his words. "Certain people?”

"Right, so I've been a bit dim, maybe blind even. Overlooked something that's been there all along."

"James Potter, are you about to confess your undying love for someone?"

James laughed, a touch of color rising to his cheeks. That laugh that you could get high on no matter the situation. Well, it's not quite as dramatic as that, but..." James took a breath, looking straight into your eyes. "Maybe I've been a bit of a fool. Y/n, you uh … , are more than just a friend to me. You're, uh, rather important."

Your smile widened, realizing the sincerity behind his playful demeanor. "Oh really? Important, am I?" You teased lightly.

He nodded, his smile widening. "Yeah, you are. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I rather like having you around, you know?"

Your smile softened, this was the moment you’ve dreamt for probably millions of times. Truthfully it wasn’t as dramatic as you’d expect. But having to see James in his awkwardness, words falling clumsily from his mouth and making eye contact with you, it was a moment you’d dream of. That was how much you were in love with the boy.

"As long as you mean it, Potter."

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

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fourmoony · 7 months

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.5k.

Summary: James brings home a baby. A baby that is not kidnapped.

part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - masterlist

...

James is standing in the doorway with a baby in his arms.

You’re so grateful he’s even there, that he’s made it back alive – albeit a little bloody and battered, glasses askew and his face covered in dirt – but alive nonetheless, that you don’t even notice the baby, bundled in a warm, fluffy blanket, wrapped safely in his arms. He’s bouncing his arms gently, probably trying to soothe the baby who’s making soft noises, and it’s really a sight to behold. It’s not until he steps through the doorway and gives you a nervous, lopsided smile that you fully register your boyfriend is holding a baby.

You blink. Once, twice. A third time.

James grows progressively more antsy. He chews his busted lip, winces, and then shifts back and forth on his feet. You have no idea where he could even have procured a baby. He’s been on an order mission for the past four days, scouting possible allies with the vampires whilst simultaneously moving important potions ingredients from one safe house to another, making sure the Death Eaters are always two steps behind order movements. Realistically, there’s been zero opportunity for James to come across a baby that he could just – take home.

“You’re home,” You breathe, because truly, that’s the most important part of the whole ordeal. James is here. He’s safe. He’s alive. Another mission down, and James has returned home. So, you’re glad. Grateful, unbelievably so. But also confused. Deeply confused.

“You have questions,” James is arguably calm about the situation, like he’d expected you to be eyeing him with hesitation – he was right – and he’s already rehearsed this in his head. “That’s normal.”

“Normal,” You repeat, the word tasting foreign on your tongue because nothing about this is normal. “Jamie, you’re holding a baby. Tell me we’re just like, babysitting, or something and you haven’t kidnapped someone’s child!”

James winces at your – albeit, quiet – yelling. The baby whimpers in his arms and immediately James shushes it, bouncing slightly on the spot with a desperate look in his eyes. He’s out of his depth, it’s obvious by the panicked way he’s looking between you and the baby, something pleading in his eyes.

“I didn’t kidnap her,” James argues childishly.

Okay, so, the baby is a girl. And James didn’t kidnap her. You turn and walk towards the kitchen, James follows, hot on your heels. The kitchen is a bit of a mess. There are your dishes from dinner, the bin is full, and there’s a couple of empty cartons for the recycling dotted on the counter closest to the back garden door. But James doesn’t flinch, he surveys his surroundings, but ultimately ignores the mess you’ve allowed to take over the small space in the days he’s been away.

“We were flying over Surrey when Marls spotted the dark mark over a muggle area,” James launches into explanation while you busy yourself with leaning over the sink and running the warm water. “We stopped to assess damage, but the Aurors were already there. Her family was killed, baby. The muggle government won’t touch the scene with a ten-foot pole – not that the baby had any other family, anyway, Alice already checked – and the Ministry won’t do anything except send her to an orphanage.”

The suds around your hands suddenly feel too much. The soup crusted around the side of your dinner bowl won’t come off and you scrub aggressively at it, focussing on that instead of the fact that your boyfriend has essentially just told you he’s informally adopted a child at random, without discussing it with you first.

Well, you know there was no time for him to discuss it. You can’t be mad at him for that. And, really, you can’t be angry at him, either, for bringing her to your home. She’s safe here. She’s already suffered an incredible amount of trauma, and she barely looks more than three months old. Your heart softens with your resolve, and you lift your head to look out of the window above the sink. The cottage you and James live in was a gift from his parents – a gift that had made you incredibly overwhelmed until you found out it had been under their ownership since before James was born, anyway – and has enough room for a swing set and a slide, maybe a trampoline. There’s a spare room, upstairs. Sirius will grumble about giving up his room for when he visits, but you’re sure he’ll get over it with some encouragement from Remus. The cottage is pretty much baby proof for James and Sirius’ sake, anyway. You have enough expendable income to completely kit out an emergency nursery necessary.

The argument isn’t really that you can’t afford to have a baby, or that you don’t have space for a baby. It’s that you’re nineteen, a year out of Hogwarts and in the middle of a war. Things are bad, times are scary, James is gone at least a week out of every month, you spend most of your days confined to the inside of a potions lab with Lily, making key potions that the Order need to work efficiently. You’re still kids yourselves, fighting a war that is taking everything from you.

But the way James is holding her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, rocking her, and cooing at her, you melt when you turn to face them, and it just feels – right, you suppose.

James looks up, smiles tentatively. You’ve always known he’ll be a great dad. He’s so full of light and love. When he loves, he loves with his entire heart. He loves dotingly and loyally. He’s so sure, standing there. Even though you can tell he’s trying to respect you, waiting to show his excitement until he knows how you feel, you can also see how much love he already has for this little girl, how sure he is that here, with him and with you, is the best place for her.

You take a step towards him, around the kitchen island, and hold your arms out wordlessly. He places her in your arms so gently and then watches as your eyes meet hers. They’re big and round and so blue you feel the breath hitch in your throat. She’s gorgeous. Big puffy cheeks and tufts of dark hair on her small little head. Her tiny lips are curved into a tired pout. You can’t help the smile that overcomes you. When your eyes lift – reluctantly – James is staring at you both. There’s something sickly sweet about the look in his eyes, warm like coffee, sweet like honey.

“We’re at war, Jamie,” You tell him, “Having a baby is a bad idea.”

James nods, “I know.”

A beat of silence passes. An understanding, maybe. It’s a bad time to be two nineteen-year-olds having a baby. But it’s there, in the way James looks at you. He’s never been one to have perfect timing. He asked you to be his girlfriend in the middle of an argument. He asked you to move in with him after school when the first Daily Prophet announcement about the war being confirmed happened. He’s brought a baby home out of nowhere, in the middle of said war. But it feels right. Holding her in your arms, James standing so close you can feel his warmth.

“What’s her name?” You ask, smiling sweetly at James.

He beams. He just – he beams. You know that he knows, then. You’re in. For better or worse.

“No idea. Alice had the muggle police contact the muggle social workers, who had no idea of anything about her. Bit of a mystery, really. But we get to keep her. Keep her safe, love her, raise her. So, I think it worked out. Is that bad?" James whips his head up, like his words surprised himself.

You chuckle lightly, "A little."

"What do you think we should name her?" You ask, eyes flitting back down to her. She's fallen over into sleep, blue irises gone from the world and you feel a tinge of sadness. You miss the bright blue of them, already. She's huffing softly, lips parted cutely. There's something magical about the way she's captured your heart in ten minutes flat. She might have magical powers, after all.

"Not sure. We can think on it. Our meeting with the ministry to officially adopt isn't until Monday." James speaks softly, in awe of the sight of you both.

You nod, "We better ring for Sirius and Remus, send them off for a cot, and then coax them into helping us build it."

You hand her over to James, he takes her, and then make for the phone. James stops you when he speaks, voice an amused whisper, lips pressed to her head, "They're already on their way."

"You knew I'd say yes."

"I knew you'd say yes. How could you not? Look at her." James is all honey voiced as he coos and holds the baby up for you to see and you melt.

She's the cutest thing you've ever seen. You're in awe. She's got your heart, well and truly. It's a strange feeling, to have such adoration for a human so small, who you've only just met. But you know you'll lay your life down to protect her. You'd do anything to make sure she's safe. She promises love, in the darkest time. You can already see the difference in James since returning home. He's lighter, full of smiles, gentle, happy. Usually, after missions, James is dark and brooding. He's filled with a darkness that only being a soldier can bring about.

James is looking at her so lovingly it makes you want to cry. She's happiness, and love. She's-

"Hope." You say, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

James looks up, brows furrowed, a question.

"Hope Potter." You affirm, tears in your eyes.

Your heart fills when James leans forward, presses a kiss to your lips, careful not to jostle Hope, "I love it. I love you."

"I love you. Both."

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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

Note

anything with soft dom remus or beefy!james with a shy gf just makes my brain go ahhhhh and idk why

Omg omg!!! Going w beefy!jamie for this! Ft: sleepy shy!reader and college rugby!jamie

Staying up late to help your boyfriend study game analytics seems like a good idea three hours ago when your eyes weren’t burning.

It was the best idea, when you’d been bright eyed and had just had your third cup of coffee for the afternoon.

Now, your eyes are bleary and you can’t stop fighting back yawns and you don’t think you can hear the words, ‘formation’, ‘back line’ or ‘forward press’ anymore.

James doesn’t seem to notice, too busy scribbling on the pages in front of him and adjusting the images on his tablet.

Some of his other teammates are on a call with him so they’re all adding their thoughts, but now you just really want your bed.

“Jamie?” You murmur, not having the brain power for much more than whispered words.

“Yeah angel?” His tongue is poking out the corner of his lip as he readjusts something on the screen before looking at you.

James finds your glasses slightly askew on your face, your eyes a little on the bloodshot side, and your pyjamas (his old sweater and a pair of shorts) all wrinkled from you leaning the the table.

You look just about ready to pass out on yourself.

“Oh angel,” he coos, scooting back in his chair and patting his thigh. “Ve’been keeping you up, haven’t I?”

You stand slowly, peeking over the top of his tablet to check that his camera was off before climbing into his lap.

You hadn’t bothered to check that his mic was off and are met with coos coming from the speakers. “Potter are you not taking care of our good luck charm?” Sirius teases as you cuddle into James’ chest.

James presses a kiss to your neck as you shuffle until you find the best spot.

“He’s taking care of me just fine, Siri. Are you taking care of Remus?” You ask, a teasing tone to your voice but James knows anxiety is riddling your tease.

You might be a little more open with him and his friends, but you’re still a very delicate, shy thing at the end of the day.

“Yeah. How are you treating your boyfriend?” James pipes and you’re grateful to have Sirius’ attention diverted as another series of yawns wrack your body.

“Ten more minutes, angel. Then we’ll get all cozy in bed, yeah?” You nod, eyes closing as you listen to the rhythmic ‘lub dub’ of James’ heart.

You’re almost asleep when James coos, “Poor girl,” you feel him take off your specs and open your eyes. “We’re going to bed m’heart.”

James is sure you’re blushing, even in your sleepy state.

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter drabble #james potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter x black!reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter headcanon #beefy!james potter #beefy!james #rugby!james

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greygaunt · 2 months

Text

How the Slytherin boys would react to you pulling them in by their belt or tie

as requested!

Theodore Nott

Theodore had been given special permission from Professor Snape to tutor you using the potions classroom. He was stood in front of you, desperately trying to get you to understand the Wiggenweld potion instructions, as the last three times you had attempted it, your cauldron had boiled over. You sat at the desk, fidgeting with your quill, your attention drifting to the window where the afternoon sunlight filtered through the lake and through the glass. Theodore's words seemed to blur together as you found yourself lost in your own thoughts, oblivious to his attempts to guide you through the recipe. Theodore noticed your lack of focus, a faint furrow forming between his brows as he paused mid-sentence, studying you with a mix of concern and amusement. "Are you with me, cara mia?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm, trying to bring you back to the present. You blinked, realising you had been daydreaming, and quickly tried to mask your distraction with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Theodore," you apologised. Theodore chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "It's alright," he reassured you, his tone warm and understanding. "But if you want to nail this potion, you'll need to pay closer attention." As he turned back to the cauldron to continue the recipe, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not giving him your full attention. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you rose from your seat and stealthily made your way towards Theodore, who was engrossed in stirring the potion. Quietly, you approached him from behind, your hand reaching out to hook around the loop of his belt. Before he could react, you gave a playful tug, pulling him gently towards you. Startled, Theodore stumbled slightly, his back pressing against your chest as he turned to face you, a bemused expression on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he raised an eyebrow at your antics. You shot an impish smile his way, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you met his gaze. "Just trying to get your attention," you replied playfully, your fingers pulling gently on his belt. "Seems like it worked." You leant up and captured his lips in a cheeky kiss, hands still hooked in his belt loops. Theodore pulled away and cleared his throat as he took in your current situation, your chest was pressed against his, and suddenly the potion didn’t matter anymore. Now he was the distracted one; blushing himself.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo paced back and forth, his uniform askew and his expression etched with anger. His frustration was evident as he vented about the argument he had just had with Draco. As you approached, you could feel the frustration radiating from him, his words sharp and biting as he recounted the altercation. It was clear that he needed a distraction from his thoughts, something to pull him away from the anger and irritation that consumed him. “That little bleach blonde git-“ Without a word, you stepped closer to Lorenzo, your hand reaching out to gently grasp the Slytherin tie around his neck. Startled, Lorenzo paused mid-rant, his eyes widening in surprise as he turned to face you. Before he could protest, you closed the distance between you, pulling him towards you with a gentle tug on his tie. And then, with a softness that silenced the storm raging within him, you pressed your lips against his in a tender and lingering kiss. At first, Lorenzo stiffened in surprise, his anger momentarily forgotten as he registered the warmth of your lips against his. But as the sweetness of the kiss enveloped him, he slowly began to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing as he melted into your embrace. For a minute, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you lost in the intimacy of the moment. As you pulled away, a sense of calm washed over Lorenzo, his features softening as he met your gaze with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Wow," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached up to cup your cheek. "That was unexpected." You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you returned his gaze. "I just wanted to distract you," you admitted, your voice soft with sincerity. "You seemed like you needed it." Lorenzo's lips quirked into a small smile, his anger dissipating as he leaned in to press another gentle kiss against your lips. “Why was I pissed at the ferret?”

Draco Malfoy

In the aftermath of a disappointing Quidditch match, the Slytherin common room was abuzz with the tension of defeat. Draco stood leaning against the edge of a worn leather armchair, his brooding gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, lost in his own thoughts. Despite your attempts to engage him in conversation, Draco seemed completely absorbed by his defeat, his mind a whirlwind of frustration and disappointment. You stood beside him, a sympathetic frown creasing your brow as you watched him wrestle with his emotions. Feeling a surge of determination to break through his brooding silence, you took a step closer, your hand instinctively reaching out to gently grasp the belt loop of Draco's trousers. Startled, Draco blinked in surprise, his attention finally shifting from the depths of his thoughts to your presence beside him. Before he could utter a word, you pulled him towards you with a gentle tug on his belt loop, closing the distance between you until there was barely an inch of space separating your bodies. And then, without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a tender and reassuring kiss. At first, Draco stiffened in surprise, his eyes widening in astonishment as he registered the warmth of your lips against his. But as the sweetness of the kiss enveloped him, he slowly began to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing as he melted into your embrace. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached up to brush his fingers against your cheek. "I needed that." You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you returned his gaze. "Anytime," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I'm here for you, always." Draco nudged his nose against yours, connecting your lips once more and gently resting his hands on your waist.

Mattheo Riddle

In the cosy confines of Mattheo's dorm room, the afternoon sunlight filtered through the lake and through the window, casting a green glow over the space. You and Mattheo had returned from a long day of classes, and now you found yourselves engaged in a playful bout of wrestling on his bed. Laughter filled the air as you and Mattheo rolled around, teasing and tickling each other like carefree children. The stresses of the day melted away as you revelled in the simple joy of each other's company, lost in the warmth of shared laughter and affection. As the play fighting escalated, Mattheo managed to gain the upper hand, pinning you down to the bed with a triumphant grin. You looked up at him, a playful pout on your lips as you pretended to struggle against his hold. "Alright, alright, you win," you conceded with a chuckle, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you gazed up at him. Mattheo's grin widened at your surrender, his gaze locking with yours as he leaned down, his weight pressing against you. In that moment, as you lay beneath him, you couldn't tear your eyes away from his. Without a word, you reached up and gently tugged on the tie around Mattheo's neck, pulling him closer to you. Caught off guard, Mattheo's expression softened, his eyes filled with warmth and affection as he met your gaze. And then, with a tender urgency that mirrored the beating of your heart, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a sweet and passionate kiss. The warmth of the kiss enveloped you, leaving only the two of you lost in the sweetness of the moment. Mattheo's eyes shone with adoration as he gazed down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I love you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity as you reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the contours of his jawline.

Blaise Zabini

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the Hogwarts grounds. You and Blaise walked back from the library hand in hand. Laughter filled the air around you, the echoes of shared jokes and the peace of studying together creating an atmosphere of joy. As you strolled side by side, the air felt light and carefree. Blaise, ever the playful soul, couldn't resist the opportunity to inject a bit of whimsy into the evening. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he twirled you gently, and a playful dance unfolded spontaneously between you. The two of you erupted into soft laughter as Blaise, in a mock-serious manner, took the lead, waltzing with exaggerated grace. He playfully dipped you, causing another round of laughter to escape from your lips. Your eyes crinkled with love and joy. As Blaise twirled you once more, a sparkle in his eye, you seized the opportunity to playfully tug at the tie around his neck. He grinned, understanding the unspoken invitation, and with a hint of anticipation, he leaned in as you pulled him closer. You pressed your lips against Blaise's, the kiss carrying a mixture of spontaneity and genuine affection. The world seemed to pause, and for that brief moment, there was nothing but the shared laughter, the playful dance, and the warmth of the kiss. As you pulled away, still wrapped up in the joy of the impromptu dance, Blaise grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement and affection. The two of you continued your walk, hand in hand, Blaise rubbing your knuckles with his fingers as he whispers in your ear. “I love you, so much.”

#slytherin boys react #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #slytherin #greygaunt #Spotify

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shiftermia · 2 months

Text

— Late night snacks

james potter x reader

platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

where james catches you and Peter in the kitchens

a/n: a certain someone (A) kept hounding me to write a James one so here it is out of the kindness of my heart. (I was held at gunpoint as I wrote this)

ALSO I DONT CARE! OUTSIDE OF CANON PETER IS A MARAUDER!!

Ever since becoming friends with the weird group known as the Marauders, you and Peter Pettigrew had grown close to each other.

Yes, the group of boys were close. And it was James and Sirius, and Peter and Remus, the duos within the group. The ones they went to when they had to get into groups of two.

But before you joined them, the other three boys had their own designated friend outside of the group of misfits.

James had Marlene, as they grew up in the same neighborhood. Remus had Lily as they were both smart enough to keep up with each other, and Sirius had Mary. Surprisingly, the two got along quite well.

When they weren’t hanging out with each other, they were hanging out with those girls.

But Peter didn’t have someone other than the boys. Often left to his own devices before James, the mum friend noticed the boy being left behind.

Till you started dating James, and Peter finally had a friend for himself. Someone to hang out with when the others were somewhere else.

You and him had more in common than you expected. Both not as smart as Remus in all subjects but enough to keep up. Both having to study unlike Sirius, and both having to pay attention to fully understand something unlike James.

Another thing you two had in common was your hunger in the middle of the night.

“Psst!” The boy called with his head poking out from his curtains. To no sign of movement, he called again louder, “psst!”

You pulled back James’s curtain revealing your bed head and James’ large form laying on top of you with his head tucked in your neck. “wormy, what?”

“Don’t what me, I’m hungry!” Peter said glancing at Remus’ bed, praying his werewolf ears wouldn’t catch your conversation.

You laughed and whispered loudly, “oh my Merlin! Me too!”

He laughed and pulled himself out of bed and slipped on his shoes, “I’ve been craving Moony Toast for the past hour!”

You let out a scoff and threw yourself back, a hand coming up to mess with James’s curls. “Ive been wanting some strawberries since 12, I just wish the kitchens weren’t so far!” You whined silently.

Peter waved his hand to you, already standing by the door and glancing at Remus’s bed again. “C’mon.”

You widened your eyes and gestured to the sleeping boy on top of you. “You want to help me with the big guy or what?”

He rolled your eyes at your sarcasm and lifted James’s top half enough so you could slide out from under him and gently laid him back down as to not wake him up.

“Okay, now let’s go.” You stated once you put your shoes on and grabbed your boyfriend’s jumper.

You and Peter went down the stairs in the corridor before you came to an abrupt stop. “Shite, what about the map?”

Peter just shook his head and kept walking, “I’m too hungry to find wherever Sirius put it this time.”

You shrugged and followed after him, both of you keeping an eye out for Filch and his dammed demon cat.

Meanwhile, James moved his arm presumably to lay under your his shirt but was left grasping at air.

He lifted his head and looked to his right, “poppet?” He grumbled with squinted eyes before reaching his hand out to grab his glasses.

James sat up and rubbed his eyes under his glasses and looked around the room. The bathroom door was open with the lights turned off, so you definitely weren’t in there.

His eyes landed on Peter’s bed, its curtains wide open with blankets askew.

He groaned and pulled his half naked form out from the warmth and reached down to grab one of his thrown shirts.

James got up and walked over to Sirius’ bed and reached under his bed to pull out the Marauders Map. “Where’re you now, poppet?” He spoke to himself.

“They’re in the kitchens.” Remus’ voice mumbled, head most likely stuffed in his pillow.

James sighed and grabbed his wand, muttering a small lumos, “and may I ask how you know that moony boy?”

“Both the bloody wankers can’t keep quiet, now please let me sleep in fucking peace.” He roughly sighed out and the sound of him yanking the covers was heard along with James’ mocking sound of surprise.

“What do y’know, Remus is right again.” He put on his shoes and quietly left the dorm to the kitchens where yours and Peter’s name moved around.

After, nearly dropping his wand and getting caught by the notorious demon cat. James tickled the pear portrait and was greeted with dim yellow lighting, Peter leaning against a counter and you kicking your feet from atop a stool.

You and Peter instantly both went quiet and let out a breath when you noticed it was James.

“Jamie! You scared the hell out of us!” You spoke before placing another chocolate covered strawberry in your mouth.

He raised his brow and lifted a muscular arm, “I scared you? You scared me!” He exclaimed before seeing Peter’s form slowly sticking something in his mouth.

“The bloody hell are you eating?” He asked Peter.

Peter swallowed and sat up a little bit, “Moony toast.”

“Moony Toast?” James questioned incredulously. “If Remus heard that he would throw a fit,” he stalked forward and leaned his arm over your smaller frame. “Think he did hear it,” he added as an after thought.

“Ugh, he heard?” Peter grunted taking a sip of whatever he had been drinking.

“I assume that’s how you found us?” You asked dipping a strawberry into the bowl of melted chocolate you had in front of you.

“Yeah, and this.” He lifted up the map and your head whipped towards Peter.

“I told you!”

His head shook, “where’d you even find it?!” He exclaimed, blonde hair falling slightly in his face.

James shrugged, “under Sirius’s bed.”

You glared at Peter and he squinted his eyes. “Whatever, not like it matters now.”

James turned to you when he felt you pressed a kiss to his jaw, “why didn’t you tell me where you went, sweet girl?” He gently ran a hand over your head, brushing back baby hairs.

Peter sat up, “I swallowed a bug,” he got up and waved back to you both, “see you two later.”

Once he left, you turned to James and messed with his hair, setting it to how you thought suited him best. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He set a hand on your waist while the other was pressed against the counter. “I don’t care, next time at least let me know.”

You nodded and wiped your strawberry filled fingers on a nearby napkin. “m’kay I will, promise.”

The face you made, made James lean down slightly a press a sweet kiss to your lips.

With a hum, he moved away, nose pressed to your cheek. He licked his lips, “tastes like strawberries.”

You chuckled and traced his face, “well I was eating chocolate covered strawberries.”

James hummed again and brought his hand up to the back of your head, “Huh, I didn’t taste chocolate, lemme..” he trailed off and kissed you again making you snicker in between kisses.

You leaned back slightly and the hand that was holding your head slipped to your waist. Even when distracted, James always made sure you would be safe.

“We should go,” you whispered, James hummed in agreement but didn’t make any move to stop kissing your sweet sweet lips anytime soon.

With you in his shirt and jumper enveloping your frame, messy hair and bright content eyes, and your hands cupping his face so so gently, in the way only you can achieve.

How could he ever be expected to stop?

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #70s #the marauders #james potter #james potter blurb #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter x oc #peter pettigrew #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin

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faith-forgxtten-land · 3 months

Note

Hi! Do you think you can write something for Donatello? Maybe the reader wakes up and he's in bed for once and its very soft

Serenity | Donatello

hi! of course i can! you didn't specify what version of donnie you wanted so i went with bayverse because i'm kind of on a roll with that iteration atm so... also there is a severe lack of bayverse donnie gifs

warnings: nothing really. suggestive? subtle morse code that isn't explicitly mentioned... which isn't a warning unless you consider morse code scandalous? everyone is 18+!!! also there's like no proofreading so reading is always at your own risk but if you ever notice any, please do point out any spelling/grammar etc. errors!

summary: you wake up before donnie who's actually in bed (it's a miracle)

word count: 859

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first thing you hear is the distant whirring of technology. You don’t bother to open your eyes as you shift your hips ever so slightly to seek a more comfortable position now that you’re slowly gaining consciousness. Pausing your lethargic movements, you become keenly aware of the heavy and solid weight curled around you that most definitely hadn’t been there when you first fell asleep. You breathe in deep. A musty scent of oil and sweat and something you’re sure isn’t pleasant hits you. It’s so him that you don’t even wrinkle your nose. Instead, you reach out a hand and find his skin.

You can feel him breathing like this. It’s slow and steady and your heart feels like bursting. You press closer and your lips smile against the swell of his arm. A few soft kisses won’t wake him, you decide, pressing them gently over his scales. He doesn’t stir as you link your fingers with his. His arm is heavy with muscle, but you manage to lift the dead weight to your mouth, breathing the softest of kisses all over the flesh. It’s so different and so much bigger than your own but your hands fit together perfectly. You open your eyes, only a little blearily, and you imagine the silliest heart emojis that replace them as you stare in quiet reverence.

He’s so perfect it hurts. He’s snoring quietly, more of a whistle really, and his mouth is open with his glasses askew. He looks so cosy and dorky and unbelievably Donnie that you have to stifle a lovesick giggle. He looks both serene and tired at the same time and you can’t believe he actually came to bed of his own volition. Getting him to bed is a Herculean effort at the best of times, for him to sleep – in an actual bed – without your nagging insistence and underhand tricks is nothing short of a miracle. He’s still wearing his suspenders too and you think, a little wryly, that perhaps he was more tired than even he realised.

Your hand cups his face and you rub your thumb over his jaw, in awe at the man beneath your palm and feeling a little silly over how emotional you're being. His face twitches and you pause your ministrations, holding your breath. You don’t want to wake him; he must’ve been exhausted and you’re not sure how long he’s been asleep beside you. He continues to sleep, and you breathe again, this time pressing your lips to his neck.

I love you, you mouth against his skin. I love you so much. He must feel it, whether he feels you physically or as deep in his being as you feel him, because he churrs softly and it makes your eyes burn. God, you’re so in love. You’ve been in love with him for so long you can’t remember what it felt like before he came into your life. You’re not really sure what’s coming over you this morning (is it morning? It’s not like you can see the sunrise like this) but as your lips tremble you find that you don’t mind. Donnie deserves to be loved like this, wholly and reverently, and you vow, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, to love him like this forever.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that. The position isn’t the most comfortable and you can feel the pain in your neck that runs along your spine, but you can’t bring yourself to move. You want this moment to last as long as it possibly can and you’re thankful that the Lair is peaceful for once. There are no noises to indicate any of the others are up and you hope it stays that way, just for a while longer.

Your wish is almost immediately denied as you hear a crash and brazen laughter that can only belong to Mikey (followed, of course, by an annoyed bellow that can only belong to Raph) and you can’t help the quiet snort even as the turtle beside you is disturbed from his slumber.

Donnie shifts and his snout is buried in your neck as he inhales, and you’re only given a few seconds to mourn the loss of his sleeping state (he really needs to sleep more) before he kisses your fluttering pulse, and you sigh in pleasure. His hand – the one you’re not keeping hostage still – grips your bare thigh and you push yourself closer as his teeth graze the sensitive skin along the column of your throat. He doesn’t speak, choosing instead to tap a message along your skin as his hands caress upwards. I love you too.

You smile so wide it hurts your jaw. “You’re such a nerd,” you whisper, your voice thick and huskier than usual. He just brings his teeth together again, leaving little teasing bites, and taps your inner thigh once more. You shudder slightly and acquiesce his request, spreading your legs further for him and letting him rub higher and higher.

The two of you stay in bed until the afternoon.

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt imagine #bayverse donatello #bayverse donnie #tmnt x reader #idk how to feel about this one

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bianquitasworld · 7 months

Note

could you do one where dave and reader are watching movies and being all cuddly pretty please?

Rest and Shakespeare

Parings: Dave Lizewski x Reader

A/N: I need this man, sorry for not writing as much I’ve been caught up with studies and work. Sorry I kinda forgot to add the movie part I was so tired when I wrote this. 😥

The day had been a relentless struggle, from the demanding classes at school to the never-ending tasks at work. A grueling exam had left my mind in tatters, the pounding headache and the stress of deadlines had drained every ounce of energy from me. But all I could think about as I made my way towards Dave’s house was the comforting warmth waiting for me in Dave’s arms, being in his presence alone always helped melt all my worries away.

The cold air made a shiver run down my spine, I hug myself to find warmth. I couldn’t help but walk faster as I made my way towards his home, minutes away from being in Dave’s arms and in the comfort of his bedroom while he read some random comic to me that I knew nothing about, the way his eyes would light up when he got excited flipping through the colorful pages, I smile at the thought alone, the way he always held me as I slept, I felt the stress leaving my body already just picturing it.

I sighed in relief as I reached Dave’s home. I barely knocked, I saw the white curtains from his room move around as if someone was just standing there moments ago. I heard hurried footsteps rushing down the stairs. The door was pulled open immediately. Dave greeted me with a wide smile, his cheeks flushed with excitement. His glasses sat slightly askew on the tip of his nose, and he pushed them up with his index finger, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

His clears his throat before speaking and leans against the front door.

“S-Sorry I made you wait for so long, I was doing homework?” His statement sounded more like a question as if he couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Your homework consists of you watching me through your window?” I tease him, you notice his cheeks turning bright red. I couldn’t decide if it was from the cold air being let in to his house due to the open door or the embarrassment. I shiver from the cold air. “it’s freezing-“ I could hardly finish my sentence before he’s reaching for my hand, pulling me into his home, and shutting his door. I slip off my winter boots.

“My dad isn’t home, we can watch a movie-or or whatever-psh I mean movies are lame-unless you want to watch one then we can-“ Dave’s nervous rambling is a little funny, even if we’ve been together for a while he’s still always nervous and second guessing every word that comes out of his mouth. Especially when he��s around ‘the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes upon’.

“Dave we can do whatever you want as long as I get to spend time with you i’m happy.” I say softly, tiredness kicking in. truthfully, I just wanted to curl into a cave and hibernate till the next year.

A blush returns to his face and his eyes light up in excitement. “We can go read some-some comics if you’re cool with that because if you aren’t that’s like totally cool.” I hear Dave gulp as he stares at me, his eyes falling upon me.

“Sure, that’s ‘like totally cool’ with me Dave” I say mocking him, if it’s possible his face becomes two shades redder. “Okay-okay no need to get rude” He rolls his eyes. I hurriedly make my way upstairs with Dave’s heavy footsteps following behind, after entering his room I take off the thick winter coat I had on, I can’t help but jump on his bed and crawl under his sheets making a mess of his bed, no care in the world for manners.

Dave plops down beside me with a comic in his hand, he sits up and pulls me against his chest as I wrap my arms around him and throw my leg over his torso.

“You tired baby?” Dave’s voice is soft and caring as he notices the lack of noise coming from his partner. “Exhausted, too many responsibilities and deadlines..” a sigh follows, I feel Dave’s hand slowly caress my head soothingly, he puts his comic on his night stand and lays down fully, allowing himself to be the little spoon. “You’re too pretty to be stressed, allow me to help you relax my princess.” Dave says in a British accent “You’re such a nerd babe, i’m taking those comics and weird movies away from you.”

All that can he heard is an overly dramatic gasp, what a drama queen. “Thou shall not-MHm” I shh him by placing my hand over his mouth. “shh..sleep.”

Dave gives in and smiles against my hand, he slowly pushes it down and mutters “fine, fine, whatever..I was just trying to romance you.”

“Romance me? By talking like Shakespeare?”

“Some people find it charming-“

“Name one person-“

“Okay you know what go to sleep, shhh-“

“No, who finds that cha-”

“Shhhhh you’ve fallen into a deep sleep shhh-“

“Dave I swear-“

“Oh can’t hear you, you’re not talking because you’re in a deep deep slumber-“

“Slumber?? Who even says that?”

“I thought you were tired!?”

“I am!”

“then stop talking”

“You keep talking to me! You know what good night.”

#aaron taylor johnson x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski one shot #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x reader #kick ass x reader #kick ass 2 #kick ass #atj x reader

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munson-blurbs · 5 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 6 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, lots of fluff, Harris and Wayne making us all cry

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

June 1999

“Harris! Lunchtime!” you call out from the kitchen, balancing three plates in your hands, crunchy peanut butter and grape jelly slathered between WonderBread slices atop each one. A gourmet meal, Grandma would have teased, but she wouldn’t deny the simple deliciousness of a PB&J sandwich.

Eddie saunters in first, taking two of the plates from you and placing them on the dining room table. “Need me to grab anything else?” he asks, watching as you suck peanut butter residue off your thumb. “Like, maybe your boobs?” He grins, crossing his arms over his chest against a faded Corroded Coffin t-shirt.

You playfully roll your eyes, setting the last plate at your spot. “Could you slice up an apple for Harris? I’ll pour us some lemonade and then get his gift from our room.”

“Puttin’ me to work on Father’s Day weekend,” he grumbles, but the smirk curling his plush lips betrays him. He grabs a Red Delicious from the refrigerator and cuts it into eighths, careful not to nick his ringed fingers.

You pluck the gift bag from its hiding spot underneath your bed, re-fluffing the yellow tissue paper as though Harris will notice that it’s askew.

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the apple’s juices on his fingers and calls for your son once more. “Harris! If you don’t get your behind in here now, you won’t get your surprise!”

The TV clicks off instantly. “My surprise?” He races into the kitchen, stopping short and skidding in his socks to avoid colliding with the counter’s edge. “Where’s my surprise?”

“You can open it while you eat lunch,” you reason, swinging the bag between your pinched thumb and forefinger. Harris plops in his seat, takes an enormous bite of his sandwich, and holds out his hand for the present. You relent with a laugh, nerves buzzing as he tears into it.

Harris is momentarily confused when he pulls out a book, studying the cover intently. “The Berenstain Bears New Baby?” he asks quizzically, looking between you and Eddie for a clue.

“Why do you think we’d buy you a book about a new baby?” Eddie teases, trying to lead him to the answer.

You both watch as the proverbial gears turn in the boy’s head, his eyes widening when it clicks. “Am I getting a baby?” A squeal builds up in his throat, the excitement palpable.

“Mhm. In about five months, you, Harris Munson,” you tell him, poking his chest with your pointer finger, “are going to be a big brother.”

“Mommy’s growing the baby in her belly right now,” Eddie elaborates, beaming as the words resonate with him once again.

Harris leaps from his chair, bumping into the table and nearly toppling his glass of lemonade in the process, but he hardly notices. “We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby!” He cheers, waving the book high in the air. A slip of paper falls out, floating down to his feet.

“That’s my latest ultrasound. It shows what the baby looks like and how he or she is growing,” you explain as he picks it up from the floor.

He squints at it to make heads or tails of the grainy photos. “When do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“At my next appointment in about five weeks.”

He hums in acknowledgment, still focused on the sonogram. “It kinda just looks like a blob,” he says cautiously, as though breaking the news that the fetus in your womb is a gelatinous creature.

Eddie chuckles, kissing Harris’s wild curls. “Yeah, but it’ll look more like a baby soon, I promise.”

Harris exhales a relieved sigh, launching himself into your arms with a barrage of questions.

“What are we gonna name it?”

“Is it gonna sleep in my room?”

“Do I have to change its diapers?”

“Are you sure it’s gonna look like a baby?”

It’s your turn to laugh and ruffle his hair. “Slow down there, Har. We can talk about all of that stuff later. Right now,” you lower your voice but keep all of the exuberance, “we need you to do us a super special favor.”

“A super special favor?” His face lights up and he leans in to ensure he hears you correctly.

“Yup. Grampa Wayne still doesn’t know about the baby, and we were hoping you could make a Father’s Day card that helps us tell him.” You watch as he unlatches himself from around you and scampers off to find his art kit. “That was easy enough,” you say to your husband, who affirms this with a smile-laced kiss.

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “To be honest, I was expecting him to be even—”

“I’M GONNA BE A BIG BROTHER!” Harris’s ecstatic shriek interrupts him, compounded with the pounding of his feet as he jumps up and down.

“There it is.”

You all pile into the car the following afternoon to celebrate Father’s Day at Wayne’s trailer. Harris buckles himself into his booster seat, the homemade card clutched securely in his hand. Eddie rolls down the window, turning the crank until it’s halfway cracked, letting the warm June breeze tickle his face.

From the backseat, Harris whines, “Dad, be careful! I don’t want Grampa’s card to fly out the window.”

“Don’t worry; we’re not going fast. Just taking the backroads.”

He seems to be content with this promise, but you notice his grip tighten just a bit.

Wayne waits for your arrival, stubbing out his cigarette on the trailer steps as soon as he sees you pull in. His naturally stoic expression dissipates into a wide grin and he pushes himself to his feet, tugging on Harris’s door handle as soon as Eddie throws the car in park.

“Happy Father’s Day, Grampa!” Harris shouts, flinging his arms around him. Wayne reciprocates eagerly, holding his grandson in a loving embrace. “Look at your card!”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head in amusement as he stretches his legs out of the car. “Real subtle, Har.”

Wayne takes the piece of construction paper from Harris, retrieving his reading glasses from where they’re hanging out of his breast pocket and sliding them up the bridge of his nose. “Let me see here,” he muses, scanning the drawing in front of him. “A family portrait, huh? This is gonna go right on the fridge.” He starts back towards the front door, but Harris stops him.

“No, Grampa, look!” Harris impatiently points to where he’s drawn your prominently rounded abdomen, much more obvious than your actual burgeoning bump. “That’s Mommy.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise, glancing between you and Eddie for confirmation before he says anything further.

“You’re gonna be a grandpa again, Old Man,” Eddie tells him, resting his hand on your stomach and rubbing it gently. “There’ll be another little mischief maker joining us in November.”

“You’re serious?” Wayne’s eyes mist over, visible even behind the lenses. When you nod, rife with emotion, he ambles over for a hug. “Oh, my word. Nearly got me blubberin’ over here.” He pulls back only to rest his glasses atop his head, wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve.

Harris tugs on his grandfather’s free hand. “Dad said you’re gonna change all the poopy diapers.” He giggles, exposing the gap where a tooth is newly missing after weeks of being wiggly.

“Is that so?” Wayne chuckles, looking directly at Eddie before bringing his attention back to Harris. “Well, I’ll tell ya what: I’ll change the baby’s diapers if Dad changes mine once I’m real old.”

Eddie tries to protest, but you cut him off. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

“Nope, no way” your husband argues, waving his arms in disgust, “I’m throwing you in a home the moment you can’t wipe your own–”

“Eddie!” you admonish before he can utter another word.

“I was gonna say ‘tush.’”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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raspberriesoda · 15 days

Text

w.c 0.8k | fluff fluff | reader is described as smaller than hyuck

[ 11:57pm ] the dull slam of the front door makes you stir a bit, but not enough to wake you fully. you groan a bit, shuffling in the chair you’re sat in, and drift off once again.

haechan lets out a heavy sigh as he shuffles into his apartment. shoes kicked off haphazardly by the door, haechan slugs through the living room and flops down on the couch with a grunt, huffing out a yawn from the long, exhausting day he’s had. he takes his glasses off and tosses them to the side, running his hands through his hair and down his face to wipe the impending sleep away.

as he reaches for the half full plastic water bottle on the coffee table, his eyes find your bag leaned up against one of the wooden legs, your shoes sat neatly next to it. his brow furrows; maybe he missed a text, but he hadn’t expected you to be here. even so, he immediately stands to search for you.

haechan walks past his gaming room as he makes his way down the hall, assuming you’re asleep in his bed, but he does a double take when he notices the faint purple glow bleeding through the small crack in the doorway. he peeks in, and immediately he melts, a goofy smile spreading across his face.

there you are, fallen asleep at his computer. your face is nestled in the crook of your elbow, your cheek pushed up cutely by the dark gray fabric of haechan’s sweatshirt you’re wearing. this shirt is big on him already so its very big on you, long enough that the sleeves completely swallow your hands and the bottom hem hides the shorts you’re wearing. a pair of fluffy pink socks adorn your dangling feet as his gaming chair is raised so high your toes don’t reach the ground.

haechan walks up, gently so the floor doesn't creak, and crouches down next to you. the monitor softly lights your sleeping face with the pause screen of the game you’d been playing, and there’s a jumbled mess of letters in the chat bar from your arm resting on the keyboard. he hears your docile breathing and the faintest sound of the calm music through the headphones askew on your head.

haechan decides in the moment that this is, quite honestly, the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

his hand comes up, pushing the mic up and back to brush his thumb along your cheek, and he can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. you hum as you wake, rubbing your face on your sleeve, and you push yourself up from the surface of the desk. you look up at him, eyelids heavy, almost closed. the combination of the lopsided headphones sitting on your head and the groggy smile that pulls at your lips at the sight of him makes haechan feel lovesick.

“mmh, hi hyuckie,” you sigh happily upon seeing your boyfriend. you grab his face with your sweater paws, squishing his cheeks, and place a warm kiss on his pouty lips.

haechan’s heart nearly explodes. “hi baby bear,” he responds, a natural warmth in his voice. he slides the headphones off and sets them aside, using his free hand to brush messy strands of hair out of your face. you lean into his soft touch, your sleepy grin pressing against his palm, and he swears he hears you purr.

he whines. your eyes peek open to look at him. “you have got to stop being so cute. i’m falling behind in this race,” he complains. your yawn is cut short by the giggle that bubbles up at his words.

“what are you doing here, cutie?” he asks, watching you rub your eyes. “i told you i would have a late night.”

“just wanted to see you.” the words come out strained due to you arching back in a stretch, reaching your arms up and wiggling your fingers in the air. they then fall onto haechan’s shoulders, your fingers tangling together at the back of his neck. his hands find your hips without even having to search.

a heavy breath falls from your lips, pulling him closer to press your chest against his. “is that okay?” you muse playfully.

haechan scoffs. “don't ever ask me that,” he scolds you, but his words hold no real weight. you know you’re always welcome here.

haechan’s hands slide down under your thighs to pull you up into his arms. you squeak at the sudden motion, wrapping yourself around him and snuggling your face into his neck.

“let's get you to bed, pretty baby,” he says as he carries you out into the hallway. you hum in agreement, pressing a trio of gentle kisses down his jaw before resting your heavy head on his shoulder, the bounce in his step and the warmth of his body lulling you back to sleep.

#kinda dont like this one but whatever its cute #needed some fluff after the shitty 48 hours ive had #haechan fluff #haechan drabble #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck drabble #lee donghyuck x reader #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream drabble #nct dream x reader #judah.doc

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gatorbites-imagines · 9 months

Note

SPIDER NOIR⁉️⁉️⁉️

So I've read that spider noir has a organic web, which means there is a hole on their wrist that shoots webs.(wristussy)

So please, if you could.

I want reader (male/gn) to find out about the organic web

Maybe they were in the couch, holding hands, and reader rubs the lil hole,teasing it while noir is just squirming and saying to reader to stop (but they didn't, infact they did it harder) and then the web shoots out (i like to think its pretty sensitive), and noir is just being a flustered mess while reader is AMAZED lol.

-🥚

Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidernoir x Male reader

Headcanons

Artfight is pretty much over, so now I actually have time to write lmao

You and Noir had been dating for a while before you learned about the spinnerettes, especially if you don’t know that Noir was spiderman in the first place, then you’d have to figure that out first.

Because it’s the 30s you two aren’t able to be as open and affectionate as you may want, which most likely spills into your home life as well.

Most people just believe you are two poor guys who share an apartment, which wasn’t too unusual. Mix that with Peter being Jewish and antisemitism always being a thing, Peter needing a roommate would be even more plausible.

But because of the world you two live in, it’s difficult even being affectionate to one another when you are alone, because there’s always the fear of being caught and hurt because of it.

Maybe at some point in your relationship you two are able to move into an apartment building owned by another member of the lgbt community, where others like yourself and Peter live, allowing some of the paranoia and anxiety to leave you two.

It just means Peter has to be extra careful as spiderman, so that he wont lead the authorities to the building or somehow have the image of your community worsened by being associated with spiderman.

But living somewhere safe means you two dare being closer than before, especially if you live in an apartment where no one can see through your windows, except for maybe Peter who can climb up there.

It would lead to you two being able to be more affectionate, kissing more, holding each other, and cuddling on the couch as you watch your clunky tv play whatever was on back then, or listen to your radio playing music.

It might even cause you two to get a little bold, holding hands inside Peters pocket in public, or hooking your pinkies when no one is looking. It wouldn’t surprise me if Peter pulled you into dark alleyways or around corners to steal some kisses either.

Because you two can easier share affections now, it isn’t unusual for you two to just cuddle up on the couch holding hands, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand, or running your fingers over his knuckles.

Its when you are messing with his hands one day that you discover it, a small barely noticeable slit on his wrist. You learn later it was only visible because peters web pouches were full, as he hadn’t been out as spiderman in about a week because of injury.

You, of course, are curious. So, you immediately touch it, rubbing your thumb across it and pulling at the edges of it a bit in interest. To your surprise Peter jolts and makes a noise you rarely hear from him.

He would be extremely flustered as he covers his face with his other hand, quietly asking you to quit doing that, but he doesn’t pull his hand back to himself or anything, so of course you keep it up.

As you rub at the spinnerettes Peter would grow louder in his noises, his entire spine straightening as a whimper leaves him. Under his hand he’s biting his lip hard enough to break skin, his face completely dark from the flush that’s spreading all the way down his neck.

At some point you press hard enough on the slit that suddenly Peter seems to have had enough, lunging at you, and pinning your hands above your head as he pins you down. His hair is ruffled, and his glasses are askew, and his still chewing his lip as he looks at you with a flustered face.

You learn that night that his spinnerettes are quite sensitive, but might be just what you need to get him worked up if you need it.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

To be alone with you 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: Long time, no see.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Spaghetti and meatballs. Simple and delicious. You assume it’s one of Clark’s specialties, the way Jonny talks about it. A plateful steams before you, the garlicky scent tugging at the appetite you hadn’t noticed before.

After the unsettling night alone, you’re starting to feel normal again. It’s comforting to have someone else there, even if it is Clark. He’s not a bad guy, he’s nice enough, it’s just that underlying imbalance that makes it awkward. Technically, he’s your boss. Even if he wasn’t, he’s much older, you’re not sure you have much in common.

“Uh, what do you want to drink?” Clark calls from the kitchen, “I see Sprite and… not much else.”

“Oh, I’ll have one, please,” you answer. You don’t drink soda often, your mom’s the one who keeps the Sprite in the fridge but it’s so hot out you could go for a crisp drink.

You wait patiently, not wanting to be rude and start before he’s sitting down. It only seems right after he went to all the trouble of cooking for you. Clark appears with two glasses. You’re surprised he didn’t just bring the cans but don’t think much of it.

He puts a glass beside your plate, then his own, a few cubes of ice in his. You notice how his hair curls with the heat, a little askew from his efforts in the kitchen. You smile and thank him for the drink.

“This looks good. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. Dad left me pizza money.”

“It’s fine. I’m a bit restless without anyone around. I’m used to this,” he shrugs as he sits down, his shoulders wider than the chair. Sometimes you forget how big he is. It’s almost absurd when he��s just an overworked suburban dad in your head.

“Dig in, please. You didn’t have to wait,” he stirs the sauce into his noodles.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you twirl your fork in the pile of pasta. You blow over the steaming sauce and lean forward, tasting it as you try not to flick sauce all over. You hum and do your best to slurp up the ends of the noodles without making a mess. “That’s pretty good.”

“Yep, got more than my good looks,” he chuckles, “I can cook too.”

You smile, taking another bite and chewing through the tension. There’s a bit of zest to the sauce. You can’t disagree with his self-appraisal. He can cook.

You take the folded paper towel next to your plate and wipe your lips before you reach for your soda. You gulp it greedily and nearly choke. You sputter as the carbonation bubbles up to your nostrils.

“You okay?” Clark asks, his cheek ticking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” you sniffle and push the paper towel to your nose. You laugh at yourself and clear your throat, “I… haven’t had sprite in a while, guess I forgot how it tastes.”

“Ah, well, did you want water?” He asks.

“No, it’s fine. Not bad,” you turn the glass and look at the soda, “bit of an aftertaste.”

“I don’t really have soda,” he sits back, poking at his plate, “most water. A juice box here and there.”

“Makes sense.”

Your forks clink as you eat in silence. The air is thick as both of you search for something to talk about. Where you’re struggling to find some commonality, there’s a twitchiness to him that suggests he’s trying not to say everything.

“If you’re up for it, maybe we could watch a movie?” He suggests.

“A movie?” You weigh the prospect. You suppose it’s a better idea than staring at the wall. Movies are a great way to fill awkward silences. “Sure, why not. Been a while since I saw anything good. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Nah, not really. I mostly end up watching Pixar so it’s on you. I trust your judgment.”

“You shouldn’t,” you scoff, “I love Pixar.”

He smiles and gives a small chuckle, “well, just don’t be mad when I mouth along with the dialogue.”

“Kidding,” you take another sip of Sprite, trying to wash away the tomatoey tang, “promise, adult movies only.” You cringe as you realise what you said, “I mean, grown-up– er–”

Clark laughs louder, “I got it,” his cheeks bulb as the cleft in his chin deepens, “I know what you’re saying, don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” you shift in your chair, thoroughly embarrassed. You really are so smooth. It’s a good thing it’s just him, you’re sure he’s not very worried about your dumb remarks.

🏡

Despite your efforts to help, Clark insists on cleaning up. You let him as you go upstairs to take a quick shower. Sweating in the sun reading all day has left you feeling a bit musty.

You pull on a pair of striped pajama shorts and a loose tee shirt. You do a face scrub and some moisturising serum before finally emerging, feeling fresh and a bit sleepy. You can hear Clark below scuttling around.

You go downstairs and peer towards the darkened doorway of the kitchen. You pass it and stop just at the threshold of the front room. You find Clark laying out the cushions on the floor along with the throw blankets and pillows. The coffee table is moved aside to allow for some space as the TV glares behind him.

You give him a curious look and he flinches as he notices you. You come forward slowly as the loose hem of your shorts ripples against your thigh. You’re suddenly very aware of how much of your legs are bare. Oh well, it’s only Clark.

“What are you doing?” You ask as you cross the room.

“Oh, me and Jonny do this. I figured you weren’t into making forts but I just thought–” he stops and looks down at his handiwork, “it’s lame, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make things feel normal… for both of us.”

You give an empathetic smile, “it’s nice. Really,” you look him in the eye, the bold blues gleaming back at you, “it’s sweet. And it looks cozy.”

“Great,” he lightens up as he drops the last pillow, “well,” he turns and grabs the remote, “choose something.”

You nod and take the remote. You sit on a cushion and lean back against the couch. You flick through the new additions on the main screen and choose a movie you’ve heard a lot of buzz about. You blink as the light suddenly goes out and you look over to see Clark’s shadow moving towards you. It gives you an eerie wave of deja vu as you recall the silhouette of the intruder.

You shudder and reach to put the remote up on the couch behind you. You turn back around and a large yawn erupts without warning. You rub your itchy eyes and shake your head, the edges of the television almost blurry as you try to focus on it.

“Tired?” Clark nudges you as he sits beside you.

“Didn’t sleep after… after last night,” you say.

“Ah, of course not. That was a stupid question.”

“It’s f-i-ine,” you yawn again, “really. I’m sure I will tonight. Especially with you here.”

“Really?” He breathes.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off if I was alone,” you lean into the couch as you slouch down, “anyway, I’ll be quiet. Movie’s starting.”

He doesn’t answer as he mirrors you, plumping a pillow behind himself as he wiggles down and gazes up at the screen. Your eyelids feel heavy as you fight to keep them open. The opening scene barely ends as you feel your body slackening with fatigue. You’re barely going to make it through the credits.

You turn onto your side, leaning on your elbow as you hug a pillow under your head. You feel Clark shift too. You blink, a long blink, and when you open your eyes again, you’re lost. You have no idea what the characters are talking about.

You flutter your lashes and try to sit up. You give up as an achy weakness bites at your muscles. Oh well, if you fall asleep, you fall asleep. You can’t fight it anymore.

You close your eyes and wade in the shallow pool of exhaustion. Your head goes wobbly as you’re vaguely aware of the hues flickering and flashing from the television. A sudden warmth rests on your hip, a light sensation you can’t place.

“Are you awake?”

The question blows through you. You don’t have the strength to answer. Your eyes feel strange, dry and almost painful.

You wiggle, shaken by a strength not your own. You slip further from consciousness. You flip onto your back, dragged down until you're entirely flat on the floor. Your eyes are glued shut as you’re trapped in the dregs of sleep. You can’t break through, but you can feel the world around you.

You feel a tickle over your stomach and along your chest. A soft squeeze and a dampness blows over your throat. Heat surrounds you as something prods below your jaw, something soft brushing on your neck. A low drone swirls in your ears.

“Mmm, sweetie, you smell good,” Clark’s voice distorts as you languish in the void, “I bet you feel even better.”

Another tickle. Just along your thighs. A coolness that breezes over you as fabric ripples against you. The loose leg rumples against the crease of your leg as a stroking sensation flicks around your clit.

The electrifying currents radiate from your core. Your chest rises and falls with your rushing breaths. Your heart beats loudly, further deafening the muffled voices coming from the television and the low moan drifting into your ear. Your name plucks at you but cannot rouse you.

Wetness across your cheek then on your lips, delving inside, pressing to your tongue. A sloppy lapping, slickness around your mouth, a new weight over you. Tugging at your shirt and roughness against your tender skin. Squeezing and kneading your chest as a fire razes over your.

Your legs are pushed wide. You feel the world shift and tilt as you come near the surface. Your eyes slit and you can see shadows pulsing all around. A heavy blackness hangs over you as you feel heat against your thighs. Firm muscle holding you open.

You gasp as the wetness along your cunt eases the intrusion. Your eyelids flick up and your eyes roll as your head lolls dizzily. You fight to lift your head but can’t. It’s too much just to look around.

The single digits moves in and out of you, inching deeper each time, the ridge of knuckles grazing your walls. You moan as the hand pulls back and a second finger stretches you. In, out, the wet noise of your tight cunt nips at your shame.

It’s not a dream. It can’t be. It feels too real. Too deep. He’s touching you, he’s inside you. Mr. Kent rocks his hand against your cunt as he hangs his head next to yours and pants, his large body draped across you.

“Baby,” he purrs as your arms remain paralysed at your sides, “shhh, it’s okay. It won’t hurt…” he whispers, “the pills will help.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying or what he’s doing. No, no, you’re wrong. It has to be a dream. He wouldn’t do this. He doesn’t want you. He has a wife. He’s heartbroken over her.

The glare of the TV limns his shoulders, broad and rounded with muscles. He’s naked. The colours skew over his skin as he curls his back, dragging his fingers free of your cunt. He leaves a wet trail down your thigh.

He pushes his knees up, keeping you splayed around him. He feels along your shorts, once more delving past the loose cotton. He prods against your folds. A bulbous, thick shape that has you clenching. He lines his tip up with your entrance and leans in, just enough for you to whimper.

He slides back along your lips, slickening himself with your stolen pleasure. He rubs against you, over and over, stopping again at your entrance. He huffs and jostles you, urging his thick forearm under your neck. Your head hangs back over his arm as you groan and curl your fingers against the blankets.

“Baby, it hurts me too,” he dips his hips, forcing his tip past the tight resistance. Your voice rises, tiny, short squeaks as you feel the daze splitting with your inside. “Just a little…” he rocks back and in again, an inch at first, over and over, shaking each time. “Little more…” he sinks in further and your voice grows more steady.

Your eyes are wide and terrified as the pain assures you of reality. You tense but your body won’t obey. You can’t stop him. You can’t move!

“Little…” he repeats and thrusts deeper again, “...more,” he rolls back and in. His arm bends around your neck as he buries his face in your hair. His other hand braces your thigh, nails digging in as he keeps his motion. With each tilt, he slides in more. More and more until you’re agonizingly full.

You let out a whine, long and desperate as he reaches his limit. He keeps himself there as he whimpers and shakes. He wiggles his hips as he feels you around him.

“Oh god, I… you’re so good. Why are you so good?” He puffs and thrusts, jolting your entire body, “you… you’re so good I had to. I know…” he ruts again, “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t…” he chants as he keeps his motion, easing back slowly only to snap back into you.

Your eyes wet and tears trickle out. It’s more than the pain, it’s the horror swelling in you, boiling but unable to flow over as you remain helpless. You close your eyes and choke on a sob as he rams into you faster, flesh clapping louder each time he dips into you.

You ache as he fucks you. On and on. It feels like forever as you strain against the futility, only able to bend and unbend your fingers. Please stop. Please get off. All you can utter are senseless garbles.

“Baby,” he growls, “I’m gonna– I can’t–” He pushes off of you in a panic, sliding halfway before he spasms and bucks, whimpering as you feel him spill into you, “shit, shit, shit,” he pants as he stills himself, “I didn’t mean to… not inside…”

Your head falls to the side, your eyes rolling back into your skull. You let the darkness win. You’re going to wake up and it’s all going to be a nightmare. Right?

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #dcu #dc #superman #to be alone with you #babysitter au

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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months

Note

i am a fiend for early seasons Reid omg i can imagine reader like ‘fixing’ his glasses as an excuse to be a lil close to him and he’s like just about having heart palpitations

Spencer might combust. You’re finally back after a week away on sick leave and he believes you’ve gotten even more beautiful.

“Hey Spence, miss me?” you ask as your heels click in the direction of his desk. He notices right away that your voice is still a little raspy as you sit on the edge of his desk.

You’re wearing purple today, and Spencer’s heart does a little jump when he smells that pink pepper, sandalwood and amber perfume you love so much.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks and you smile, bright and real and Spencer is sure his pulse can be seen in his throat.

“Better now, I kept wanting to see you but I didn’t want to transfer my germs.” you honestly as you riffle through your bag.

Spencer frowns, “You wanted to see me?” It’s surprising. As of twenty seconds ago Spencer believed that the only people who wanted to spend time with him outside of work was his mother and the little boy he plays chess with.

You pull out an envelope and then turn to Spencer with a serious look on your face.

“Of course I did,” before you can carry on Emily and Derek arrive and come over to you offering hugs.

“Why am I not surprised that you stop by Pretty Ricky first?” Derek teases, Spencer’s cheeks going red when you look at him over your shoulder and give him a little smile.

“Because I missed him the most? You and Pen kept calling so I didn’t feel too far from you.” Derek rolls his eyes and Emily squeezes your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back, this one,” she points to Spencer, “has been a little subdued in your absence.”

Spencer scratches the bridge of his nose at Emily’s words, knocking his glasses askew. He’s started wearing them again, after you had told him you missed seeing him in them.

She doesn’t elaborate after that and walks off to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started.

“You did miss me,” you gush and Spencer hopes his cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. “I missed you too, y’know. S’why I wanted to see you.” you whisper that part to him, turning your body so you face him properly.

Spencer’s sure his blush is fire engine red as you lean into his space and fiddle with his glasses till they’re righted.

“I like these new frames by the way, they make you look even more handsome.” you kiss his cheek before hopping off the desk.

“I gotta go check in with Hotch, but if we get a case save me a seat on the jet?” You wave the envelope in your hand as you walk off, still looking at Spencer to catch his nod and when he clears his throat so the, “Yeah,” he responds with isn’t broken.

Derek chuckles as he leans back in his seat.

“You might want to work on that blush Pretty Ricky, I think if she does that again you might pass out.”

Spencer tosses a balled up piece of paper at Derek and though he aims for his head, it barely skims his shoulder. Spencer just really hopes that you don’t mind the hammering of his pulse because if you carry on any longer, he’s sure he’ll need to be hospitalised.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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sergeantxrogers · 1 year

Text

| something that we’re not |

Summary: Just don’t fall in love. That was the only rule. It was literally the only rule, and it was already broken.

Pairing: fwb!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, swearing, alcohol consumption (if you don’t drink just pretend it’s juice xx), kissing, yearning, fluff at the end

Note: heyy y’all... i know it’s been a while and i also know i have a shit ton of unfinished stuff and a couple requests but this idea popped into my head like two days ago and i was gonna explode if i didn’t write it since i’m basically going through the same thing (just without the fluffy ending yet) i’ve been very very busy with college and studying and life in general, i miss you all like crazy tho, i hope you enjoy this :)

_______________

“So, I guess our best option would be moving to Quantico?”

“Do we really wanna be associated with the FBI, though?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“We need to look at more options.”

Your eyes bounced back and forth across the board room, landing on Sam, then Torres, then Fury. You tried staying focused, you really did.

But it was proving difficult with Bucky’s eyes searing into the side of your face, making you acutely aware of every movement you made and every breath you took. You shifted in your chair, eyes flickering towards him, and you saw his jaw clench with his lips pulled back in a subtle smirk. He moved his gaze away from you, instead opting to watch Fury as he spoke about... whatever he was speaking about. Something about finding new headquarters, or working out of multiple areas. Sam would give you the run-down later.

Bucky’s eyes would be the death of you.

You spent the remaining half hour of the meeting avoiding them altogether, biting your tongue and trying to keep your foot still and your breathing even.

“Y/N,” Fury’s voice boomed, and you jolted slightly.

All eyes turned to you.

“Any thoughts? You seem quiet today,” Fury observed, head tilted slightly.

You shook your head. “No, I just- No. Nothing to add, sir. I’m okay.”

You gave him an awkward smile as he stared at you a bit longer. Eventually, he decided he had grilled you enough, and called the meeting to an end.

You let out a long, quiet sigh, and turned your chair to face the glass table in front of you, papers and files askew and messy. You cleared your throat as your eyes followed everyone through the door as they left, dragging your hands slowly as you collected your papers. Sam left first, dropping a heavy hand on your shoulder as he went by. Torres went next, giving you a boyish smile, and Fury left after him without a word.

Your fingers tingled as you slammed your binder shut, trying to keep your smile at bay. You refused to look up, because you knew if you did, you’d be met with those eyes that got you to do anything they wanted.

“Problem?”

You shook your head nonchalantly, keeping your eyes glued to the plastic cover of your binder. “Not on my side. You could’ve tried being a bit more subtle with the staring, though.”

You heard him chuckle, and finally, you lifted your gaze to rest on him. A mischievous smile rested on his lips, his tongue dragging across his bottom teeth as he stared at you, slowly making his way around the table.

You stared back, unwilling to let him know how fazed you truly were with his proximity, even though it felt like your skin was on fire, a heavy, slow beat thundering in your ears and through your veins, travelling it’s course throughout your body and finding home deep in your core. You shifted your hips slightly. Bucky noticed.

He stopped walking only when he was a foot away from you. You swore if he was half an inch closer you would’ve fell to your knees in front of him, his gravitational pull too strong to avoid.

He was the sun, bright, burning, and energetic, and you were the singular, lone planet orbiting him, never able to pull away far enough to forget him, but never close enough to really, truly, have him. You just went in circles around him, over and over again, day in, day out, and he watched you and laughed. At least, that was what it felt like sometimes.

Bucky studied your eyes, gaze dropping to your lips, before lifting to meet your eyes again. Your chest rose and fell unsteadily no matter how much you tried to keep it in check.

“Come over tonight?” he whispered, eyes drinking in the way your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice.

You felt a tinge of sadness, buried somewhere deep inside your heart; a place you had closed off and locked up for good a long time ago in order to keep from breaking altogether. You kicked it down, swatting it away like an annoying fly before Bucky began to notice your hesitation.

“Okay,” you said softly, nodding. The smile on his face was almost worth the pain that singular word stabbed you with.

__________

One Year Earlier

You set the extra beers on the table with a soft grunt. Sarah turned, almost poking you with the barbeque fork in her hand, and gave you a grateful smile.

“You’re a sweetheart, Y/N,” she cooed, and you brushed her off with a wave of your hand, despite the blush on your cheeks.

“No biggie, you know I’m always down to help.”

Sarah leaned over the table, abandoning the grill for a second to place a kiss on your forehead. “You can go now, have some fun.”

You smiled and turned to walk away before she grabbed your wrist.

“Take one, honey,” Sarah said, pointing to the beers in front of you. “You’re a guest, too, ya know.”

You hummed with a happy smile before pulling out a beer from the package, then pausing. Before your judgment got the better of you, you pulled out another one, cold against your fingers as the droplets of condensation rolled over them.

“See ya, Sar!” you called out over your shoulder, and she waved the fork over her head in goodbye.

You weaved through the sparse crowd of people, saying hi to a few and smiling at some others. Sam was nowhere to be found, but you figured he was the one responsible for the children screaming with laughter somewhere near the end of the dock, so you decided you would look for him later. The water splashed gently against the wooden dock, the sound of the waves bringing you a sense of peace as you squinted behind your sunglasses against the sunset and looked for Bucky.

Finally, you saw a figure, dark and shoulders wide against the orange expanse of the sky, sitting on the hard top above the helm of Sam and Sarah’s boat. His feet were hanging over the glass windows, and you knew Sam would throw a fit if he saw him dirtying the glass with his shoes.

You smiled to yourself before gathering the courage to clamber onto the boat, holding on to the two beers for dear life as you did so.

“That you, dolly?” he called down, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Who else would it be, dumbass,” you replied, holding up the beers and letting him take them before you grabbed onto the small ladder and hauled yourself up.

He scooted to the side, making room for you as you sat down beside him with a huff.

Bucky had opened the beers with his hand as you were climbing up, so you took one from him with a soft ‘thanks’, pushing your glasses up onto your head.

The two of you sipped in silence for a couple of minutes, your eyes scanning the open water, sparkling in the red and pink hues of the setting sun. It wasn’t as hot here, near the water, as it was back on the dock with the people and the food and the laughter. Everything seemed quieter, behind you, in another world. The boat back and forth softly.

“What gave you this idea?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky was silent for a moment, tapping a finger against the glass of his beer, before shrugging and turning to look at you, squinting an eye against the sun.

“It’s peaceful,” he said, and you nodded.

You held your own beer between your legs and leaned back to rest on the palms of your hands. “You feelin’ okay, Buck?”

He took in a deep breath as he looked out ahead, staring at the water before just nodding his head.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, I’m good, actually. I just needed a moment to clear my head. Nothing bad, just... I’m grateful, is all.”

“Grateful for having such amazing best friends like Sam and me? Or grateful for being able to open beer without an opener? Or maybe grateful for Sarah’s world-famous barbeque chicken?” you teased, and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

He turned to look at you and shrugged. “All of it, I guess.”

He had said it so softly, and so truthfully, that your first reflex was to sit up straight, bringing yourself closer to him. You brought a leg up and folded it underneath the other one, left hanging beside his, so you were turned to face him completely. Your beer was left getting warmer in your lap, but you didn’t mind, because the way Bucky was staring at you right now made nothing else matter. It made you believe everything was gonna be okay eventually.

And you didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the soft waves rocking the boat, or maybe it was the cool summer breeze that danced across your arms. Maybe it was the call of a seagull somewhere in the distance and the soft murmur of the party back on the dock that made you close your eyes and lean into him. And he did the same, connecting your lips with a soft sigh that made you wonder if he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

Bucky tasted like beer and peppermint gum. His lips were soft, and warm, and a bit salty, as if he had come up out of the ocean himself, some form of Poseidon sent to seduce you and take you back underwater with him forever. And you would gladly let him if it meant he would keep kissing you like this.

You heard a soft rolling, and then a bang and a crash before realizing Bucky’s beer had rolled off the hard top and crashed onto floor of the boat. And he didn’t care, opting to now use his free hands to pull you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. This sent your own beer following his, the sound of glass breaking making you giggle against his lips.

“Sam’s gonna kill us,” you muttered, and he smiled into the kiss.

“I don’t care,” he whispered, hands travelling underneath your cotton shirt and leaving trails of fire wherever his fingers passed.

He pulled away, and you brought your hands up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. He looked so beautiful, lips red and puffy, cheeks painted by a soft blush, eyes hooded and dark.

“I could get used to this,” he said, voice hoarse, and it sent chills down your spine.

You merely nodded. “Me too.”

Bucky brought a hand up to your neck and pulled you down into him for another kiss, and you melted into his touch.

“This is- this is good,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you just sighed and hummed in agreement.

“We should do this more,” he said, hands gripping your hips and moving you against him slightly. “We should do this a lot more.”

You bit your lip and stared into his eyes as you tried catching your breath. One of your hands found its way from his hair to his face, your finger tracing the worry lines between his brows softly, then dropping to travel across the bridge of his nose. “We should.”

Bucky nodded, and gave your hips another squeeze.

“Just don’t fall in love,” he said, a teasing tone lilting his voice, and the breath in your throat hitched.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Just don’t fall in love,” he repeated, nipping softly at your neck as he spoke.

You scoffed. “Not a problem, trust me.”

Bucky lifted his head from your neck to look up at you. He gave you a boyish smile, and you rolled your eyes at him in return.

You hoped he couldn’t sense the way your heart split open, flooding with sadness and heartbreak at the realization that he didn’t love you the way you loved him. You hoped he couldn’t read the desperation in your eyes and on your tongue as each kiss dimmed your soul a bit more.

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the fact that you were madly in love with him already, but decided to pretend not to be, because having him in any way was better than not having him at all.

__________

“I just don’t know how much longer I can keep going.”

Sarah hummed in contemplation, wiping down the glass in her hand and setting it in the overhead cabinet.

“Well, have you talked to him about it?”

You scoffed. “No fucking way. I’d rather suffer in silence than lose him completely.”

Sarah threw the rag in her hand over her shoulder and rested her hip on the counter. She crossed her arms and gave you one of those looks of hers where she just knew you were bullshitting her.

“Y/N,” she sighed as she stepped over to the dining table where you were sat with your chin in your hand. “I’m begging you to think this through. You know I only want what’s best for you.”

You give her an unamused side eye and shrug your shoulders. You kept your focus on the placemat in front of you, picking at the edge with your finger.

Sarah pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat, bringing a hand up to squeeze your forearm.

“It’s been a year of you hurting after him and him not giving a damn. Now, I love Bucky, just as much as I love Sam, but he can be so dumb sometimes. It’s like he misses social cues on purpose.”

Her exasperated tone pulled a smile to your lips and you quirked your brow in agreement. Sarah continued.

“I love seeing the two of you together, believe me, if anyone wants you to end up together officially, it’s me. But if you’re too afraid to talk to him about it because you’re worried you’ll lose him, then there’s only one thing you can do, honey.”

You gave her a look, and she gave you an apologetic smile in return. “This friends with benefits thing just isn’t cutting it anymore, I fear. You have to let him go.”

You took in a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay, because no matter how much you avoided it, you knew Sarah was right. You had two options: risk talking to Bucky about it and potentially ruining whatever semblance of friendship you had left. Or, you could stop giving in to him and running whenever he called just to feel a sliver of something bigger.

You let out a frustrated groan and let your head hit the table. Neither option sounded appealing, but you supposed if you had to pick one, you’d rather it be the latter. Ignoring someone was always the easy way out.

Or so you thought.

Three weeks later, and you were about to implode. It was difficult to go no-contact when all Bucky did was contact you.

Dozens of his calls left to voicemail and ignored text messages, you thought he would’ve gotten the message by now. However, he only seemed to be getting worse.

You left Sarah’s every time Sam called to say he was dropping by with Bucky. You asked Fury to put you on assignments with Torres instead of Bucky. You were doing your very hardest to come up with excuses as to why you couldn’t come over every time Bucky managed to corner you in a hallway or text you to stop by.

You thought it would get easier over time, yet your heart only ached more and more each day you woke up and remembered: it wasn’t the same anymore. Those first two seconds after waking up, before that sinking feeling of realization hit, were something you treasured more than life itself.

You wondered if he noticed. If he asked himself what had happened, or if everything was okay. He hadn’t come to visit, though, so you supposed he was just ready to move on to the next one after all.

__________

Bucky tried focusing on whatever Sam was saying. He really, truly was. But it was proving difficult when his thoughts kept pulling him back to you. Or rather, the lack of you these days.

It didn’t help that everywhere he looked and everything he saw reminded him of you in some way. The fishing nets Sam made him help haul over the bow? He smiled to himself at the memory of your foot getting tangled in them, making you trip and fall with a swear. The gulls flying above them? Almost like that time one flew down and stole a huge bite of your burger, leaving you wide eyed in shock. And God forbid he looked up, at the hard top above the helm. The first time you ever kissed him, soft hands and soft touch, marked to this day by the beer stains on the floorboards of the ship.

“Buck?”

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to go out fishing with me later since Sarah’s busy with the kids. The babysitter cancelled on her, and you know she can’t leave those boys alone in the house for longer than five minutes.”

Bucky smiled fondly and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

Sam threw a rag at him, wet and dripping with soapy water.

“How about you actually help clean something for once, Barnes?”

Bucky rolled his eyes but obliged, turning to his side to start wiping down the hull as far as he could reach. As he wiped, he cleared his throat.

“Have you, uh, seen Y/N lately?”

Sam paused his mopping, letting out a sigh and resting his elbow on the mop handle. “Yeah, man, she’s at Sarah’s, like, all the time. Why?”

Bucky’s heart sank at Sam’s words, and he tried getting rid of the uncomfortable feeling in his chest as he shifted on his feet nonchalantly.

“Oh.”

“Why?” Sam repeated.

Bucky shrugged, still avoiding Sam’s eyes. “I dunno. I get the feeling she’s been avoiding me these days.”

Sam stayed quiet, and that prompted Bucky to look up from his wiping and make eye contact with him. He gave him a knowing look, leaning against the mop.

“What?” Bucky asked defensively.

“Does she have any reason to be avoiding you?” Sam asked him, and Bucky paused.

“I don’t think so,” he replied after a moment.

Sam scoffed and shook his head disbelievingly. “Alright man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Bucky threw his hands up and turned towards him. “What is it? Do you know something I don’t?”

“You’re really stupid sometimes. You know that, right?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, actually, you’ve told me multiple times.”

“Good,” Sam said with a satisfied smile and clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Just makin’ sure you didn’t forget.”

Suddenly, his smile dropped and he lowered his voice. “But seriously dude, just go and check on her. Don’t be a jackass.”

Bucky stood still, even after Sam turned to continue mopping the deck, staring at the back of his head. He nodded slowly, to himself, and squeezed the rag in his hand a little tighter.

__________

The knock on your door had you groaning in annoyance, prompting you to push yourself up off your bed where you had been rotting away over the weekend. You had told Sarah you weren’t feeling very well, and it wasn’t a lie. You had just omitted the fact that you were emotionally unwell.

A chill ran through your body as you made your way to the door, making you wrap your robe a little tighter around your body. You heaved out a heavy sigh as you unlocked the door.

“Sarah, I already told you I don’t need any-”

It wasn’t Sarah at the door. Sarah’s eyes weren’t that specific shade of blue that made you want to sink into them and never come back out. Only one person had eyes like that-

“Bucky?”

“Y/N.”

“What... what are you doing here?”

“What, I can’t visit my best friend?”

A tiny, needle-like tinge pierced your heart at his words, yet another reminder that you were just that to him: his friend.

You stuttered, tripping over your words as he sidestepped you, making his way into your place.

“How have you been?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks, so I was wondering if you were okay,” Bucky clarified, shrugging.

You stared at him, standing in the middle of your living room, black t-shirt and black jeans so out of place in the midst of all your pink and grey furniture and decorations. Yet somehow, he looked like he was exactly where he belonged.

You shook your head, trying to brush him off with a slight chuckle. “I’m fine, Buck, I don’t... I don’t know what you mean-”

“Yes you do,” he interrupted you, cutting straight to the chase. “Why won’t you answer my calls? Why haven’t you been returning my texts? Why do you leave Sarah’s the moment you find out I’m coming over? You’ve been ignoring me, Y/N, and I wanna know what I did to deserve that.”

You stood flabbergasted, opening and closing your mouth, at a loss for words.

“I just- I,” you stuttered, shaking your head. “I have no idea what you’re talk-”

“Y/N,” he pressed, and in two long strides he was right in front of you, towering over you with his supersoldier frame. His hands came up to hold your face, his eyes searching yours for an answer. “Please don’t make a fool of me.”

Your bottom lip immediately began to quiver, and Bucky’s eyes softened.

“Bucky I-”

“Shit,” he swore softly, leading you over to the couch where he sat you down, kneeling on his knees in front of you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, dolly.”

You shook your head, even as the tears spilled over your lash line, because it was so stupid. The whole thing was just so stupid.

Bucky’s lips pressed against yours feverishly as he tried to kiss the tears away, covering your lips and cheeks in soft pecks. You tried pulling away, his actions only making the tears fall harder.

“Bucky, please,” you whispered hoarsely, and he pulled back to take a good look at you, his thumbs stroking your wet cheeks. He looked pained to see you in tears, which only made it harder for you to push him away.

“Y/N....”

You shook your head firmly, reaching your hands up to wrap around his wrists. “No.”

“What?”

“No,” you repeated. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Bucky looked slightly taken aback, and he dropped his hands from your face. “Do what?”

You shrugged and sniffled, gesturing between the two of you. “This... whatever this is.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky looked genuinely confused, and it only made a sob tear through your chest.

“It hurts too much, Buck. I can’t stand to be the one you call only when you’re bored, or horny, or frustrated after a bad date. I shouldn’t have let it get this far in the first place but I’m just so fucking stupid because I kept thinking... maybe it’ll change... maybe he’ll realize. God, Bucky, I love you so much. I would do anything for you, including bring myself to fucking ruins if it means being able to hold you and touch you, even for just a little bit. You’re hurting me, Bucky. I can’t breathe when I’m around you.”

You took in a choppy breath after you finished your small rant, squeezing your eyes shut and letting fresh tears streak your cheeks. Bucky was quiet, and you were too afraid to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him with your eyes closed.

You felt his fingers brush the tears from your jaw. “Sorry for what?”

You swallowed heavily. “Sorry for falling in love with you.”

The silence surrounding you was deafening. It was threatening to suffocate you, pounding in your ears and clawing at your throat.

“Dolly,” Bucky whispered, and you whimpered.

“Look at me,” he said softly, and you refused, shaking your head like a little child. “Look at me, please.”

He grabbed your face and forced your head up. You opened your eyes to find his staring back.

“I love you, too,” he began, but you started to pull away.

“No, no, Bucky, you’re being mean-”

“Baby, please-”

“Bucky! You love me as your friend! You love me... you love me the way you loved Steve, or the way you love Sam. I’m in love with you, Buck, to the point where I would jump off a cliff if it meant helping you, or saving you, or even making you fucking smile.”

“Listen to me!” Bucky snapped, shaking your head in his hands slightly. You ran silent, punctuating his sentence with a teary hiccup as you studied his face.

He looked more distraught than you had ever seen him. His eyes were glinting with unshed tears of his own under the soft living room lights, and his brows were creased together in worry.

“What you don’t understand, Y/N, is that I am in love with you. And I always have been. And I... I think I always will be.”

You stared at him.

His fingers twitched against your face as you began shaking your head.

“But that... that doesn’t make any sense,” you retorted, and Bucky let out a sigh.

“I know,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them. “I only warned you not to fall in love because I... I wanted you to find someone better than me. Someone with less baggage. Someone who could give you the life you deserve. Not me. Never me. But I was just selfish.”

“Bucky...”

You let a teary laugh.

He looked up at you through his lashes.

“It’s always you. It’s always gonna be you. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me sooner,” you cooed, bringing a hand up to brush his hair back from his forehead.

“I was just... I was afraid you only wanted something physical, so I pretended it didn’t bother me. I just liked being near you any way I could.”

You stared at him for a moment before a genuine laugh bubbled out your throat.

“We’re both so fucking stupid,” you said with a teary smile, tracing the shape of his lips with your fingertips.

He smiled against your feather-light touch and let out a content sigh.

“I love you, truly. I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise,” he whispered into your palm, placing a kiss to it.

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We get a fresh start now.”

_______________

TAGLIST:

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1K notes · View notes

thedroneranger · 1 year

Text

A Little Time Alone

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: Bradley and his wife have been busy with everything except each other.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge. This fic is inspired by Luke Comb's The Kind of Love We Make.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 3.7k

It had been weeks since we spent any time together.

Between the new curriculum and latest batch of pilots, I was coming home late every night and leaving early every morning.

At first, she was doing her damnedest to stay up until I got home. Each night, before sliding into bed, I would slip her tablet from her clutches and remove her askew reading glasses, placing both on her nightstand. Once I settled into bed, unconsciously, she would snuggle into me, allowing me to fall asleep with a smile.

However, lately, it was clear she had been sleeping for hours. Tucked into bed, fast asleep with just her hair peeking between the bedding. I would slide into my side and do my best not to disturb her.

Each morning, I didn’t leave without giving her a goodbye kiss, but guilt always edged my decision to not wake her. Instead, I would press my lips to her forehead or cheek, whichever was exposed.

Things seemed to take a turn after her plan to surprise me with lunch on base was foiled. Normally, she would coordinate with Maverick, if he were around, or the security guard she had befriended to sneak into my office with sandwiches from our favorite deli.

Of course, she always wore a dress, which made it easy for me to bend her over my desk for a pleasurable finish.

We had a text code so I knew to expect her. The last time she plotted a lunchtime date, I, unbeknownst, stood her up. Unable to check my texts all morning, I never saw her message and never went to my office. It wasn’t until later in the evening I saw several messages and a couple missed calls.

I was devastated and wanted to apologize in person. However, she was always asleep when I got home. I even tried to call a few times during the day, but I never managed to catch her. After that, we exchanged fewer and fewer texts throughout each day.

Even our weekends had been spent separately. I found myself on base more and more for special events and training. Hell, the last couple weekends, I even slept there.

She, on the other hand, has been a godsend, representing us both at family get-togethers and other personal events.

I can only imagine how she felt, likely making up excuses for my lack of presence.

The whole situation made me absolutely miserable.

“Bradley. Bradley. Bradley!” My head jerked to find Maverick intensely staring at me.

“Yeah, Mav?” I coughed to clear my throat and gave him my full attention.

He and I were alone in his office. Maverick and I were co-instructors for an upcoming class. We were going over the lesson plan when my thoughts drifted. “What’s on your mind, Bradley?” Mav put down his pen, leaned back in his chair and looked at me.

Shifting in my chair, I noticed the tension in my shoulders and that I’d been holding my breath. Subtly untensing, I spoke. “I can’t remember the last time I spent time with my wife, and she’s getting distant.”

Maverick leaned forward. He loved her like a daughter. Actually, I was convinced he liked her more than me. Mav was always reminding me not to let work ruin our relationship.

Not that he had room to talk.

Although, he and Penny have appeared rock solid since getting back together. Once Maverick proposed and they wed, Penny was the happiest I’ve ever seen her.

“Bradley—”

I cut off Mav. “I know, I know. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Go home,” he said.

“What?” My eyebrow cocked.

“Go home. Report back on Monday,” Mav said. We stared at each other for almost a full minute. “Go fix it.” The tone in Mav’s voice told me he was about to make it an order, so I nodded, gave a quick salute and dashed out.

Not having been home at a decent hour in nearly a month, I forgot what traffic was like. It had me doubting if I would be home any earlier than as of late.

Her vehicle was in the driveway when I finally pulled up.

My feet were carrying me faster than my brain was processing. My mind was trying to get my hands under control so I could get the key in the door, when the door flung open.

A gasp left her lips as our gazes locked. “Hey, stranger.” She did her best to hide a smirk. Unfazed, I walked toward her, forcing her to back up and allow me into the house. Once far enough in, I closed the door.

“Hey,” I replied. My eyes raked across her form. She was wearing a short red sundress and some strappy sandals. My cock twitched. I could not recall the last time I saw her in anything other than our fluffy duvet.

“I should go—I don’t want to be late.” She walked toward me and got on her toes to kiss my cheek. However, I turned my head and captured her lips with mine. She hesitated for a second, but melted into me as I wrapped an arm around her waist and the other hugged her ribcage. Her hand slid from my bicep up to my neck.

We separated just enough to look into each other’s eyes. “I hate that I forgot what you feel like,” she said.

The comment made me hold her tighter. “We can’t have that,” I said as a matter of fact. Her eyebrow and lips quirked. I smiled at her. “I’ve been missing you more than you can imagine,” I confessed.

She was still looking at me with a tight smile. “I may have an idea.” She pursed her lips and looked off the side. Then, she looked back at me and pressed her lips to mine. As we kissed, I uncoiled an arm from around her, so I could reach back to lock the door.

She heard the click. “I have to go,” she said with her lips still against mine.

Again, we separated just enough to look at one another. “Cancel.” My voice was more demanding than either of us expected. She looked surprised but not offended. “We need a little time alone.” I sounded softer. “So tonight, I’m only gonna be your man,” I told her. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m off the entire weekend.”

“Bradley Alexander—” She was ready to scold me for messing with her.

“Scout’s honor.” I held my fingers up in the Eagle Scout sign. We stared at each other. “There’s no way I’m leaving this house, especially when you look this good.” My hand dropped lower to squeeze her backside. She dropped her head trying to hide the blush in her cheeks as if I’d never seen it before.

“Go shower,” she said. My grip on her loosened so she could step away. “I’m not spending the evening huffing jet fuel.” She looked my attire up and down. I left in such a rush, I still had my flight suit on.

Extra swagger in her hips, she sauntered to the kitchen. For a split second, I considered following her and bending her over the nearest surface. But tonight called for something slower, softer than a counter quickie.

Instead, I went to our ensuite bathroom and let the water pressure ease my muscles. Soothed by the water and steam, I lost track of time. When I realized, I hopped out, did a quick shave and dressed.

We were home, but she was wearing that sinful sundress, so I at least wanted to wear something I knew she’d love. I put on my favorite pair of worn jeans, a white tank and an Aloha shirt I knew was one of her favorites.

I padded downstairs, noticing the lights were low and she’d lit candles. A smile turned my lips when I heard Led Zeppelin IV spinning on the record player—I thought about the countless times we made out to this soundtrack.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks. She was sitting on our small breakfast table, palm supporting her, head tilted back, wine glass to her lips. One leg ran the radius of the table while the other hung off at the knee. Her heel popping to the beat of the music.

She turned to look at me. “Wine?” She held out her glass. I shook my head as a coy smile pulled a corner of my mouth. She winked as she polished off the last sip in her glass.

As I approached the table, she shifted so she was facing me and placed the glass at her side. Stepping between her legs, I pushed the glass further back. A hand on either side of her, I leaned so we were at eye level.

Her hand cupped the side of my jaw, and her thumb ran along my lips. Mindlessly, I pressed a kiss to it. The tiniest smile curled the corners of her mouth as she searched my face. I hummed as her fingers traversed the raised skin of my scars and came to rest on the dip of my chest just below my clavicles. “Do you have any idea how handsome you are?” she asked.

Surely she felt my chest rumble as I chuckled. “Only when you tell me.” My voice was raspier than usual. Leaning further into her, I dropped my head to place soft kisses on her neck.

“Surely other women tell you.” I knew exactly what she was doing.

“I can assure you, they keep their thoughts to themselves,” I replied. Between kisses I told her about my latest class catching sight of her on base. It was the last time we had lunch together before our drought. A couple of them commented about a hot civilian. Turning, I found her chatting with Maverick.

I told them the easiest way to not return from a mission was ogling another pilot’s spouse. One of the women who had been doing her damnedest to flirt with me blurted, “That’s your wife?!” I nodded at her with a wink. She paled and never looked me in the eye again.

The earned laugh that quickly morphed into a moan had me considering unzipping my pants and unceremoniously fucking her. But I had to pace myself. She was flat against the table, my body covering her with my forearms holding me up as I kissed whatever exposed skin was available. The raggedness of her breathing kept me going.

“Do you know how hard it is for me not to wake you up every night at some ungodly hour?” I told her, picking my head up to see her response.

Her bottom lip was between her teeth as her eyes twinkled in the low light. “Why wouldn’t you wake me up?” she asked. Her thighs were squeezing my hips, the skirt of her dress covering almost nothing.

“First, you sleep through absolutely everything.” She chuckled as my hands skimmed her bare thighs. “We could be having a magnitude 10 earthquake, and you’d sleep through it.” She nodded in agreement as one of my hands slid between us.

I froze. “Where are your underwear?” She never went commando without a purpose.

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Maybe I was hoping you would be home, in bed, when I returned. And I could wake you up.” She paused. “If you came home.” Her gaze was intense.

My smile faltered and my head dropped with my shoulders in a moment of guilt. Quickly, I looked back up at her. “I’m sorry.” Still gripping her thigh, my thumb drew circles on it.

“Show me,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I had expected her to scold me or for us to get into a deep conversation about the past month.

She moved my hand from her thigh to between her legs. “Actions speak louder than words.” Expertly, she maneuvered my hand to guide two fingers into her. “Show me how sorry you are. How much you’ve missed me.”

For a minute, I froze. Tired of waiting for me, she wrapped her hand around my wrist to slide my fingers in and out of her. Finally, I got a hold of myself, my thumb pressing to her swollen bundle of nerves and the pads of my fingers stimulating that spongy spot inside. Her breath caught as I took over.

“That’s it, honey.” She melted against the table. “Let’s take it nice and slow.” She clenched around my fingers—I thought I might come right then. “Fuck,” I said under my breath. She smiled as she watched me squeeze my eyes shut.

Back on her elbows, her fingers snuck into my hair and pulled me until our lips connected. My lips parted just enough to allow her tongue in. It toyed with mine, matching the rhythm of my fingers pumping in and out of her. Her lips left mine with a smack. “Bradley,” she moaned as I alternated between scissoring my fingers and curling them against her G spot.

“That’s it,” I cooed, keeping the same pace and pattern. I could feel her tightening around my fingers. “Fuck,” I breathed out, enjoying the feel of her. My lips fell to her neck, knowing the additional contact would send her over the edge.

The stutter breath she let out matched her contractions around my fingers. “That’s it, honey.” I watched her face as she went through her high, my fingers keeping pace. As she untensed, I slowed to a stop. She looked at me as she steadied her breathing and a smile appeared. She continued to watch as I cleaned her from my fingers. Immediately, she pulled me down to taste herself.

She hummed as we separated. “Go pick another album. I wanted to make out with you on the couch.” My cock jumped from just the words leaving her mouth. Standing to my full height, I helped her off the table.

She shooed me with her hands to the living room where my inherited record player was housed. I thumbed the sleeves until I found the perfect selection: The Velvet Underground’s Loaded.

As soon as the needle fell into the groove, she appeared with the bottle of wine. We both traipsed to the couch. She split the wine as I settled into the sofa. I accepted a glass and then beckoned her to sink into my side. Together, we sipped and listened to the opening song.

As the next began to play, she placed our empty glasses on the coffee table and straddled my lap. My hands came to rest on the tops of her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher to expose more skin. She shimmied even closer to me, so she was at even more of a height advantage—my head was tipped almost completely back.

Her fingers sifted through my locks, her nails massaging my scalp. A deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding escaped my parted lips. She smiled as she watched me relax. My eyes were practically in the back of my head, her massage turning my mind to mush.

She tugged my hair, which earned a moan and caused me to shift under her. She ground against me, the stiff seams of my jeans caressing her most sensitive spot. I let her roll my head to the side so she had better access to pepper kisses along my neck. She continued to grind against my denim-clad crotch. Boy, did I wish there were less fabric between us.

My fingers dug into her thighs as she sank her teeth into my neck. “Christ,” I said under my breath. She sat back and eyed me, proud of the reaction she got. Her thumb passed over the spot that would surely be purple later. “Maybe your students will have fewer questions come Monday.” Before I could say anything, she leaned in and sweetly pressed her lips to mine.

“You’re such a sour patch kid,” I teased. She smiled at the nickname while she nipped my lips and swirled her tongue against mine. At the same time, her hands were busy unfastening my jeans. She climbed off my lap, and I lifted my hips to help her rid me of my garments.

Climbing back into my lap, her knees bracketed my hips and the tops of her feet contoured the curve of my thighs. Her core rested against my length. I wanted nothing more than to guide myself into her.

“It’s really unfair you look this good in such a silly print.” Her fingers followed the shoulder seams of my shirt to the collar. Using the points, she pulled me back in for a kiss. As we separated, her hands dipped under my collar and over my shoulders to help shed the cloth.

Once that was off, she took advantage of a tiny hole I hadn't noticed in my tank. Penetrating it with her finger, she pulled and the fabric easily gave way. I watched as the hole grew and she fisted the fabric to snap it at the hems. She untangled me from the ruined garment and dropped it to the floor.

My arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer and hands palming her backside through her dress. Her hips lifted, and with one hand, she guided me into her. Slowly, she returned to her resting position. A sigh left my mouth as I felt her adjusting to me.

“Honey,” I trailed off as she squeezed me a couple times. We kept eye contact as she began to slowly lift and lower herself. The pace quickened just a bit as she fell into rhythm with the music.

As she kept going, my hands slipped under her dress and began to pull it up until it was over her head. Once it was off, my mouth immediately found one of her nipples. The moan that left her lips was euphoric.

It made me bite her harder. She let out something between a moan and cry as her nails sank into my shoulders. I hissed, enjoying the burn as she scored my skin.

She was frustrated, and I wanted every bit of that energy.

Not wanting to miss any of it, I coiled an arm back around her waist and easily flipped us so she was laying on the couch parallel with the cushions.

Her doe eyes stared up at me, filled with surprise. My quirked lip grew to a smirk, as I anchored a hand on the cushion beside her head and the other on the couch back. My hips began to rock, setting a new pace for us. The lust came back to her gaze as her soft thighs met my hips and her heels found purchase in the dimples of my ass.

I held it together as her nails gently ran from the top of my cock to just under my pecs and back. Her touch was soft but firm enough not to tickle. I flexed a little extra.

Watching her breasts bounce with each thrust was enamoring. Her breathy gasps each time I bottomed out were the only noise I was hearing. My eyes sank as she stopped touching me and started touching herself.

My pace stayed the same, but my gaze was trapped where we connected. I slid in and out while her digits swirled along her swollen nerves. My hips stuttered from the added pleasure as her index and forefingers made a V around the base of cock. “Fuck me,” I whined.

She smiled. “No, you’re fucking me,” she corrected. We laughed together.

“I missed this so, so much,” I confessed. Wanting to be closer to her, I sank to my elbows. I tucked my palm behind her head, letting my fingers sift through her hair. Her eyes were hooded as she looked at me through her lashes.

We locked gazes as she took a deep breath and moved her hands to my waist, her nails sinking into the flesh just above my hips. At the same time, I felt her entire lower half contract, thighs hugging me and core convulsing.

“Bradley.” My name was long and drawn out as it left her lips. It was enough to make me spill into her. I breathed her name into the crook of her neck as I curled my arm under her head, my elbow became her head rest, to hug her whole body as close as possible. Her hand ran up my side and hooked around my shoulder.

I followed her name with a pleasurable hiss as her teeth sank into the meat of my shoulder. She punctuated the action with a tender kiss. The first of several she trailed into the crook of my neck as we rode out our orgasms.

Just as we came down from our high, the record ended. “Perfect timing.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling out and heading to the record player. She whined, but turned to enjoy the view as I walked away. Patiently, she waited as I flipped the vinyl and put it back on the player. I lined up the needle perfectly, and immediately the opening notes seeped out of the speakers.

By the time I was headed back to the couch, she was standing beside it. “Should we change the dress code in the house to birthday suits only?” I pressed my body to hers, enjoying the full frontal contact and handful of her ass I grabbed. She squeaked and arched her back. My lips covered hers to distract from her attempt to escape. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled into her lips.

We parted just far enough to look one another in the eyes. Her expression was playful. “Apology accepted.” I squeezed her around her ribcage and stuck my face in the crook of her neck. Although we were stark naked, our hug was earnest.

As we separated, she held my biceps, keeping us close. “Let’s go upstairs so you can keep doing what you’re doing to me all night long.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Together, we blew out all the candles, and then walked upstairs hand-in-hand.

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anjaelle · 1 year

Text

Study Buddies

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Black!Reader Summary: He's decidedly taken permanent residence in this dorm room, and you can't say it bothers you much. Warnings: Language, mentions of bruising/battering. Word Count: 2k a/n: The successor to Dumpster Diving. The same two losers in the same universe. Only because you guys asked so nicely.

(gif source)

--x--

"I feel like this is an abuse of my good graces."

You watched as Dave Lizewski climbed through your window for the third time that week and tripped over your extension cord, falling to the floor with a dull thud. He popped back up, readjusting his hoodie and his glasses.

"You really need to move that somewhere."

"Right," you nodded, nudging the power strip with your foot, "gotta make sure my flurry of suitors have clear access to my boudoir."

He cracked a smile at you, one he rarely expressed in public for other people, and you felt your heart thump against your ribs.

Absolutely fucking not.

You plopped onto your bed and crossed your legs, "Okay, Kick-Ass, what brings you to my window this time?"

You were prepared for another round of bruises and cuts from endless fights he seemed to get himself into. Sometimes he explained the injuries, other times he didn't. But he was just happy he had someone who could help him without asking too many questions.

This time he simply shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

"I kinda...just wanted to see you today."

"Oh!"

There was a heavy pause and he scratched the back of his head.

"Yeaaaah."

You propped your chin on your fist, inquisitively, eying the way he seemed to fit so seamlessly into your living space. "You just saw me at study group this afternoon."

"C'mon you know it's not the same."

He was right. Sure, you had the tendency to sit next to each other in study group and bump knees. And you could feel his glances every five minutes. And sure, when he wasn't passing glances at you, you were passing glances at him wondering why he wasn't looking at you.

And, yes, you did know what it felt like to have him sleep on your chest while you stroked his soft curly hair. But that usually only happened after you got him sorted out. This was new.

You scooted over and patted the space next to you on the bed, which he happily plopped down on like he always did after leaning over to kiss you on the forehead.

"So you came all this way and climbed the side of a building for little old me? I still don't know why you don't use the front door."

“The security guard creeps me out. Besides, I’m not spider-man. I just used some guy’s ladder.”

“You stole someone’s ladder?”

“He wasn’t using it!”

“What if he’s on some roof trying to get down now?”

He stared at you. You stared back. His eyes widened.

"I'll be right back!" He jumped up and rushed out the door, shouting behind him, "Prop the front door open for me!"

He came back about ten minutes later, red-faced with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hair was messy like he'd been running, and his glasses were slightly askew.

"So..."he took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his sweater, "there was a guy on the roof. He was really pissed and, uh, I got freaked out and ran."

You noticed the grass stains on his clothes, which was clear evidence that he tripped and fell at least once on the way back. It was hard not to feel the swell of...something...deep in the pit of your stomach.

"Another job well done, Kick-Ass. Always thinking of the common man." You playfully tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, zipping it up and down while he cleaned his dirty glasses off on the Watchmen shirt you got him.

Because that's what friends did. You bought stuff for each other. For fun.

He didn't think twice about stripping down to his underclothes to throw his things in the wash. His reasons were partially because his roommates were always too lazy to clear their machine out for him to use, partially because he really liked your detergent (he admitted that the smell reminded him of you), and partially because he knew you didn't like when he wore his "gross street clothes" in your room.

Which was absolutely fair.

After throwing his grass-stained, dirty clothes in the wash, he flopped onto your bed and stared at the fairy lights that decorated the ceiling. You sat cross-legged next to him, looking him over and subconsciously checking for new injuries. You'd learned first aid just to help him with his stitches...and the occasional bullet removal. You didn't learn the bullet removal in first aid class. You puked the first time. You could still see the messy stitching in his shoulder where he was shot.

The mixtape he made for you played lowly out of the speaker on your desk, and you heard him humming softly to himself in thought.

"I like your room." He suddenly said, tilting his head to fully address you.

You cracked a smile at him, "Yeah I can tell. You've been hanging out here every other day for the last 2 months. You might as well move in."

A light, airy laugh bubbled out of him in waves. It sounded almost like a giggle, which made you giggle too.

"Why are we laughing?" You asked bumping him with your knee.

Dave pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he thought deeply about what he wanted to say next. The fact that he lacked a poker face made him relatively easy to read--and he's said the same about you at least once.

He tapped your knee with his knuckle, "Nothing. I--just...nothing. I promise."

You sat in comfortable silence again as the music filled the room and the gentle golden lights cast shadows along the walls.

"Has anyone ever followed you here?" You asked.

"No."

It was a stern, short answer. Absolute. Definite. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before settling on your face. It was the most serious you'd ever seen him. When he propped himself on his elbow to rest his head on his hand, he clenched his jaw.

"I'd never let that happen. I would never come here first because I'd never put you in the position to be in danger."

"I know," you admitted, carefully, "I was just wondering--"

"I'd never let anything happen to you." He stated with a shrug.

You instinctively reached out and pushed his dark curls back and away from his eyes, "I thought I was the one keeping you safe. How did we get here?"

In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you to pull you on top of him like you weighed nothing. His strength always seemed to surprise you. You barely had time to let out a shocked squeak.

"You can't keep doing that."

His eyes widened, "Did that hurt? I'm sorry--"

"No," you swatted his chest, playfully, "I'm fine. I'm just never really prepared for it."

When he was sure he didn't severely traumatize you with his displays of affection, he resumed rubbing small, lazy circles into your lower back.

"Sorry for startling you."

"You're forgiven."

He leaned forward and kissed your nose.

Dave Lizewski was an enigma. Beneath the nervousness, the dorkiness, the shyness, and general earnestness was someone who surprisingly had a lot of game. You used to imagine that he practiced his lines in the mirror before he visited you. Then you realized...no. He's just very honest when he's comfortable.

You rested your head on his chest to listen to his strong, steady heartbeat that seemed to pick up speed. When you reached up to gently touch the healing scar on his collarbone where he was nearly stabbed, he shifted under you.

"What are you thinking?" He suddenly asked.

"I get scared for you sometimes."

He said nothing, but you felt his hand pause before continuing its trek down your back.

"You're still a human being, y'know," you added, "even when I pulled you out of the dumpster--"

"Which I still thank you for, by the way."

You snorted, "You're welcome. But even when I pulled you from the dumpster, you could've died from how high you fell. And then there's the stabbing, and the shooting, and you got hit by a crowbar once..."

He seemed to consider this. Then he said, "Someone has to do it. No one else on campus--in town--has stepped up to the plate yet."

"But why does it have to be you?"

"Why not me?"

"You can't answer my question with another question, you asshat."

He laughed at your outburst and lightly patted you on the butt.

"Compromise? I pinky swear to stop after graduation."

You didn't believe him. But when he held his pinky out to you, you wrapped yours around his and he pulled you in for a quick peck on the lips.

"Fine. But if you're still running around lower manhattan in a onesie at 26, I'm telling your dad."

You curled yourself back up against his chest while he curled one of your braids around his finger, absentmindedly.

"You don't have to worry about that, by the way." He said, dropping your hair, "I just really, really like the idea of you still being in my life four or five years from now."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Dave nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, "I dunno. I just...I think you're really cool and I know I can be weird sometimes. And I know you might not see me the way I see you but-"

You leaned forward to kiss him once and then twice. And as your curled your fingers into his hair, he seemed to melt into your touch with a soft groan. He pulled away just enough to rip his glasses off and toss them in the corner before pulling you in again. He wrapped a calloused hand around the back of your neck when you nipped at his lower lip. Your fingernails slipped under his undershirt to walk along the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, just above the waistband of his boxers, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he hissed, kissing along your jaw and down your throat, "God, I love you."

Your eyes popped open. "What?"

"What?"

He trailed kisses back up to your lips like nothing happened, but you could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

"Did you... just say...you loved me?" You asked, between kisses. He pulled away and stared at you with panic in his wide blue eyes.

"Yes. No. Yes...shit did I ruin it? Do you want me to go?"

"No."

You felt a rush of an unexplained emotion flow through you as you pulled your hand out from under his shirt.

He traced the shape of your lower lip with this thumb before dropping his hand to your shoulder, "I--you don't have to say it back. It just slipped out."

You rolled off of him and crawled up the bed to rest your back against the wall. He hesitated, then slid into the space beside you.

"I lied," he mumbled, "I was gonna say it before, but you distracted me with your mouth. Again."

You sighed and reached over to hold his hand.

"How long?"

"Since last semester."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

You watched him thump his head against the wall, "Because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But, y'know, we crossed that line the first time we smanged, I think."

"Please don't say smanged."

You could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him, "We smanged."

You flicked him on the shoulder and he laughed. Some of the nervous tension melted away as he squeezed your hand.

"Like I said," he continued, "you don't have to say it back. It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

You thought for a moment about how often you worried about him and how often he watched over you. He seemed to always be around, even when he wasn't physically there. Dave was undoubtedly your best friend. You turned to look at him only to find him already watching you with the most intense gaze you'd ever seen. Felt your cheeks heat up.

"I'm not sure if it's love yet." You said, carefully, "But...I think it could be."

#aaron taylor johnson x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #atj x black!reader #dave lizewski x reader #jaelle writes

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